Detritus


I realized the other day that it’s time to clear out some of the detritus from cancer treatment. I still had Magic Swizzle under my bathroom sink, hats and beanies hanging in my closet, and a bin overflowing with head scarves. I don’t need this constant reminder, not when I’m trying to move past it.

But that prompted a question that turned into a post in Thrivers, my local breast cancer group: “I finished chemo at the end of February, yet my scarves and hats are still taking up space. Part of me wants to donate to women who could use them, but the other part of me feels like I should box them up and save them in case… you know. What have you done?”

Naturally, I’ve gotten a range of responses, but everyone understood the feeling. Some kept all of theirs, saying it makes them feel safe somehow and like they’re not jinxing themselves. Others gave them all away, as a way to put everything behind them.

I think what I’m going to do is donate the ones I didn’t really wear or didn’t really like, and keep the rest. We found a storage bin in the basement that will protect them and put them out of sight.

Someone recently shared something she saw online that’s super accurate:

“I think the hardest part of cancer treatment is the end – when everyone assumes you’re ‘cured’ and you no longer need their help or support. You’re in your weakest, most devastated state, plus you no longer have a mission you had when you began this journey: to kill the cancer. The cancer is toast, but so are you, and now like a soldier at the end of war, you need help putting yourself back together, only everyone has gone home since they assume the war has been won.” – Author unknown


10 responses to “Detritus”

  1. dear lisa…warrior woman ~
    yes. i…and i’m sure others who are reading your blog know how it feels when the so-called worst is over but you’re still in recovery, be it physical or emotional….and everyone is suddenly gone…or just not as present as before.
    on the flip side, it’s like when someone spends weeks, months, getting ready for their marriage ceremony, their wedding…then there’s the party, the honeymoon…and you come back and the celebrating has ended and reality has begun. there’s that big almost letdown. the readjustment begins but everyone thinks you’re fine while you’re still trying to figure out the difference in your feelings.
    it’s like after christmas when all the lights and trees come down. there’s an emptiness. literally, the lights have gone out.
    i’m and i’m sure many others that are reading your blog are gonna hang in there with you, brave warrior woman!!!
    yes, now you’re putting yourself back together…but its a “new normal.” you’ve changed, your view of things may have changed. you think a new direction may be in order. whatever. it’s all good.
    some closest to you may see you as more fragile, more vulnerable…while also seeing your strength, your courage.
    you came thru it. the fight seems over. there is that empty space now where you held it together. now you will fill it with something else: LIFE.
    tell that dark cloud, that shadow to go away and leave you alone. try not to be haunted. don’t look back. look forward.
    yes, its worrisome. will it come back. that awful it. we all hope it will not.
    continue to share your stream of consciousness….with us. are you crying cause it feels like the battle is over…but you fear a new one? its ok. yes, its been a struggle. as i told someone recently: humans change/evolve, bit-by-little-bit every day. your change may have been bigger, longer, scarier…even death defying. people are constantly reshaped, usually in the smallest of ways…but then there are those times…like when cancer strikes. …. and the whole axis of your life seems to be thrown off kilter.
    to quote john lennon: “life is what happens when you’re making other plans.”
    LIVE LONG & PROSPER, BRAVE ONE! you shall not be alone or a lone.

  2. dear lisa: i should have told you before. i literally cried reading your detritus post. it was so touching, so raw. you are so brave to share such deep feelings; to be so open with us. brave. well done. relief but with an empty space. give yourself a big, big hug.

  3. I’ve heard it said from others, that the hardest part about cancer treatment is the end. The “what do I do now?”part. When every fiber of your being has been focused on fighting cancer and now, suddenly, you’re done? That part must be kinda scary. Just “moving on” as though it never happened? Impossible. When you grieve a loss, it never goes away. I imagine that fighting a cancer diagnosis would feel similar. Even when it’s “over” it’s not really over, is it? You are changed forever, and even in remission, it’s probably always in the back of your head so pretty hard to just “move on”. Your cheering section will always be here for you, even if you don’t need the daily prayers and cheers you once did. Keep sharing your thoughts and even your fears. xo Carole

  4. Dear Lisa,

    This is one honest, sincere and thoughtful post. Until one reads about your “finish line” experiences, it’s impossible to imagine all of these ongoing dilemmas. Everything you stated is so utterly believable and once more thank you for helping most of us understand the quandaries you are working through. In some ways it feels almost like a never ending story and perhaps that is just a natural end result of all you have been through.

    One very positive aspect of this entire experience is the shear comfort and joy you were able to feel when surrounded by your incredible spouse, children, parents, extended family and friends who were there for you to draw strength and love from. This dedicated group circling you quietly has fortified and strengthened you to be the fearless soul you are and help inspire the courage you exemplified throughout this past year. How absolutely blessed you are Lisa and I am sure you’re totally deserving of it all.

    Sincerely,

    Heather

  5. I bet everyday it’s work to deal w the trauma you experienced during that dreadful year. All the best to you 🙏🏼

  6. Each person has to deal with this in their own way. To some, getting rid of everything is like a spring rain that cleans the last of the winter ugliness. To others, keeping things is a comforting way to remember how far you have come. Your heart will tell you what is the right path for you. Thank you, again, for sharing your journey as only you can!!!!

  7. A powerful message beautifully put Lisa. Thank you for sharing so vividly what you are feeling in this moment, the “end of cancer” phase of this journey, and thank you especially for sharing what you need in this moment. I am and will continue to be with you in spirit, and with you via this amazing blog and, I am so looking forward to sharing a long deeply connected hug when we see each other later this week. 💕

Leave a Reply