Chemotherapy: 100th Round

After the initial shock of my cancer diagnosis, I had no comprehension that I would have to undergo chemotherapy, nor did I understand the first thing about it. Of course I had a baseline grasp as to what it was. I knew that my Granddad went through it for three months; from the day he was diagnosed to the day that he passed away. I knew he was essentially getting poisoned, and that poison did not save his life. I was also aware of Hollywood’s version of chemo and how they manage to fit it into a square box with a pretty ribbon, unassuming of the various types of treatment within the umbrella of chemotherapy drugs. However, despite knowing those few, minute things that happens to be surrounded by lurking shadows of all things negative, I am now able to say that I am well versed as to what the depths of this poison means, today marking my 100th round of chemo.

Over the progression of my disease, I have had more than one type of chemotherapy in an attempt to get rid of the bastards. Some worse than others, but there was absolutely nothing worse than the beginning of my cancer career. To begin with, I was injected with one of the most lethal of the colon cancer chemotherapy varieties, and often times my platelets would be so low that I would have to have a shot, feeling as though every bone in my body was shattering to peices. There was also the neuropathy, which disabled the nerves in my hands and feet, disallowing me to walk or even write for that matter. Lets not forget to mention the initial distress of changes to my appearance, as a vain twenty-seven year old.  This all in addition to all of the other side affects synonymous with chemotherapy.  Yet, worst of it all was the mental toll, twisting my every thought down a spiraling rabbit hole; the fear, the anger, the resentment, and mourning the loss of my life, as I once knew it.

Altogether, I can reliably say that chemo is not for the faint of the heart. As I grieved for my good health firstly, I gradually began to put my best energies into a healthy frame of mind. I began looking at chemotherapy treatments as if it were my job, a new career in which I was going to have to show up and commit to as though my life depended on it…literally. In switching my approach to what I only knew as being undesirable, it kept my mental endurance alive, teaching me things about myself that I had never recognized before. Chemotherapy is the job, and the paycheck is the time I am granted to still be here with my family and friends.

Nevertheless I have my days of gloom, just last month feeling like I failed in 2017, accomplishing next to nothing.  It is also not lost on me that chemotherapy is not necessarily a cure, and I value the bravery and the grace of people who have undergone it, while it sadly no longer continues to keep the cancer manageable.  Then there are milestones like today, and I am reminded that I repeatedly show up for work, with a smile on my face, looking cancer straight in eye and laboring until the work is done.

Nobody knows what life has in store, and life is short, that is for sure.   With that, I am going to continue my stride and appreciate the brilliant minds and methods that is keeping me here today, tomorrow and hopefully the next.

Cheers to you, 100!!!

PS- totally and shamelessly bought myself these roses in celebration.

Love,

Britt x

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Inspire(d).

People near and far have described me as “inspiring”. It is true. An actual FACT, simply because just about everyone I have come in contact with has shared their sentiments. By now I’m sure I’m sounding big headed, but stick with me.

Although a lovely compliment — inspiring, inspirational, inspiration and inspired are all a part of the same vernacular. One with which bears a great meaning and with that comes grave liability. A liability to disappoint or not live up to your own standard of inspiration. Perhaps even those, like me, who can’t fully understand how that definition could be synonymous with myself.

In my case, I’m living with Stage IV colon cancer. I share my struggles and write my truth through this journey. But on a normal day, I wake up and smoke copious amounts of medicinal marijuana and actually define the meaning of “Netflix and Chill”. Then, every other week, on what has now become a normal day, I go to the clinic for chemotherapy. My point being that, I’m doing exactly as you would do in this situation or any life roadblock for that matter.

In order to aspire and to inspire, you have to recognize the inspiration that we all have within our souls. I’m talking about all of the single mothers and the dads who are moms too —- working one, sometimes two jobs to ensure their child has endless opportunities. Pupils who continue their education in spite of all the hard work it takes to get there; not to mention finishing something that you started. The LGBTQ community who takes great pride in who they are, which is exactly how it should be. Or the obvious, just being Ellen DeGeneresqué.

For me it’s all of that and more. Inspiration is my husband for being brave enough to have fought on the front lines, while now going to school, working and truthfully… taking care of my cancer caboose (pun intended). Inspiring is my gorgeous, Nan who has never stopped looking out for me — retiring just to keep me company everyday. Inspired by the family I’ve been blessed with, who nourishes me with their strength and for never, ever letting doubt seep into my veins. A special friend who always remembers to wish me luck on a chemo day. To every stranger that’s expressed true human compassion by thinking outside of their own lives and onto others. All of which is my inspiration and where I draw from.

Everyone’s definition is different, and still it leads back to the fact that the world is waiting for you, now matter how big or small you may think that you are, everyone is capable of inspiring, even if you may never know that you are doing so.

In an especially dark world, it’s important that we share inspiration with one another, to bridge divides and conquer life together, one day at a time.

Now to marry the invitation of being described as ‘inspiring” —- it’s a badge of honor of which I will gladly wear.  Thank you.

Happy hearts and thoughts to all.

Love,

Britt x

1-800-273-8255: The Sun Will Rise Again

As I lay in the dark last night, my mind wondered to everything I’ve gone through in the last couple of years, as it sometimes does. In the beginning of this path, I had no idea what was in front of me and the mental toll it would take. It’s hard to imagine that I ever contemplated taking my own life, especially when I had worked so very hard to remain in existence.

Not long after I was discharged from the hospital in June, I was sitting solo on my balcony watching the sunset. In that moment, it meant something more than usual. In awe of how the one thing we can count on is that the sun rising and setting each day, while the world spins madly on. As the suns rays were coming to a close, I could feel the colors of the evening sky running deep through me. What was left of daylight beamed through my fractured body and scars. Suddenly my head felt like it was above the cotton candy skies, and I forgave myself for ever contemplating taking my own life.

Depression is cancer itself, once it creeps in, it doesn’t feel like the sun will ever rise or fall again. I felt so alone, despite all of the loving support I had surrounding me. The days that I was unable to walk because my neuropathy was electric, or feeling so isolated from the rest of the world that I shut myself out from everything and everyone. During that time I tried as best as I could to write and share what I was enduring, particularly on the mental side of things. I’ve never revisited any of those blog posts, I can’t. Life is easy to be scared of, especially when your world can be as dark as the nights sky.

Thinking back to walking for the first time after each of my surgeries, or how terrible the pain of it all was, seemed like it was never ending. It felt like I’d never heal, but months passed and seasons changed and every time I had a huge roadblock in front of me, I somehow found inner strength to keep moving forward. It would have been so easy to give up by now. But I didn’t.

The way you approach life is a choice. You may be facing something tiring at the moment, or feeling cynical. You may want to give up, wondering what this life is all about. No one has the manuscript, we are all just winging it, hoping for another sunrise tomorrow.

Life, one day it’s here and then it’s gone. My life, your life and anyone out there contemplating suicide is worth living; our lives are worth it. There is no replica, this is it. You don’t have to be swallowed by the sea of sadness and depression. Know in your heart that someone out there cares and loves you. You are never alone.

If I was able to swim my way back to shore to witness that beautiful sunset, so can you. At sunrise you have a new day, an opportunity to entice your soul into living your best life despite your circumstances. Getting up each morning is your greatest gift and continuing to live when you want to die is ultimate bravery.

If you or someone you know suffers from depression, don’t give up on them. I was so fortunate that no one gave up on me. If you have contemplated harming yourself, please, please don’t give up. Take time to watch the sun rise and set, for it’s proof that no matter how dark your world is, we can experience beauty at the beginning and end to every day.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 — available 24/7.

You are loved and worthy of your life.

PS- Please share and pass this message along.  If it can help just one person, we are making a difference!

Love,

Britt x

Painted Lady:

Words cannot express how incredibly honored and surprised I am to have artist and author, Anthony Oldham paint this insanely beautiful oil painting of me.  I have never had someone paint a picture of me, let alone something so lovely! Thank you, Anthony!

BRAVO!

Love,

Britt x

My Michele, Ma Belle: Alfresco We Shall

1933942_1180777715018_4109152_nEvery time I think of my tender hearted and dear friend, Michele, The Beatles song enters my quirky brain, Michele, ma belle, these are words that go together well, my Michele.  In fact I often associate people with songs, or maybe the other way around, but either way she is my spirit sister.  We met years ago at American Express when we were both working corporate America.  Not that there is anything wrong in that.  We are both just done with that phase of our life now.  She’s blessed with two beautiful boys and has blessed me with a Godson that I often gush about.

After going to bed yesterday feeling kind of crummy, my Michele text me and as shown below, this is exactly why I love her. Tonight we are going to have a candle lit dinner à la rooftop, makeup free, laughing above the beautiful desert and cityscape of Downtown Phoenix.  We may even cry a tad because that’s what we do and then we’ll laugh a little more.  But all in all, thank you, my Michele.  You don’t know how much you impact my world.

Here’s our loony conversation, telling her to show the lady at the Vietnamese restaurant my picture because she knows me and will therefore automatically know what we want.  Brilliant if I do say so myself.  We’re like Miranda in Sex & the City, except with Pho. Always a laugh, with my Michele.

PS- Don’t bitch at me bc I know The Beatles version of My Michelle is with two ll’s but MY Michle is only one. So there.

Bon appétit and cheers,

Britt x

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