Cancer is a thief.

Cancer is a grifter.

Cancer is a psychological weapon.

Cancer creates a sacrificial lamb.

Cancer is a MOFO of the highest order.

The Straight Dope

I was just coming to grips with all I had been through fighting round one of adenocarcinoma. The depth of illness, exhaustion, pain, anguish, and trauma is immeasurable. Terrifying my husband and children broke my heart every single day.

As of June there was no evidence of disease. The treatment had been successful. Statistically I had a 60% chance of being alive in 5 years. Not great, but better than it could have been. I was finally coming to grips with living under the threat of the grim reaper.

Fast forward to mid-December and abdominal pain hit and wouldn’t resolve. After the third trip to the ED and doing everything to clear the diagnosed severe constipation, I was told I had a complete bowel obstruction caused by a cancerous growth. I needed emergency surgery and a colostomy.

It took a week and a half for pathology to reveal the type of cancer. There are no suitable English words to indicate my feelings on the matter.

And now I face another showdown. In many ways I know it’s going to be so much worse than before. The first time it remained static within my pancreas before it was cut out along with several healthy organs prophylactically. This time it’s in my lymph system. Absolutely fecking horrifying. METASTATIC adenocarcinoma. Oh, there aren’t enough expletives to cover it.

Losses and Gains

It’s difficult to enumerate the number of losses I’ve experienced since being diagnosed with cancer. And yet I will give it a try dear reader.

• Time - stolen, shifted, corrupted, occupied, shrunken, and ticking away like a countdown clock with a surprise ending.
• Body snatcher – body parts removed prophylactically to attempt to outwit the cancer, layers of scars added to my abdomen, poison running through my veins to slow or kill the beast, an angry liver left in the wake of the onslaught, stealing my beautiful hair, adding years to my external surfaces, exceptional fatigue, feeling ill, spoiling my taste buds and appetite, and the temporary disruption of GI function requiring a colostomy bag until chemotherapy ends.
• Physical intimacy – removing the desire for sex and fearing physical intimacy from the numerous surgical and chemical side effects I’m left with.
• Certainty – the knowing I would be here for my children and grandchildren (unlike my mother) until one of them had to care for me, living a long life like my grandmothers, aunts, and uncles, and believing being a fit and healthy person would keep me safe from cancer’s clutches and other bodily illnesses.
• Goals – I’ve been called to be a Family Nurse Practitioner for years. a couple of weeks ago I withdrew from the grad school program I was in. Why? My time is exponentially more valuable than it was before, and prioritizing NOW was necessary. If I beat this, I can revisit the process. I’m heavily grieving this loss.
• Peace of Mind – the disconcerting whisper constantly reminding me how close to the veil between the mortal world and the afterlife I am. Even in laughter, the sadness remains. It’s the elephant in the room wherever I go.

The gains are much nicer to think upon than the losses. Truthfully, they are also more difficult to remain focused on because the losses are so noisy and demanding of attention.

• Abiding friendship and support – I clearly know who my ride or die people are. My community shows up without fail in every way imaginable. You know who you are, and I love each of you to the bottom of the ocean and to the ends of the universe. I couldn’t do this work without you in my life whether near or far. I know without a doubt someone will be there to carry me if I cannot walk on my own. I’m accepted faults, quirks, and weirdness. I’m so thankful to know who my people are.
• Family – The closeness within my family structure is BEAUTIFUL. My husband, children, siblings, aunties, cousins, nieces…the list goes on. I know without a shadow of a doubt I’m valued, loved, cared for, and supported. I. Am. Wanted.
• Love – immeasurable, overflowing love from the corners of the earth. It keeps growing and expanding. It’s the invisible staff I hold myself up with, the cloak I cover myself with, and the air I breathe.
• Time – each minute of my life holds a higher value than before cancer. I may not know the number of breaths I have left; however, I do know that this cancer is trying to steal as many from me as possible. Every person I spend any time on or with should know how important they are. I will never again take for granted any moment.
• Faith – our Creator is bigger than all things. I’ve no fear of dying. I am secure in the promised afterlife. It’s the timing I’ve a problem with. Believing the calls upon my spirit matter and will come to fruition in the proper timing. I’m not a red shirt who will suffer a useless and meaningless death.
• Trust – in myself to do the work and stay the course. Trusting in the informed choices I make. I will leave no option unturned, undone, or unsaid to get to the other side of this. Trust in my strong still healthy body to show u and FIGHT for her life.

The only risk factor for adenocarcinoma I had was being over 50 though pancreatic cancer is generally a disease of the over 70 population. Cancer is on the rise in every demographic regardless of risk factors, screening matters.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for holding space and making room for my vulnerability. I appreciate you sharing my posts in the hope someone else will feel seen and heard.

Desirre Andrews, RN, BSN, CPM, RM, Brain Squirrel Wrangler

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