I haven’t posted in long while. My spare time has been
filled with my new part-time jobs coaching at CFA, and writing for Sweat RX
magazine (getting paid to write has unfortunately trumped writing up recipes
for free on the interwebs :). I am sad
to say that it is not a tasty new dish that has me busting out my slightly
rusty blog again; I decided to hijack my own recipe space to share en mass some
recent news and subsequent reflections.
The News
On Sept 6 I found out that I have cervical cancer. I spent
10 very anxious days having no idea how bad it was or what was coming next and
finally, yesterday, the results of some extra testing confirmed that it is a
small cell neuro-endocrine tumor. This
is a particularly nasty sort that normally lives in the lungs, apparently, and
has a tendency to spread. It is also very rare. My Doctor is apparently
somewhat of a Bigwig, and he and his Biggerwig colleague have seen only a dozen
cases in their 20 years. However, I’ve caught it fairly early, and Bigwig
assures me he has killed much larger beasts of its kind. I will kill it also. But it will come at the
cost of several weeks of chemo (I start next week), then several weeks of
radiation and probably major surgery, to make sure it doesn’t resurrect.
I don’t know if I will feel well enough to move, let along
work out; some people are knocked on their asses, while others feel mostly
fine, but I hope to visit CFA nevertheless as much as possible.
That’s the Readers Digest version. To those in my life, please don’t
be shy about talking to me about it. I (probably) won’t burst into tears.
Ladies especially, I’m very willing to talk about the details of discovery and
diagnosis if you’re curious (men, don’t worry, I won’t start talking about the
cervix here ;).
So onward to the philosophical part and the motivation for
the title of this post.
The Ramblings
During those 10 days of waiting, and even today after
learning the gory details, I find that I’ve actually surprised myself by not
having a 24 hour meltdown. My cousin went through a similar ordeal ~5 years ago
(also cervical cancer under the age of 30, coincidentally) and I distinctly
remember thinking, “I don’t know how she’s so strong and positive, I would be a
mess.” And when I first found out, I was a mess, for about 5 hours. But then,
channeling my cousin, I gathered my composure and I went to my box to coach and
to work out, because that’s what I’d planned to do, and I didn’t particularly
feel like crying anymore.
It was a surreal experience, watching everyone around me
carry on as though their world hadn’t just stopped spinning….because for them,
it hadn’t. I have a new appreciation for this: you never know what’s going on
in someone else’s life. Be kind, always.
I capped the very surreal day with a doozie of a WOD (100
burpees, interspersed with either 2 rope climbs or 5 deadlifts, every minute on
the minute) that left me weeping (only half because of the rope climbs) in a
heap on the floor.
I have had the occasional
meltdown since then; last Sunday the frustration of 200 doubl-unders squeezed the emotion right out of me and I found
myself sobbing in the back lot during the rest period. But these periods of stress and panic are far
fewer than I had expected, which has lead me to conclude that CrossFit has made
me far more capable of handling the Real Life unknown and unknowable than I
ever imagined possible.
CrossFit, and especially competing in CrossFit, has trained
me to accept what I can’t control. I don’t pick the daily WOD, I don’t
influence who else shows up to compete, and I certainly can’t do much about
their performance and eventual score. Fretting about what others are doing (or
what has happened to other people with cancer) won’t help me to do better. Whining
about a workout won’t change it, and no amount of moping is going to make my
cancer disappear.
As I sat in my car in the parking lot after the first news, having a good cry and wondering how I would deal with what was to come, something Brit said once,
ages ago, came sharply to mind. “You know,” she said, “if I lost a leg or
something, I’d just go win the Paralympics instead.” She may have been joking,
but it struck me as inadvertently profound life advice. More recently, I
interviewed Stouty, an adaptive athlete and fantastic crossfitter, who lost the
use of both legs and actually DID go win at the Paralympics.
I am entirely in charge of my own actions and attitude. I can’t
control what the treatment will do to my body, but I can do my best to prepare
it with good food and sleep, and I can manage my stress by staying as positive as
possible.
I am approaching this cancer as I would approach a heavy
bar; determined, ready, and convinced that it will go overhead, because I trust
that I have trained sufficiently. I know that my body is in the best shape it’s
ever been in, and I trust that crossfit and paleo have made my body as strong
as it possibly can be.
I feel physically prepared to win this battle, but I also
feel mentally prepared. This last 10 days has proven to me that even though “Murph”
and “Fran” make me feel anxious over the pain I know is coming, I also know,
without a doubt, that I will finish them, one way or another, and that you all
will be there cheering until the very last rep.
I refuse to let this disease dictate my every waking moment.
I will not let it take the joy from things I love to do, and the people I love
to be with. CFA is my sanctuary; a place
where I know that I can go and forget the world for an hour of shared pain and
exhaustion, or find a hug if I need one. Thank you all for making CFA the place
that has prepared me for this, and that I am confident will help me through it.
