Author: Aimee Eddy

Many people who go through serious illnesses or traumatic events in their lives find themselves falling into the dark hole of depression. Sometimes it can be a mild depression that goes away on its own, and other times it can lead to a major depression that takes medication and therapy to get through it. It’s easy to get depressed when you deal with such a serious illness as cancer. Cancer is an awful disease that has a bad reputation.

Despite the strides in treatment of cancer, many still see cancer as a death sentence. Even though advancements have been made and many live long lives after treatment, the road to recovery is not easy. Let’s face it; no illness is easy to deal with. Who would not get depressed when they have been diagnosed with an illness like breast cancer? It’s scary. Just saying the word “cancer” is frightening. The first thing that comes to mind is chemotherapy, losing hair, becoming very ill, and death. That’s what came to my mind when I heard the words, “You have breast cancer.”

I have dealt with mental illness most of my life. I have also overcome mental illness. I reached recovery a few years back and have been happy. It’s not that I’m cured from my illness, but I have it under control. I hadn’t felt deeply depressed in a long time. Then I got the phone call telling me I had breast cancer. My happy life shattered and my ability to keep above the hole failed and I fell. It was a long time since I had felt so bad inside. I felt my breath being drained from me.

The darkness filled me and the light that once shined in me was smothered. I didn’t want to face another day. I wanted to lie in bed and pretend I didn’t exist. Why me? Why did I have to have cancer? Was God punishing me? Was I going to die? Would I lose my hair? Would I get very sick? What purpose would I have to go on if it would be in misery? I automatically saw the worst side of my illness. I once again was blinded to the positive side. That old negative thinking took over.

Then I got the news I had the BRCA gene and the depression got worse. I had to face some pretty major decisions like choosing to keep my breasts and being at high risk for another cancer or having a double mastectomy. How could a person be asked to make such a decision? I became flooded with many emotions: anger, grief, sadness, denial, and hopelessness. I felt like my insides were being pulled apart.

Going to work and putting on a smile became a struggle. I tried to focus on my customers and job, but I couldn’t shake the sadness. I want to stop what I was doing and crumble into a ball and cry. I kept saying the words, “I have breast cancer,” but it felt like I was stuck in a night-mare. None of this could be real. I prayed that someone would wake me up and tell me, “You’re fine. You were just dreaming.”

I felt like I was falling to pieces, but I was too strong to allow myself to fall all the way down to the bottom of my hole. I used many of the coping techniques I learned in years of therapy for mental illness. I started trying to find the positive side to having cancer like, I caught it early and would not have to go through chemotherapy. I made boundaries for myself. I told my friends I loved them, but I had to take care of myself first and could not be as supportive as usual with their problems. I turned to my support system and talked to them when I felt I couldn’t go on. I found a support group full of women who are going through what I’m going through or have gone through it.

It’s normal to be depressed while facing a major illness. If you become so depressed that you feel you can’t shake it and want to end your life, ask for help. Give yourself a break; it’s only natural to be sad over a serious illness. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help and seek support. There are groups and therapists out there that will help you on the path you must face. You don’t have to be mentally ill to suffer with depression. Depression comes with many things like illnesses, loss, traumatic events, and so on. If you don’t take care of your depression, it can turn into an ongoing illness. You can overcome it.

I have gone through my mastectomy. At support group a woman asked me if I was still in shock. She told me after shock would come depression and grief, but for me most of the depression and grief came before surgery. Now I’m healed up, feeling stronger, and will be returning to work September 17. I am standing in the light cancer free and once again in recovery from mental illness.

When you’re going through something like surgery or a certain illness, everyone has stories of things that go wrong and advice on what to do. Some advice is good and some is not. The best advice a person can be given is to listen to the doctors and follow your heart. Many may have been through what you may be facing or are going through, but that doesn’t mean your experience will be the same as theirs. What works for them may not work for you. There are people who just randomly give advice from their own opinion, also.

Since I had my double mastectomy, I have heard a lot of advice, some good and some bad. I have decided not to get reconstruction because of possible infections and more surgeries. I’ve heard lots of advice on this matter. A co-worker said, “You can change your mind. Maybe in a year you’ll want to get it done. It’ll make you feel better.” One lady told me, “You can get special bras with padding to wear in public. When you’re at home you can go without.” Another lady commented, “You can get prosthetic ones to put in your bra. You’ll feel more like a woman.” Someone else told me, “You won’t want your husband to touch you for a while without breasts. You’re going to feel like less of woman. Eventually you’ll want to get reconstruction to make you feel better.”

Maybe some women feel they must have breasts to feel womanly and others may have to put on special bras for appearances, but that is a personal choice. Not all women feel the same. Some are perfectly happy without breasts. I met women who are not ashamed at all to go flat chested after surgery. Some have even gotten tattoos where their breasts once were.

I thought, before, surgery I would never be able to love myself without breast, but now after surgery I feel totally different. I feel like I have been free of a weight that hung from the front of me, a weight that gave me neck pains and headaches. I’m also freed from bras. No more straps sliding down, no more squishing breasts in one that’s a little too small, no more rashes and no more bras coming undone in public and sticking me in the back. I am free. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

The doctor saved some skin for possible reconstruction and despite the scars, they look like small breast. I’m happy with that. The scars are reminders of the battle I faced with strength and overcame. I’m proud to walk around without bras and to tell the world I faced cancer and I beat it. I have no need for special devices to make it look like I have something. I have nothing to hide. I’m proud of my battle wounds and I still feel like a beautiful, desirable woman.

I listen to others’ advice, but decided to follow my heart. When you’re faced not only with surgery, but major decisions, follow your heart. Where-ever your heart leads you is the direction you should go. You’ll hear from many who have been where you are or know someone who has, but in the end you have to decide what’s best for you, what will make you feel the most comfortable. Not everyone’s advice is bad. You just have to pick and choose which ones work for you.

During my surgery and recovery I used some of the advice I got from other cancer survivors. When it came to deciding on reconstruction, I listened to others’ advice and in the end followed my heart. I’m still recovering from surgery. I’m in week six and doing well. I’m happy as I am and I feel beautiful and strong. I stand tall in the light of a new beginning.

 

When I heard the words, “You have breast cancer,” it felt like a knife stabbing my soul a hundred times. It seemed like I dangled between life and death. So I thought, “How could it be true?” I had no clues anything was wrong. I felt fine, yet a horrible disease had invaded my body. A simple mammogram revealed what seemed like a red letter of doom. The dice was rolled and my fate seemed to hang by a thread.

I went from appointment to appointment in a daze. I was given pamphlets to study and books to read. My surgeon rambled on with words too big for me to grasp and too much information to sink in. My mind whirled. In the end I grasped enough of what was said to know my prognosis was good. I had a long road ahead of me, but my cancer was caught early.

One phone call dealt me another bad hand of cards. I was told I had a cancer-causing gene passed on through my family. I had decisions to make, important ones. Do I risk getting more cancer or take preventive measures? I decided not to play games with my life and opted for a double mastectomy and a hysterectomy. My simple square life suddenly spun into circles. Two surgeries lay before me. Would I lose myself or would I be strong like a board, never bending in the winds of life?

With one surgery behind me and another one to come, I am like a plum hanging from a tree branch. Each day I grow and ripen in life’s sunlight. I will nourish others souls with my new knowledge and experiences through my writings. Breast cancer was not my end, but a new beginning. I was dealt bad news, but  I rose above it.

I started this piece for a contest entry for a Pennwriters picnic. I decided to develop it into a blog post. I’m starting to get out and do more things after my mastectomy. I’m going to physical therapy and looking at each day as a chance to grow as a person.

My grandmother is 91. In her day cancer meant death and her husband died of cancer. When she found out I had cancer, she was sure I was going to die. Once I felt well enough after my surgery, I visited her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. She had so many questions to ask. I reassured her I was fine and would thrive in this world for many years. She was relieved. I felt comfort in being able to calm my grandmother’s fears. In a way, I knew how she felt. When I first heard the word cancer, I too felt like I was dealt a death sentence. Now I know it’s not.

Cancer once meant you were going to die, but with modern technology it has become an obstacle to face with courage and to overcome with defiance. Never lose hope, because there is always hope. You can live many years in recovery of cancer. Your life has only taken a new path. Follow it and see where it takes you. In the whole process of working towards recovery you may find you will only grow stronger and wiser.

With the graceful hands of a surgeon and God’s good will I am now cancer free. I stand tall ready to leap into the light of life for many years to come.

Nothing can change the person you are except you. Life’s challenges mold you into the person you are, medications help you with illnesses, and friends influence you, but only you can change your personality. Some believe once you are put on antidepressants and antipsychotic medications you will become a totally different person and you would also become a zombie, but that is untrue. The question you must discover is what do antidepressant and antipsychotic medications do?

In “How Antidepressants Work in the Brain,” Rebecca Gillaspy writes,(https://study.com/academy/lesson/how-antidepressants-work-in-the-brain.html) “Generally, antidepressants work by increasing the concentration of certain neurotransmitters within the brain, which, in turn, improves mood. While there are different types of antidepressants, each one works to manipulate one or more of the brain’s neurotransmitters.” In other words, antidepressants work with the brain to help ease the symptoms of your illness and help your mood so you can work hard at reaching recovery. Antipsychotics also work with neurotransmitters that help ease symptoms of such illnesses like bipolar.

In other words, they aren’t personality–altering drugs. They do not change the person God made you to be inside. They don’t change you from being a kind–hearted person to a mean and hateful person. I’ve been on antidepressants for many years and I am the same kind, caring, and loving person I have always been. When I was ill, I lost track of who I was and my moods made me sad and angry, but deep down, beyond my illness I was still the same person. Antidepressants helped bring me out of hiding. It brought who I was out from behind the dark cloud and helped me fight harder. They helped me climb the walls of my hole.

When I was placed in a mental health hospital, I had a roommate who talked little and walked the halls like a zombie. It frightened me. When she wasn’t walking, she was sleeping. It was like there was nothing left inside her. She seemed like an empty shell just existing. In the hospital we each met with a psychiatrist who managed our medication and decided on the proper medications. The more my roommate saw the psychiatrist the more she came alive. I soon learned she had been over–medicated. Too much medication made it impossible for her to function.

I saw my roommate later at a mental health support group outside of the hospital and she was full of life. Her psychiatrist was keeping her at a proper level of antidepressants that the symptoms of her illness could be treated and she could live a normal life. She was no longer a zombie. Instead she was working hard towards recovery.

One time I was put on an antidepressant that made me feel like I was sleep walking. I couldn’t do anything without taking a long nap. Work, social activities, housework, and so on became too exhausting to do. I went on a trip with my husband and I spent most of it sleeping. When I told my psychiatrist, he took me off that antidepressant right away. Once he started me on a new medication, I started to live again.

Antidepressants don’t change your personality, but instead part the clouds of your illness to let the true you shine. They give you that extra strength you need to climb up out of your hole to recovery. For what medication can’t take care of, therapy and hard work will take you the rest of the way to the light. If you start sleeping a lot and begin feeling like a zombie, tell someone, because you’re either on too much antidepressant or on the wrong one. You should be able to function better on medication. You may not be a hundred percent yourself, but enough of yourself that you can start working on the things that are holding you back. Remember, recovery can be reached by a combination of medication and therapy.

Antidepressants and therapy helped me climb up out of the hole of sadness and reach the light. I am still me even on medication. Nothing will ever change the person I am inside. I may have to be on antidepressants the rest of my life, but I am standing tall in the light.

How many of you women put off a mammogram? I totally get it. The test can be uncomfortable. No one wants a stranger touching her breasts and smashing them into a machine. It’s no fun, but did you know about 1 in 8 U.S. women (about 12.4%) will develop invasive breast cancer over the course of her lifetime?  (From Breastcancer.org: https://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/understand_bc/statistics). Breast cancer is the most common cancer for women, and if caught early, is the most treatable. If left untreated, it can be deadly. There is a chance you’ll never get cancer, but why play with the risk? Aren’t your health, quality of life, and future important? Aren’t you important?

When I got diagnosed with breast cancer, many of my friends and even customers I wait on told me they’ve never had a mammogram. I asked my friends “Why not?” One said she has enough health problems to have to worry about, another one stated she doesn’t want to know, and another told me she doesn’t have the time. I was stunned. I figured everyone automatically got the test done once she turns 40. I got mine done without hesitation once I turned of age. My mom told me how uncomfortable it would be and she was right. But I’m glad I continued to get my mammograms, because that’s how my cancer was detected.

I performed self-exams before getting my yearly tests, but never felt anything. Even after I was diagnosed, I felt my breast to see if somehow I missed the mass, but I still felt nothing. When I met with the surgeon, he performed an exam and told me he couldn’t feel it because the mass was hidden under tissue and fat. The only way the cancer could be found was by a mammogram.

I started thinking, what would have happened if I was one of those people who never got a mammogram? How badly would my cancer have spread? The type of cancer I had was spread by hormones like estrogen. I’m only 44. Not menopausal yet. I’m still young. If I didn’t get that uncomfortable, test my hormones would have spread it throughout my body and could have led to an early death, but since I got a mammogram, the cancer was caught in the early stages. I don’t have to go through chemotherapy or radiation. Far as I’m concerned that awful test saved my life.

Yes, I choose to get a bilateral mastectomy because I have the BRCA 2 gene, but that was a decision I made to prevent myself from getting any more cancers. The BRCA gene mutation causes breast, ovarian, and skin cancer. I wanted this to be my last struggle with breast cancer. I want to protect myself from getting a more serious cancer. I want to stand at my husband’s side for many years and I want to watch my nieces and nephews and great nieces grow up.

If you have a chance to try and protect yourself from getting a disease that could lead you to a miserable death, wouldn’t you take it? Getting a yearly mammogram is one of the things you can do to keep you from dying miserably. I’ve talked to people who had stage 3 and 4 breast cancer and had it treated and are living happily cancer free. Some of them found a mass on their own and many had that yearly mammogram. Don’t play with your health; get that uncomfortable test done. Chances are you may never get cancer, but remember 1 in 8 do get cancer. What if you’re the 1? Wouldn’t you want to catch it early and live a happy life after treatment?

I think knowing is better than not knowing what’s going on in your body. There is always time to take care of yourself for you and your family. If you already have health problems, wouldn’t you also want to catch this one before it ends up being your deadliest health problem? I myself have struggled with health problems. Just last year I had a detached tendon repaired in my ankle. In the past six years I’ve had a surgery about every two years: first gallbladder, then plantar fasciitis, and then detached tendon. I was hoping not to have to have another surgery for a long time, but things happen. I’m just happy to be alive and in recovery.

Go on, get that mammogram! Do it for yourself. The best person to take care of you is you. So take care of yourself by picking up the phone and making that appointment.

Because I got my mammogram I found my cancer early, I’m recovering from surgery and am now cancer free. I’m standing in the light of life shouting out, “I am a survivor!”

 

Dealing with cancer takes a toll on your mental health. You go through stages of depression, grief, and anger. Your emotions run wild. Then if you go through a bilateral mastectomy, you have to decide on reconstruction or not. Deciding on reconstruction comes down to learning to love yourself all over again and accepting yourself as you are or finding self-love in having new breasts. It all comes down to what makes you feel good about yourself and how you feel inside. Some women are comfortable without breasts and some feel they have to have breasts. It’s a personal choice that can’t be taken lightly.

Before my surgery, the surgeon said they could probably do reconstruction at the same time as my mastectomy. I was happy. This meant I would still wake up with breasts. I wouldn’t wake up flat-chested. I felt that having breasts defined me as a woman and made me sexier to my husband. I couldn’t even imagine not having them. When I met with the plastic surgeon, he burst my bubble. He told me because of the size of my breasts he couldn’t do reconstruction for three to four months after my surgery. My heart broke and tears threatened to spill.

This meant I’d wake up flat-chested. I’d have to go for a long time with nothing. This seemed like the end of the world to me. I went into a depression. I wouldn’t be a woman without breasts, people would look at me funny, my husband wouldn’t think I was sexy anymore, and I wouldn’t be able to look at myself the same way again. How could I love myself if I were missing part of what made me a woman? I cried in my husband’s arms and I got mad at God for allowing this to happen to me. None of this seemed fair. I had already been through enough in my life and now I was going through more. I was flooded with so many emotions.

Then I had my surgery. At first I couldn’t even look at myself. I cried and asked my husband if I was ugly.

He said, “No matter what, you look beautiful to me.”

 

 

Slowly I start peeking at my bandaged chest. Then once the bandages were off, I started standing in front of the mirror. I carefully rubbed my hands over the area where my breasts were and asked myself, “Can I love myself as I am or do I need to have breasts?” Then I heard Lou’s voice in my head, “You’re beautiful as you are.” In the days to follow I would stand in front of the mirror saying, “I am beautiful as I am.”

My friend told me I should make a list of the positives and negatives of having breast reconstruction and not having it. The positive of not having it outweighed the positives of having it. The skin left over from my breasts kind of looks like small breasts, I feel comfortable without having to wear a bra, the headaches and neck pain I had before surgery are gone, no heat rashes, no bouncing while walking, and so on. Most importantly I’m still me just with a flatter chest. I’m still woman and as beautiful as ever. I am in week three of my recovery and I am pretty confident I can love myself without reconstruction.

I’m still getting used to the loss of my breasts, but I am finding acceptance and a new love for myself. The greatest part is I am cancer free. I went to a cancer support group and heard from people who had reconstruction and others who have not. I have pretty much decided I can love myself as I am. I am emotionally stronger and I am feeling more confident in myself as a woman without breasts. I am a beautiful, strong woman reaching for the light of recovery from cancer.

Every part of our bodies is special, even though some parts can be a pain, like breasts. Breasts bounce when you run, sometimes gives you heat rashes, and sometimes they get in the way. Many of us who are well-endowed claim we’d love to get rid of them. Oh, how nice it would be not to bother with them anymore! Not to have them knock your cereal bowl over or bounce like basketballs when you rush to the bus stop. It would be so nice not to have those sore itchy rashes under them. I even had the same thoughts until I had to actually decide to lose them or keep them due to cancer and a cancer-causing gene called the BRCA gene.

I heard all the comments before I made my choice: “They are just extra fat, it’s no big deal,” “You don’t need them they are just for men to play with,” “You’re lucky, I’d love to go braless,” “I bet you’ll feel ten pounds lighter” and “It’s no big deal to lose them; they just get in the way.” It’s easy to say these things when you’re not faced with actually losing them. I at times also wished I had no breasts, but once I had to decide to lose this part of my womanhood, they no longer seemed like a nuance.

Many things went through my mind while I tried to decide what to do. How will I look? Will I still be attractive to my husband? Will I lose some of what makes me a woman? Will people stare at me? Will I like myself? Will I still think I’m pretty? Would I still be able to look at myself in the mirror? I went over the questions in my head, and in the end I knew having a bilateral mastectomy was the best and safest answer.

Before the surgery I went through crying periods. At times I asked my husband, “Have I made the right decision?” Suddenly these big annoying things meant the world to me. I was going to lose a part of my body and a part that made me a woman. I couldn’t help but feel remorse. The tears came and my heart shattered. I had these breasts since my teen years and suddenly they were going to be gone.

I had the mastectomy on July 17. Once I was taken to my room after surgery, my mom and husband stood at my bedside and all I could ask was, “How do I look with nothing?” They both said I looked fine. The nurses asked if I looked at my bandaged chest and I said, “No, I can’t.” I just could not look at where my breasts once were. It was too hard. I could tell by my gown that it was flatter there, but I just couldn’t look beyond that. Even when I got dressed to go home, I couldn’t look.

It wasn’t until I was home a night or so that I looked at the stitched and bandaged chest where I once had breasts.

Tears filled my eyes, grief shook my body, and I looked into my husband’s eyes, “I’m ugly.”

My husband wiped my tears away and said, “No, you’re not. You’re still beautiful as ever.”

It’s now been a week and a half since my surgery. I’ve gone through periods of grief and I’m slowly finding acceptance. I must decide whether or not I want to get reconstruction, but I’m saving that until I’m healed. Right now the most important thing to me is recovery and dealing with the stages of loss. Losing my breasts is no joke. It’s hard to handle, but each day I am growing stronger. I’m learning to accept myself as I am. This is a big process. I had to learn to love myself while reaching for recovery from mental illness, and now I have to learn to love myself without breasts.

A friend told me the body is a shell; the true beauty lies within. She’s right. We can’t take our bodies to heaven, but our beautiful souls go on for eternity. So love yourself inside first then outside. No matter what flaw your body has or what you have lost, you are beautiful. Beauty is all around you and most importantly deep within you. Grieve your loss and learn to accept yourself as you are.

I’m still on the road to recovery from my surgery. I go in and out of phases of grief, but each day it’s getting easier. I’m listing the positives to my loss and looking at each day with a new light. The best part is I’m now cancer free. In time I will stand in the light of recovery from cancer.

 

 

 

I underwent a bilateral masectomy on Tuesday. I am recovering. There will not be a blog post until i feel up to it. Hopefully it won’t be too long. I’m sore and drained.

Life is hard. Things we don’t plan for happen to us. Illness strikes us unexpectedly. When things happen, we can choose to fight or sit down and have a pity party. Some decide to wallow in self-pity and they want everyone else to feel sorry for them. They tell the world about how awful things are for them and how there is no help. This only leads to an endless road of hopelessness. Others decide to fight. They stand up to their illness and face it head on. With mental illness and cancer, if you want to reach recovery, you must decide to stand tall and fight.

I know a woman who is suffering from mental illness. She tells everyone there is no help for her. She goes to her friends and talks on and on about how awful her life is. She blames her husband for not understanding and changes psychiatrist often when they won’t do what she tells them to do. She doesn’t try anything the psychiatrist suggests, and when medication doesn’t work right away, she stops taking it. Instead of fighting her illness, she has chosen to feel sorry for herself and she wants everyone else to do the same. The only problem is she’ll never reach recovery because she won’t fight for it. The only thing I can do for her is pray she’ll change her ways and decide to fight to reach the light.

A coworker comes up with imaginary illnesses and sees the negative side to everything. If you ask her how she’s doing, she’ll list all her problems and want you to pray for her. Her doctor told her she needed to talk to a therapist, but the therapist suggested something she didn’t like, so she quit. When she is invited to hang out with others at work she has excuses. If I call her on the phone to tell her about something that happened to me, the conversation turns into all about her problems. She’s a single woman who sits alone at home and feels sorry for herself. She’ll never change unless she is willing to work hard and find a new way of thinking. I pray in time she’ll decide to go back to therapy and stick to it. She can live a happy life if she is willing to commit herself to the battle to find joy in life.

When I had mental illness, I could have sat down and had a pity party, but once I realized what my illness was, I decided to fight it. It took time and a lot of work, but I did reach recovery. Now I have cancer. When I found out I had it, my husband told me not to go to work the next day. I wanted to go to work. Why? Because I wasn’t willing to sit around home crying and feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to keep busy and be around people. I wanted to push forward.

It would be easy to wallow in self-pity. I mean, haven’t I been through enough? Last year I had ankle surgery and was in the emergency room four times. I’ve fought mental illness, risen above abuse, and worked around a learning disability. Isn’t that more than enough for one person to face? Now I have to face cancer. It would be so easy to lie in bed and give up.

I could have a pity party, but I’m not like that. I’m a fighter. I will beat cancer no matter what it takes. I’ve been running from one appointment to the next. My head has been over- loaded with so much information, I feel like shutting down and hiding. Instead I push forward. I practice the coping techniques I learned while I was recovering from mental illness. I go to work each day, I put a smile on, and I even joke about my up and coming surgery with friends, saying while they give me new breast, can they take a few inches off the middle and off my bottom?

I’ve had to make some difficult decisions, I have a scary disease and I have a long road ahead of me, but I will not feel sorry for myself. Instead I will stand up and fight. I even told my friends I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. If you love me, you’ll support me in my fight.

A coworker told me, “Stop having a pity party.”

I answered, “I don’t have pity parties. I fight.”

I can’t say at times I don’t feel sorry for myself. Who wouldn’t, but I don’t let myself linger in it. Instead I focus on beating cancer and staying positive. I push forward and I prepare for what is to come. I celebrate the small things like I will not have to have chemotherapy.

If you have mental illness, cancer, or some other illness allow yourself to have a small pity party, but then push forward. Don’t give up on yourself. Fight with all that’s in you; fight to get better, fight for yourself, and fight for a new beginning. Pity parties don’t get you anywhere.

I am facing a major surgery to have my breast removed and reconstructed, but I will stand tall. Because I don’t sit in self-pity, instead I fight. In time I will be dancing in the light of recovery from cancer.

 

Staying in the light of recovery can be very hard, especially when the unexpected happens. Life is full of surprises, and no matter how hard you try to prepare, something can strike you out of the blue. Some things you just can’t prepare for, and when they happen, you must rely on your own strength to stay in the light. When this happens, you learn how strong you are and you turn to all the coping techniques you learned while you were ill. Even though you are in recovery, at times you must still fight to stay above the hole. This is when you must decide if you’re a fighter or a quitter.

 

Ever since I got the diagnosis of breast cancer, I have been fighting depression. Everything seems unreal. I feel fine, yet I have cancer. How could I have such an awful illness and feel healthy? This has to be a nightmare. I want to go to sleep and wake up cancer free, but unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. I’ve even questioned God. Why would he give me such an awful disease? Did I do something to deserve it? Am I being punished?

I try to keep busy. I’ve been cleaning up around the house, and on my day off when I don’t have appointments, I go to lunch with a friend, take our dog for a walk, and do laundry. There are moments when I’m okay with things and other moments when I just start crying. My thoughts get the best of me. I start thinking about my illness and the rough road that lies ahead of me. I begin worrying about how we’ll pay our bills while I’m off work. I start to feel sorry for myself.

It’s just not fair. I fought hard to overcome mental illness and now I am suddenly struggling with a physical illness. I worked hard to overcome depression and once again I’m fighting with it. Haven’t I been through enough in my life? Why me? Why do I have to go through this? I’m tired of having problems.

Just last year I had a detached tendon repaired in my ankle, two years before that I had a procedure done for plantar fasciitis, and two years before that I had my gall bladder out. I have been to physical therapy so often they know me by name. Now I’m facing an even bigger surgery. It just doesn’t seem right.

I’ll be off work for 6 to 8 weeks. It takes both Lou and my check to pay our bills. How will we survive on one income? Disability at work doesn’t pay much. Will we lose our home? Will our gas and electricity be turned off? How will we buy groceries? The worries go on and on.

Then I start thinking I am not strong enough to handle this. I can’t do this. I can’t go through another surgery. I’m sick of fighting. I just want to go back in time to when I was cancer free. I want someone to shake me and wake me up and say it was all a bad dream. I can’t do this. I’m not strong. I’m weak. The tears begin to pour from my eyes. Then I run to Lou and he holds me while I cry. He reassures me I am strong and I can and will fight this. He talks to me until I stop crying. He even gets me laughing.

This is when I turn to my coping techniques and support system. I can’t let a disease like cancer push me back to the bottom of the hole again. I’m too strong for that, right? I can’t give up.

Lou keeps saying to me. “As long as I’ve known you, you have never been a quitter. You are a fighter. This time you’re not fighting alone. I’m here fighting with you.”

He’s right. There are plenty of times I could have quit, like when my teachers and classmates at school said I was too stupid to pass school on my own or ever be able to work a job. I fought to prove them wrong. It wasn’t an easy battle, but I didn’t give up and I proved them all wrong. So why would I give up now? Why would I allow depression to win again? Why would I let cancer ruin my life?

If you’re faced with a challenge, don’t be a quitter; be a fighter. Fight for yourself, fight to stay above the hole, fight for happiness, and fight with all that’s within you. Times will get hard and your strength will be tested, but don’t give up. You might feel like there is nothing left within you to face the battle before you, but turn to God. Trust in him. He’ll give you the extra strength you need.

Since I found out I have cancer, I have been praying a lot. I have been turning to friends and family for support, I have been practicing coping techniques and fighting. I will not quit. I will fight cancer and my depression. Because I am not a quitter, I’ll bathe in the light of recovery from both mental illness and cancer.