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Dear girl, Be Brave. Your story is not over yet....

  • Emily Wolfe
  • Jun 7, 2021
  • 8 min read

Today was chemo #10! I cannot believe I have been on chemotherapy for 14 weeks. I am still handling it as I should or better than most. My stomach still prevents me from going too far from the bathroom at any time and my headaches are still pretty constant. My taste buds are still being wacky and I lose my sense of taste right away after treatment and while at first they were coming back by Thursday or so now they aren't coming back till Sunday. Which means I only get one day of coffee tasting like coffee before it's back to treatment. I have only started to feel the neuropathy in my hands and feet (Neuropathy is tingling in your fingers and toes/feet due to the chemo harming your nerve endings. This is a very common side effect of Taxol). I do have some little baby hairs growing in a very thin patch and unfortunately I have leg hair again. Boo! I wish that part of the side effect lasted longer! My skin is still hydrated and I have been able to sit in the sun a little and try to keep up with all my tan family around me. Dr T had my gene counseling appointment moved up so we can make some decisions on surgery and start making those appointments. I am very excited to move along but also very nervous for the large decisions to come. When it came to chemo I did not have to make any choices, the doctors made those, so this time it feels a little more in my control. But with that control comes a lot of responsibility. More to come in the coming weeks!


Have you heard of Oprah's new show "The Me You Can't See''? Worth the watch. I watched the first few episodes with my sister Jennifer during her visit last week. It's been a trying couple of weeks and I have had to slap on my fake smile more days than not. What I am trying to remind myself pretty much daily is that I am human and I am going through a life changing diagnosis, it's okay to lose your shit. One foot in front of the other. After watching the show I was trying to take a mental inventory of the parts of me I hide from others. Don't we all have parts of us we hide from the world? I had a whole blog typed up and just could not get myself to hit the publish button just yet. I promised to be open and honest, I promised all of you. And I will share my journal of the last 2 weeks someday. But I am an up and down roller coaster with so many thoughts, so many emotions, and so much guilt. I have to take inventory before sharing. But in the meantime I will try to paint a picture of the chemo-crazy happening in my brain. Makes me rethink the whole chemo-brain joke…..


My mental health has been struggling more than my physical being. I have been trying to put on my brave face and as I have gotten more open about my struggles I have become more aware of how often I hold back my happiness out of fear. My cancer diagnosis hit hard. As much as I knew about this disease and I felt "comfortable" with the terms being used to describe my health, I truly had no idea how it was mentally going to change me. Because of some of the physical setbacks my treatment has caused I constantly feel like I am messing things up. I was chopping pizza toppings for dinner this past weekend and within 3 minutes I was having a hot flash from hell that came on so strong I had to sit down. As silly as it seems, I was horribly upset that Ryan had to finish my job of prepping. Cue the menopause tears. Did I mention I was going through menopause? Just another fun side effect of chemo! If chemo was a person, he/she would be the perfect frenemy.


Even before cancer, anxiety was something I happily allowed my therapist to "diagnose" me with because I felt it. I accepted that my anxious tendencies were contributing to me missing out on a lot of life around me. I was fighting with my children, making small arguments with Ryan, large ones, and obsessing about my clean house. But then I was diagnosed with cancer. Ryan and I took inventory of our life and responsibilities and my fluffle rose to the occasion and fully showed support with good vibes and prayers. I felt (and still feel) so blessed to have all this love around me. Despite all the love and support, the depression found its way in. I ignored it first, shut off the light and refused to accept its presence. The deeper it sank the more I came to accept it. Saying it out loud and confiding in my safe people have helped me to form these words, as messy as they might be. As I always tell myself, if just one person reading this finds comfort in my words it's worth it.


I have been reading a lot about living after being diagnosed with cancer. When I was first diagnosed I did a lot of online research. I wanted to have some direction on the embarrassing questions but I also wanted to remind myself that I am not the first person to be here and I won't be the last. I found SO many wonderful companies and nonprofits that provided me with tools to be productive. I skipped over some of the more "emotional" support areas because I did not think I needed them. After all, I have the world's best support system. I quickly realized even with all those people, all those prayers, and my normal "get 'er done" attitude I need more help. I need to talk to someone or read something that helps me remember the struggle is real and others are also experiencing it in their own way. I found a lot of companies that were ready to make every moment of my post cancer life comfortable (eating, exercising, working, sex, parenting, the works!!) But no two stories are alike, and the more I read the more I realized that someday, somewhere in the universe the painful things that are happening to me will happen to someone else. And maybe my bravery in sharing both my good and bad parts will be helpful. One person.


My "cancer depression" started a few weeks ago, about when I shared my post about being "stuck in chemo time". I still feel stuck there. It is hard for me to look ahead. Hard to schedule too many things in fear that I might not feel good or not be in the mood. Because there are SO many times I have to force my body out of bed and into clothes that are not my pjs and go. I am constantly worried that I am not fully enjoying or being in the moment. I am blessed to get more memories, because my cancer has a great chance of being cured. But sometimes I am so busy trying to be present in the moment that I get swept away in a sea of questioning the true existence that brought us all here. This is where I get uncomfortable and truly honest. My faith is struggling. I have never been one to question God much. I believe in His plan and in His promises. I also know those unanswered questions (what does heaven really look like?) will not be answered until my time here on earth is over. I am in no hurry for that! So why am I letting those questions take over the moments I am trying to enjoy? I know the answer is to find HOPE in His promises and believe that I am worthy of His love and eternal life. If only finding and holding on to that Hope was as effortless in this journey of my life. I am brave, but I am also lost. And maybe that's OK for right now.


I was worried that my cancer would harm my relationship with Ryan. I was worried my daughters would see past my braveness and be consumed with the negative. In some ways these fears are happening and in others our faith is keeping our eye on the prize, remission. Cancer has brought Ryan and I closer. We kiss a little longer, laugh instead of fight (or at least try to) and he has carried me into and out of doctor's appointments. We know there are harder times ahead. Not everyday has been easy for us, and while I cannot speak for him I can share how I see it. I know he worries about me and hates that he cannot sit with me while I am at chemo. He is trying to pick up where I fall short with the kids and he cooks (who is this man?!) While I love that he is doing this (please keep it up babe) the depression and little voice in my head allow this to make me feel bad. Guilt. I feel guilty that I cannot keep up my normal routine or be the mom I love to be. It eats me alive some days. When the girls get a "great idea" I normally have to scale it back and make them tiptoe instead of run, because I can walk slowly but I cannot keep up with them running. I normally end up asking someone to take over play time because I am much better at sitting and visiting. And while watching them is sometimes just as heart warming it isn't normal. I know these days are temporary but in the present the pain is overwhelming.


I have mentioned my fluffle many times. The concept was adopted from a gift I was sent the same week I was being diagnosed with cancer (before I had told anyone). A big fluffy pair of bunny slippers. The Bunny Slipper Squad. This amazing group of people were my first inspiration that laughter was going to get me through this. Born was Em-Babe's Bunnies. Let me say I am a lucky lady! I have been overly blessed by the amount of support I have received. I want this point to be very clear. I am in no way complaining. But what felt like very quickly the tidal wave that brought in dozens of cards, texts, and gifts settled and then after a few weeks quietness came. It is not that I needed anything special done, but the fact that nothing was happening and the cards came only 2 or 3 times a week was painful to me. It reminded me that I am living in "cancer time". I want to share a post from last week to help you better see how my "chemo-brain" is working when it comes to my support system.


Tuesday, May 26th

Saw Dr A for therapy today. It went well and she was proud of me for all the healthy work I have been doing. It's weird to think you can be doing well even though you’d still consider yourself depressed. I decided today to take down all the cards in my kitchen and start fresh! The cards have slowly stopped. My mom made a call to action to her friend group around my birthday so I got a million cards earlier this month but since then only a handful. Half way through chemo is the top of the hill so what a great time to refresh the cards and allow the people who are sending them now to come front and center. It’s still hard for me to understand how to move on with life. I want to see life happen and I am thankful for a future. But was I given enough time to grieve my life before cancer? It was taken away from me so quickly. Though I know there is life after a diagnosis, I am quite certain I am a changed woman. Like being a mom, no matter how old your kids get you are still their mom. No matter how many years go by, I will always have to check the cancer box. I’m not sure I am done mourning my diagnosis, so how do I move on and keep up with the times?


While I do not have the answer to my own question I am already feeling more confident by just being able to come here and tell all of you. I am strong, I am brave, but I am also fragile. I need to allow myself to be human. In time I will find the right balance for my fears. I will beat cancer and learn to live far beyond this chapter. Xoxo



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