Unexpected Light

In the flurry of surgery follow-ups and talks about long-term treatment options, I've been focusing on how to punch through each challenge with as much oomph as possible, using the momentum to get me through the next thing, and the next thing. My doctor has noticed this and mentioned it in passing during a few appointments, but during my last meeting with her, she sat me down and slid my file over to me.

"You need to see something," she said.

She pulled up the patient notes from my visits, starting with my ultrasounds, my pre-op, then the day of my procedure -- the prep nurse, the anesthesiologist, the recovery nurse - then my post-op and consultation for treatment. She'd highlighted sections that said "very strong!" and "manages pain with a smile" and "cheerful about options." She told me that all the feedback she'd had from her staff has been overwhelmingly positive, and that it's really uncommon to see women with my condition respond with humor and good cheer.

I cried. Hell, I'm crying now just thinking about it.

As she handed me tissues, she expressed worry that I wasn't truly facing my situation and that I might be bottling up the negative feelings and pushing them away.

I had to explain that the tears weren't about that. I was crying because they cared -- that each little note felt like an affirmation of my determination to not letting this change how I approach my life. Those notes are cheers and encouragement from people who have the context on how hard the challenge really is.

Post-op flowers

It's not in me to explain all the things about this that make it hard. I'm not interested in bogging someone down with the details just so they can tell me that I'm doing a good job handling it. That'd be a horrible and unnecessary thing to do to the people I care about and there's no benefit in whining to them about my situation.

Having medical professionals who are familiar with the condition, though -- who can look at my charts and see for themselves without me explaining -- to have them comment so positively on how I'm choosing to manage this is so reaffirming and encouraging. I don't even have the words for it.

I'm not a hundred percent sure my doctor understands, but she's trying. I appreciate her concern and dedication to both my physical and emotional health, and I have every faith as we move forward with my treatment that I'm in good hands with her and her extraordinarily kind and supportive staff.

Sometimes it's easy to get so distracted figuring out how to conquer the challenges ahead that you forget to take a pause and remind yourself how far you've come. It's so important -- seeing the beasts you've slain and the terrain you've already covered can be exactly what you need to get you through the times to come.