Dating chronicles: Two years is a very long time

*Update: This post was written in 2011. I can honestly say that time does heal and things can change. Love after cancer is possible.*

I have been really emotional this week. Thinking about a lot of things and a lot of people. I have talked to so many survivors who are dealing with recurrences of their cancer. It scares me to death. If I'm not careful this thing is going to kill me. How do you move beyond that? Ugh... its so much. And so much to handle alone.

Two years ago, the relationship I had when I was diagnosed with cancer ended. Two years ago, my heart broke (yet again) in a million pieces and I had to deal with the aftermath. In the time since that breakup, I have been angry, nonchalant, happy, sad, pissed-off and a million other shades of hurt over that man. Why is it difficult to accept that someone just doesn't want you? And even better... why do you want someone who doesn't want you? Why do you want them to want you? I don't think (for a moment) that he and I should be together again. I don't. But my ego needs him to still want me. To regret his decision to dump me. I need that. I know it's not right, nor cool to say that but I'm being honest. In my twisted mind... he should always want me. (smile)




I date. A lot. Dating is fun. Sometimes its cool as hell. But its really shallow. Dating someone you don't know is just getting to know a stranger. No investment, limited risk. For me, after a few dates (and with some folks a few phone calls)... I find reasons to get out of it. I start nitpicking the poor guy apart. He's too tall. He's not tall enough. He has a lisp. And on, and on. The excuses are just that... excuses. As soon as it starts to feel like we could move deeper... I freeze. And I think about the ex. I think about how he just disappeared on me in the middle of my chemotherapy. I think about how my godbrother, my best friends and even my family... kept questioning me about his disappearing act. I think about the excuses he made to not be with me during the holidays. How my mother was so disappointed. I was honestly too sick and too tired to notice until my inner circle started asking questions that forced me out of my shell. I was busy trying to make the people around me believe that I was doing okay with my cancer treatment that I didn't realize that my relationship was falling apart. I noticed he was slipping away... but I didn't want to address it because I was afraid that he really would leave if I did. And then, it was March. And I couldn't avoid it any longer... so I pressed him. And he dumped me. That shit hurt.

My heart was broken because I had breast cancer. My body was weak from the treatment. My spirit was fractured because I just didn't know if I had to strength to keep going... and then my boyfriend (who had been my rock for months) was gone. I can't even tell you how many tears I shed over that. Today, its been two years since we ended that relationship. I still blame cancer for the demise of that relationship. I could be mad at him (and on some levels I still am) but I'm mostly mad at this disease. See, before we were in a relationship, we were friends. Real friends. Now? We're not even that. And it hurts sometimes.

So... when I talk to my friends and discuss their recurrences of cancer I get scared. I'm alone this time. There is no one there in my very intimate space to tell me that it is going to be okay and to hold me. There is no one there to cry with me and share that fear. I feel crazy to try to pull someone into that space because it doesn't feel fair to them. I do believe that I am a beautiful person. Inside and out. I really do. Now, I know that I am a handful -- inside and out -- as well. But I go back to the question I had two years ago... "who will love the cancer girl?" and I still don't have any answers. I just know that its time to move on. Two years is a very long time to be so scared... a very, very long time. I've got to move on. Life is for the living.

Domestic violence, breast cancer and safety

UPDATE: When I initially wrote this post in 2011, we were still coming to grips with the terrible violent incident between Chris Brown and Rihanna. Today, in 2014, we are now reeling from recently released video tape of professional football player Ray Rice, spitting and punching his wife Janay in an elevator. [See: Ray Rice elevator knockout fiancee takes crushing punch] As I've spent the past few days trying to understand why so many people were more concerned with Ray Rice's career (he was released from the Ravens and suspended indefinitely from the NFL) than with his wife, I was reminded that so many women are extremely vulnerable. Breast cancer survivors and patients are a very vulnerable population and unfortunately, some survivors are targeted for abuse and unable to leave. I continue to pray for my pink ribbon sisters. 
No one deserves to be abused. ~Nic Nac Paddywack

***************************

Right now, many of us are riveted to television and the internet following the story of Chris Brown's latest meltdown. (Chris Brown apologizes) And many of us are wondering whether this latest tantrum is just more evidence that this young man is just violent and without redemption even two years after his highly publicized physical altercation with Rihanna. We've all seen the pictures so I won't post them here. I don't want to cheapen this post with gratuitous pictures of either celebrity. This is about domestic abuse.

Disclosure: I have never been in a relationship with someone who abused me physically. Never. I have, however, been out with men who put their hands on me in a violent way and/or who scared me strongly with threats of physical violence. I am aware that you cannot underestimate the depths of anger and rage that some people have or how quickly that anger will show up. I will say that in each of those circumstances, they were bad FIRST dates that never culminated in second dates. That said... domestic abuse is real. And its difficult to understand, whether you're in the relationship or outside of it.

A few days ago I talked with a friend about a physical altercation she had with her partner. My friend is a breast cancer survivor and in the midst of an argument, her partner put his hands around her neck and choked her. My heart broke when she told me that. I didn't know how to react, what to say... I couldn't go to her side because we live far apart, but I was scared and angry and mortified at the same time. My personal experiences with domestic abuse are limited (as I disclosed above) but I know many women in my life who have lived with, been married to, and/or have been deeply in love with men who physically assaulted them.

There are some tragic stories out there

I did some research and the information I found was staggering. Many breast cancer survivors are also abused by people who claim to love them, or who are responsible for their care. I am not just speaking about sexual partners or married couples. 

Most breast cancer survivors are elderly women who rely on their family (husbands, children or grandchildren) to care for them while they go through treatment. And many of these women, as they fight for their lives against an internal demon, have to deal with being abused as well. 

Elder abuse, financial abuse, emotional abuse... are all real ramifications of this disease.

I will be the first to say that dealing with cancer is hard. Very hard. It is stressful beyond belief and it takes its toll on the patient and the people who care for them. But abusing someone because you are incapable of handling and channeling your rage in a productive way... is not the answer. It is never the answer. 

When I spoke with my friend about what she was going through, she spoke to me about feeling lonely while dealing with her illness. And I felt like such a loser because I have moments when I feel really lonely but I'm single. It's sort of par for the course, I suppose. But to be connected to your love, your partner and to know that they are incapable of helping you deal with the hardest challenge you've ever faced has to take loneliness to a depth that I simply cannot understand.

Financial dependence is real... and frightening because of the vulnerability it brings

Lots of breast cancer survivors end up losing their jobs for lots of reasons. Which often leaves them financially vulnerable and dependent on their spouse or their children to help them manage the costs of treating breast cancer. Add to that the stress of being in a weakened economy and all the stressors of just day to day living... and yes, I can understand how someone can snap in a moment of weakness. I'm not excusing the action, I'm just saying that I see how it can happen.

I wish I had the answers

I don't have any answers regarding domestic abuse. I know that it is easy to tell someone who is in danger that they need to leave. I know that it is easy to be frustrated if they don't. I know that in the best of circumstances, a woman who is physically abused is reluctant to leave her home. And I know that breast cancer is not the best of circumstances, so expecting grand change in the midst of so much uncertainty is expecting a lot. 

But I also know that there are people all over the country who can tell you that you deserve more. You do. I do. Everyone does. There is a point when your support of someone who cannot support you becomes unhealthy. It is one thing to love someone and teach them how to love you back. It is a wholly different thing to love someone who does not know what love is or how love is demonstrated.

You have to love yourself in order to set the standard for someone else to love you

Love is not yelling at me. Love is not withholding money from me. Love is not making me feel inferior because I have a disease. Love is not hitting me, or choking me, or kicking me. Love is not isolating me from my friends and my family so that you feel more secure. That is not love.

Love is kind. Love is accepting. And we all deserve to be loved well.

If you are being abused please check out the National Domestic Violence Hotline http://www.thehotline.org/

Or you can call 1.800.799.SAFE (7233) 1.800.787.3224 (TTY) to speak to someone anytime, day or night.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline website is set up with a safety button that you can push to immediately redirect your page to another site -- in case you are using a shared computer or someone is watching you.

Avon Foundation for Women does good work for survivors for domestic violence and also breast cancer.

The downside to the breast cancer war...

Lots of people are aware that the pink ribbon represents breast cancer awareness. And many millions of people suffer through this disease either directly or indirectly. All of it is hard. I know that I flippantly write about the emotional highs and lows of my time with breast cancer... pre- and post-treatment. I try to remain open and honest about the ways that my emotions still flutter all over the place... about how this illness changed who I am. I open my heart and my arms for any survivor who wants to talk about how they feel as well.

But there comes a point in this war where you have to know who your allies are and who just cannot fight alongside of you. I don't mean to diminish any survivor, or any friend/family member of a survivor. I know firsthand the pain of losing your body, losing your self-esteem and losing a loved one to this disease. I've been on both sides of that fence. Neither is a good side to be on. But for the ones who remain, the ones who have to continue to wake up everyday and find a way to keep going... for some of us... we NEED to make a way through this. Some of us use humor. Some of us use our pain. Some of us are quirky, kinky, overtly sexual... we use all sorts of tricks and things to deal with the aftermath. Because breast cancer is just plain hard. Period.

As I become more and more entrenched in this breast cancer world, I find myself running into more and more survivors who are so bitter and so angry that they lash out at everyone who doesn't hate pink like they do, or who chooses to find a different way to deal with the aftermath. And after reading a particularly salty exchange between a survivor and a non-profit organization recently... I just feel sad.

I feel sad that so many women feel further victimized by the pink ribbon campaign. I feel sad that some companies are more concerned with their bottom line that they've lost sight that the mission is to save lives. I feel sad that there just isn't one right way to deal with any of this.

I am not one of those survivors who wants to hide or run away from pink ribbons. I will admit, the first October I endured breast cancer awareness month after my diagnosis... I thought I would vomit from excessive anxiety caused by seeing all those pink ribbons every where. I was in the middle of my first episode with chemotherapy. I was bald. I was weak. I was sallow and I was sadder than I think I've ever been in my entire life. I'd never experienced a heartbreak as deep or as long as that one. October 2008 was the blackest time in my life. It really was.

I think I know the painful place that some survivors are in where they cannot see anything good about the pink ribbon campaign and the way that many non-profits are springing up and utilizing it. I think I know that deep well of pain that they are living with. Hell, I'll be honest... I still cry a lot about breast cancer and for the most part, I'm beyond all of the difficult days of treatment. But something always reminds me that I'm different. A twinge in my arm when I do too much. When I try on a blouse and it doesn't fit over the arm that is swollen with lymphedema. I am always pushed to tears because of something that snaps me back to the reality that I am different. To me, the options are learn to deal with it and find some joy somewhere in all of this... or die a slow and horrible death from the heartbreak it has given me.

Personally, I think it would be a shame to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in treatment, hundreds of hours in surgery and treatment and months and months recuperating... only to die of a broken heart. So, I'm opting to do it another way. I'm not saying that my way is best but it is what I think is best for me. I said all of this to say... I am no longer aligning myself with any and everybody who is a breast cancer survivor or a group/organization that claims to deal with breast cancer survivors. I am limiting my interactions and my support to those people and those groups that have an outlook that is similar to mine. As I move forward with building my own non-profit, I will carry that same thought process forward. Everyone just can't fit under the same tent. I'm only aligning myself with positive, happy, uplifting and encouraging people and organizations.

You don't have to try to change the whole world at once. Just take one step at a time, doing what you can do... and don't worry about what other people are doing. That's the Nic approach. What is for me, is for me. I don't worry so much about all the other stuff. For those survivors who are unable to be upbeat, I will love you from a distance. I will pray for you always. But for me...its about being happy, being able to be at peace with what has happened... and finding a way to re-strengthen my feminine spirit. That is the only battle I can fight.

Dating chronicles: My date with Urkel (not his real name)

Well, I decided a few months ago to take a break from dating for an undetermined length of time. I got through the holidays just fine and all was well. Not dating was fine. I still went out (alone and with friends), I still had a good time when I was out. I just didn't accept any dates.

So, just as the new year kicked off, I decided that taking myself out of the game wasn't the smartest strategy for finding love. (laughs) I opened my mind (and my heart) to the possibility of dating and maybe finding love again.

Hmm... I bet you can guess where this is heading, right?

I have an online dating profile and wow. To say that it has been interesting, would be a major understatement. It is funny and yet disheartening that simply connecting with someone can be so very challenging. So, after deleting message after message after message for months and months and months... I received a message from someone that seemed promising.

He was able to introduce himself and express himself well. He seemed...well normal. In a sea of strange, abnormal, and downright weird folks on dating sites, his normalcy was very refreshing. When he didn't press me too hard for conversation, was open to texting for awhile... I thought, "this could be a cool new friendship."  Long story short, after exchanging texts for awhile, he asked me to dinner. That's where things started to get sketchy.

I know that I can be a bit aggressive but when it comes to dating and such...so I try to pull back a bit so that my personality doesn't overwhelm others who may be a bit more reserved or shy. Well, it turns out that the guy I connected with on-line was a bit shy.

Sigh.

If you don't know by now... I do NOT like to date the shy guy. I really don't. And its not a diss to the many shy male friends that I have -- and I do have quite a few. But, I'm an outgoing and gregarious chick. I make friends everywhere I go. I like talking to people and its second nature for me to do so. None of that ever sits well with the "shy guy".  But... since Nic is opening herself up to love and be loved... silly rules like "don't date the shy guy" have to fall by the wayside. They just interfere with the flow of things.

So, my date asked me out. (That was a plus) And he suggested a date and a time. (That also was a plus) But... he could not seem to make the next step and actually figure out somewhere to go. Sigh. (personal pet peeve #1 -- don't ask me out and have no plan) So after going back and forth for two days, I suggested a nice restaurant that was in a very easily accessible location, with a pretty generic menu and that would be quiet enough that we could hear each other talk without shouting. The restaurant wasn't super expensive -- at least I didn't consider it one of the more pricey restaurants that we have in town. And I know that the food was well prepared, fresh and tasty. I thought I made a good choice. I picked a restaurant that was not super-casual but not super-formal. Because my date was close to my age, I tried to select an environment that I thought would be reflective of a place that we both would enjoy and that wouldn't be peppered with rude kids or poorly trained staff. Again, I put quite a bit of thought into my selection. And I tried not to be annoyed that I was planning the date that he asked me on.

I arrived a bit early (which for me is amazing because I'm almost always late everywhere I go) and I sat at the bar and had a drink. Now, work with me. I had the equivalent of a blind date. I had seen pictures of him online but I had never talked to him on the phone and I had no idea if he would look like his pictures or not.

He did. Sort of. He was about 3 inches shorter than I expected. *shrug*  Not a huge deal but definitely something that I took notice of. (pet peeve #2 -- people who misrepresent themselves) He was ok looking. Like, he didn't make me want to run away, and he didn't make me melt either. He was very much like Steve Urkel honestly. But, he seemed pleasant enough so... I decided to make a new friend, get through dinner and then reassess later on.

Blah, blah, blah. We're getting along ok through dinner. Our waiter was absolutely fabulous and quite chatty. Personally, I found it nice and refreshing. I thought that my date was as entertained as I was.

First snag. My date only eats meat and potatoes. Now... while the restaurant that I chose specialized in American cuisine, they actually did not have a meal on the menu that was JUST meat and potatoes. Sigh. (pet peeve #3 -- if you know that you have a challenging palate, or allergies, please make that clear when plans are being made) But, our ever so handy waiter eventually worked it out so that my date got his well-done steak (gag) and potatoes. With no greenery whatsoever. *eye roll*  The one good thing was that we drank the same alcohol, so we did have that in common. As we chatted about who we were and what our lives were like... he made a comment that made me sit back in my chair. He said to me that in all of his life (this guy was about 43 or so) he had never EVER walked up to a woman and introduced himself and asked her name.

*blink, blink*

Ever, ever? No. Never.

Sigh. Y'all know that this was a BAD SIGN, right?

He then told me that he was extremely shy. (RED FLAG!) He was too afraid to speak to women directly so he preferred online dating. (RED FLAG!) Mind you... this gentleman was divorced and had a young son. I honestly could not wrap my brain around the notion that someone who was adult, intelligent, articulate, reasonably accomplished... did not have the balls to just say hello to someone. To me, that smacked of an issue that could easily be something quite serious but I didn't press the issue. I tried not to be too judgemental because I figured that maybe there was a logical reason why he was incapable of speaking to people.

So... during the course of dinner... our waiter would stop by ever so often -- he was quite attentive without being intrusive -- and check on us. And he kept striking up random and rather innocent conversation with us and with the table beside us. Well... long story short... between the two tables and the waiter, we became engaged in an interesting conversation about dating in DC. The waiter was a young man in his 20's, new to the area and he was having difficulty finding women that he felt were suitable. He tells this story about how he planned this really wonderful date for a young lady -- ice skating in the Sculpture Garden and dinner at Wolfgang Puck's new restaurant -- but the young lady decided that she didn't want to do that. She wanted to go to Hooter's instead.

*side eye*

(Laughs) Me and the lady at the next table just gasped at the foolishness... and then proceeded to explain to the young man that there was nothing wrong with the date that he planned and we both encouraged him to continue to plan really nice and thoughtful dates like that. Because we both felt that women really do appreciate those types of dates. The three of us rattled on for a few minutes about the minefield of dating in DC and how it could be treacherous but didn't have to be... and then he was off doing whatever it is that waiters do when they aren't bringing you your food.

Meanwhile, my date had gotten really quiet. I tried to find out what was bothering him but he just said he was tired. And then the meal was over and we were pretty much done after that. Was it the best date I ever had? Not even close. But it certainly wasn't the worst. At that point. He offered to take me home -- I refused -- and then he said that he would text me in the morning. Which he did.

At 5:30a.m. I received a picture text of him. He was naked from the waist up. *side eye*  Now, I'll tell you this... we had NO type of conversation that could have even remotely been able to be construed as sexual in any form. We were not even close to that page. But in the wee hours of the morning, he sends me a picture of himself half naked. I didn't understand it. I replied with a cheery "Good morning" and then after I thought about it for a moment, I figured maybe he wanted a picture of me. So I sent some random picture of myself -- just a headshot -- with some makeup and without my glasses.

Fast forward to the afternoon. I get a text message from him about 3pm that explains why he suddenly got silent at the dinner table the night before. This guy proceeded to tell me that he felt that the waiter and I had gotten too chatty and we "exchanged personal information". Sigh. Basically ol' boy was mad because the waiter said that he liked to date older women. And I replied (being an older woman), that it wasn't unusual in this town that young men and older women got together. It was very common. And if that was his preference then he needed to stop wasting time dating young women his age, and go after women that were older because very likely they would be open to it.

Now... I will accept that maybe that seemed out of order. (Well, actually no, I won't accept that) But I wasn't hitting on the waiter and the waiter wasn't hitting on me. We were just having random conversation. But since my date was a social retard (can you use that word?)... he had no idea that two people could chat about nothing in general and it mean absolutely nothing.

So, he was mad. And it took him a total of 18 hours to muster up the courage to tell me that I upset him. I'm guessing that he had some help in coming up with that reason to not choose to see me again (laughs) because he had explained to me that he had a group of women at work (subordinates) who counseled him on dating in DC. Mind you, he got married here (laughs) but these women felt that they could help him find the one. Because I am a veteran dater, I asked him whether he was interested in any of these ladies or if they had interest in him and he denied both. But I've been to the rodeo a few times and I'm pretty sure that somebody looked at the GSA schedule and figured out what he earns and decided that his next wife needed to come from within his agency and not from the dating site. I was ambushed by the war counsel at work. (laughs)  Dating in this town can be treacherous. But its okay. I was momentarily annoyed and then I realized that he (and they) had done me an amazing favor. I wished him well and promptly deleted his number.

It wasn't the best date of the new year, but it was the first date of the new year. And it set the tone for me of what NOT to deal with as the year progresses. I used to be pretty harsh and quick about cutting off people that I felt I had nothing in common with... and I've decided that I need to stick with that. It works for me.

I knew from the beginning that we were going to have difficulties. I have to tell you, the inability to speak to women bothered me. No one should be so inept that they cannot say hello to someone that they find attractive. He was challenged when we discussed my cancer experience. He was speechless when he realized that I blogged about my life with breast cancer. And I know that he would not have been able to deal with me always talking to people about my life, my cancer and myself. That was far outside of his comfort zone. And it wold have been far outside of mine to restrain myself from being the outgoing and personable woman that I am, just so that his feelings weren't hurt as I engaged with people.

I have read on a few breast cancer sites that other survivors suggest waiting weeks or even months before discussing that you are a breast cancer survivor. For me, that is difficult because I wear my "Survivor" necklace proudly every day. And I am equally proud of my blog and my life post-cancer. To hide that, to me, would be the equivalent of trying to hide my brown skin. Its just not possible. I am who I am and a big part of who I am is what I've been through. My experience with breast cancer has changed my life. I wouldn't trade any part of that journey now.

So, I will keep dating. Though... no more internet dating. But I've been having an interesting year so far. Some good dates... some interesting prospects.

The awkward hair conversation

Let me start with... I have to shout out one of my favorite breast cancer bloggers for the idea for this post. Chemo Babe had a very poignant comment on her facebook page yesterday and it made me think (as her posts very often do). As several of us survivors chimed in on the topic she posted, several mentioned awkward comments they have received about their hair. So of course, being a black woman, I laughed. And being a black woman who has sported uber-short hair for many, many years... I heartily laughed because I remembered so many really awkward conversations about my hair texture and my hair cut since my hair has grown back after chemo.

As you can see in this picture... my hair after a fresh haircut is very, very short. I'd love to be able to tell you that I do this out of solidarity for my fellow cancer survivors. That would make me seem deep and very connected to my pink ribbon sisters. But honestly, I've worn my hair this short for over 16 years actually. I like the cut on me. I like the way my face looks with just a bit of hair around it.

But hair is a really big deal in the black community. We will put chemicals in it to color it, to change the texture, to loosen our natural kink into a flowing curl... We will buy hair (human or fake) to braid into our hair, to wear loose like a weave... We will spend hundreds, even thousands of dollars for hair installations (that's a very fancy name for hair weaves, I think) for wigs, for braids. We will tolerate unspeakable pain, and lose hours of our lives every week... in order to maintain our impeccably styled hair. And people will always ask you about your hair. Hair is part of our culture. We're always learning more, finding new styles, new ways to style our hair. We need to stay on point.

Scene from the movie "Good Hair" by Chris Rock. 

Black hair care is a billion dollar industry. We take hair seriously.

If you want to know how big black hair care is check out the movie Good Hair by Chris Rock. Now, try to imagine the conversations I've had with well-intentioned strangers about "what do you have in your hair to make it curl that way, or lay flat that way?"


Sigh. (There's nothing special in my hair)

So you wonder... Do I feel like telling this strange person that my hair is this way because this is what I received in the chemo hair lottery when it grew back?

Or do I say..."just shea butter, or clear gel or some other very true and innocuous response that doesn't really answer what I know they are asking?"

Is this a teaching moment?

Or am I tired and just want to be left alone?

Which way do I go?

Hair is a big deal to many people. And the texture of your hair really matters to some people. And if you have short hair like mine, people often assume that you're militant, rebelling against the status quo, a member of the "natural hair" tribe... or something else. When the truth is that I was hair-lazy before cancer and though I promised myself that I would let it grow and grow after it came back after chemo I couldn't keep that promise to myself. I don't like the way that I look with long hair or even longer-yet-still-short hair. I just really like my pseudo-bald head. And if it helps me to connect with other cancer survivors, that is a great added benefit.

So, the awkward conversations about my fancy new hair will continue I'm sure. I will respond on a case by case basis, depending on my mood and how crazy the person inquiring about my hair appears to be. At this stage, I am protective about what I put on my hair and I don't plan to ever put another chemical in my hair. I am not natural because I am rejecting chemically processed hair for anyone else. I am natural because in this state I feel that I am doing the best that I can do for my health. And that is the only thing that matters.

Being healthy... and being cute. :)

P.S. I've learned a lot about caring for natural hair by following several natural hair message boards and websites. One of the most popular, Curly Nikki, has a book that is a great big help for dealing with natural hair.

You can get a copy from Amazon:

My breasts don't make milk anymore...

Nightmares are back...

I have been dealing with nightmares (and night terrors) for a few years now. They go along with the territory of my insomnia and other issues that I have with sleeping. As disturbing as they are, I've gotten used to having them. They upset me, to be clear. But I have simply accepted them as part of my life and I keep it moving. Because I know that they exist in my world, I tend to dismiss them pretty quickly and keep it moving.

Except when I can't. And then I find myself mad, upset and just plain angry for days on end. Usually with a little pity party thrown on top at the end of all that angst.

I had a doozy of a nightmare the other night and that sucker has stuck to me for the past few days. The dream hasn't repeated itself but the fear it triggered is deeply real and I simply cannot shake it.

I've been experiencing some interesting symptoms in my body lately. It just occured to me after this nightmare that these symptoms may be indicative of a different cancer. Or it could be something else entirely different.  Either way, its not cool. I am working on not being a hypochondriac just because I am a cancer survivor. But walking the fine line between being fully aware and conscious within my body and freaking out over every small thing has been a difficult challenge for me. So, the nightmare that I had the other night triggered my deep fears about cancer recurrence and succumbing to another and different type of cancer.

I bawled like a baby when I woke up with a scream in my throat. I burst into tears later that day when the thought of that nightmare came back to me. And, in all honesty, I'm pretty damn close to tears right now as I write this post.

I hate cancer. I hate that I have friends who have gone through this madness multiple times. I hate that for some of us, the medicine they use to treat our cancer can be (in some cases) attributed to our getting a different type of cancer. I try to be strong most days. I really do. I believe that for the most part, I'm good at looking at the bright side of life and accepting that right now I am doing well. But, the what if's hound me.

As much as I can look back on my life these past few years and see that I came through a great storm and know that I'm okay... I will honestly tell you that if I never have to receive another chemotherapy infusion again in my life, I will be even better. If I never have to hear the words "you have cancer" again, I'll feel blessed beyond measure. And while I know that having cancer doesn't have to be the end of the world... I know that for many of us, it is.

I'm scared. I really am. No matter how much I look at my life and smile, that fear is always near by. Always.