Tears will come even if you are not generally a tearful or emotional person. You won’t plan it. They may come when you least expect it, but they will come, lots of them, and possibly often.
I cried just looking at my food and not having the energy to lift my fork.
I cried when walking the eight paces, from the kitchen to my recycling bin, seemed overwhelming.
I cried when I ‘crashed’ every time I came off steroids.
I cried when at 9.30 a.m. (that’s morning!!) I knew my day was over (energy-wise) and yet it hadn’t even begun.
I cried in the shower, my tears falling in harmony with the water, just because I’d made it to the end of another day.
I cried when everything seemed too much for me to handle.
I cried when I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself.
I cried when I watched my daughter coming out of school chatting to friends. I cried tears of begging that I would be around to share more of her growing up and be the one to hold her hand and mother her into adulthood.
I cried when my wig felt hot and tight.
I cried when even with pain relief I couldn’t handle the pain.
I cried when the journey seemed endless at times.
I cried with joy when people ‘got it’ and knew how to handle me and help me in the way I needed.
I cried from relief when I fell into bed.
I cried when I missed sharing important events in my son’s life.
I cried when my life felt like the life of a very old person.
I cried when I tried to keep up and failed miserably.
I cried silently in my heart many times and no tears fell at all.
I cried when my blood test results didn’t portray my mammoth effort at wellness.
I cried when getting a simple meal on the table for my family felt like running two marathons.
A lot of the time I had no idea why I was crying, I just was.
Tears came. They didn’t always last long but I let them come for as long as they needed to. It brought me relief just to let go. It felt human. I knew that when I cried I was in my heart, as opposed to my head, and this was the perfect place to start healing.
Tears are the perfect place for you to start healing.
Dealing with the dreaded diagnosis and planning your prognosis.
Ovarian cancer is not silent, there are signs and symptoms.
Don’t own cancer by saying “I have cancer” or “My cancer.”
Will you go the conventional or the alternative route?
There’s a difference between a good doctor and a great doctor.
The choices, challenges and changes of chemotherapy treatment.
Getting used to bald being beautiful and wearing a wig.
Life is like a movie and, temporarily, you may not be in it.
If you don’t have a wellness programme, you should create one.
Do you feel you fit the cancer profile?
On a cancer journey, you die to your old life and are born again.
Your recovery is individual, it won’t fit a schedule.
There are things family and friends should know.
Try to keep in touch with ‘Champs’, no matter what.
You’ll be showered with gifts from the Universe and friends.
You’ll be grateful for chemo pals, ‘sisters’ and carers.
It hurts when someone doesn’t know how to be there for you.
The pain of losing a friend to cancer.
Strategies for dealing with depression.
You’ll be wrapped in light, grace and good energy.
In time, you may feel grateful for the cancer journey.
Is cancer a gift?
About the Author
Dee Shemma is an ovarian cancer survivor. Prior to her cancer journey she was an English teacher and writer. Through the gift of cancer she has been reborn. Dee can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org