Normal

Is it normal? Normal takes on a whole different meaning with a cancer diagnosis. Everything is changed to: Is this normal for cancer? Is this normal for chemotherapy treatment? Is this normal for post surgical? Is this normal for radiation? Most of the time, the answer is: yes it’s normal, but here we can try xyz drug or treatment to lessen or improve that. Normal becomes a world of adaptation. Normal becomes a world of acceptance.

The last week or two normal has been pretty good for me. I’ve really regained my energy due to taking my vitamins, drinking enough water, eating healthy and being farther out from surgery. I’m able to do the walk Mitch and I always used to take before cancer with the dogs. I don’t need a nap every day. I’ve found coping mechanisms to deal with leftover brain fog from chemo. I schedule out my days for the whole week with goals every day, yet still give myself grace to change the plans if I over do it and need extra rest.

I’ve been able to do fun things like meet up with a group of women from all over Nebraska who have had inflammatory breast cancer. It was great to connect with a group of women who understand and have lived the seriousness of this aggressive disease.

I was able to cook my grandma Czech goulash and homemade bread dumplings for her birthday, and then present them to her at a lunch with her and Mitch to celebrate.

I was able to go to a pumpkin patch with my sister and her children. We jumped. We ran all over the place. We literally flew on a zipline. And I was able to keep up.

And yet, as cancer does, another new normal will begin tomorrow. I start six weeks of radiation, 36 doses total. Every day, Monday through Friday, I will go and get the zap-zap (as one of my sisters says). I have no way of knowing what this new normal will be. Some have warned of tiredness and a light sunburn effect to the skin. That’s at best. At worst, I may have larger skin issues and open sores. I could develop issues swallowing and have changes in taste; this is because they will radiate a large area that may hit my esophagus. My chances of lymphedema are increased yet again.

Time will tell what this new normal will be. And right as I get used to this current normal, I’ll begin yet another new normal. A post-active treatment normal. A hopefully longer-term normal that will present yet its own set of trials. A normal where I have hair on my head and full range of motion. A normal where it won’t be evident to the naked eye that I spent 2021 going through cancer treatment. A normal with internalized battles and dealing with the aftermath of cancer, both mentally and physically. Like my upcoming radiation, that’s a normal I have no way of knowing what it will fully look like until it’s here. I’ll do my best to prepare, but for now I’ll just face today and it’s normal. I’ll do my best to enjoy it, appreciate it, accept it and give myself grace when it’s all just too much.