A Matter of Strength

Toward the end of my mother’s life, her nieces and nephew (my cousins) all made the trip to see her one last time. A few days after one such visit, my cousin Carrie sent me a card that said “You never know how strong you are until you have no other choice.”

I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly strong individual. If you yell at me, I might cry. I don’t do well with adversity. I’m something of a pushover. I tend to whine a lot. And I’m not nearly as calm and patient as I should be.

And yet, suddenly, I had to be strong. I was the advocate. The head of the household. I had to make the decisions. I looked after my mother’s house and my apartment. I tracked and paid two sets of household bills. I dealt with the attorneys. And the accountant. And all the doctors. The nurses. The nursing home. The hospice workers. The funeral director. I sat in that chair and watched my mother die. 

I will be forever grateful to my family, friends, and colleagues for standing by me. For helping me with decisions, feeding me, texting me, letting me scream when I needed to, and having my back every step of the way. But, ultimately, these were my tasks, my responsibilities. My strength was needed. It’s amazing how fast this became my “new normal.” It didn’t seem particularly “strong” of me. It was just another facet of my life that I needed to find a way to incorporate.

And these facets just keep coming. In the past twelve months: 

I was diagnosed with adult asthma.
    And I got back up.
I was diagnosed with stage I breast cancer.
    And I got back up.
I faced down a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy.
    And I got back up.
I endured chemotherapy and lost my hair.
    And I got back up.
I went through radiation.
    And I got back up.
I was diagnosed with a brain malformation called Chiari Type 1.
    And I got back up.
I was diagnosed with osteoporosis.
    And I got back up.

Taken all together, this is a hell of a list for anyone to go through. At the time, though, it didn’t seem like all that much. It was just another day. Just another doctor’s appointment. Just another test. Just another procedure. Just another step in my journey.

You never know how strong you are, until you have no other choice. 

I was told I have a “suspicious” mass on my ovary.

    And I got back up.

I am undergoing a partial hysterectomy in January.
    And I will get back up.