Archives for posts with tag: PTSD and cancer

I don’t want to talk about 9/11. Not here, not now. Sometimes intense emotional experiences are so private, so personal, and when people around us launch into their own personal narrative of how it unfolded for them, it flavors it for us. And that is not what I want to do. It is not fair to you. Read the rest of this entry »

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Clear as a bell, like our wedding day or where we were when 9/11 unfolded, we Cancerchicks can recite verbatim how we were told we had cancer. We can tell you who was with us, where we stood, what we had on, and how many times the phone rang before we reluctantly picked up. Read the rest of this entry »

I was chatting with a friend the other day about our respective surprise! divorces. He is about 5 years behind me in the recovery process and admittedly, still struggles with all of the anger and turmoil and the in-your-faceness that is the devastation of a spouse walking out on you. Read the rest of this entry »

Cancer treatment is a veerrrrrryyy, looooooong haul for all of us, starting the day we feel the lump, or see the look on the mammogram nurse’s face, or on the day we hear, “unfortunately there is bad news,” and ending well, honestly never, cancer is never-ending. Read the rest of this entry »

So recently, a friend and I were chatting about her last year of sobriety. It is such an immense and intimate and complicated journey, and through her words, I got a sense of the perceived cyclical nature of the beast for people navigating addiction. How this thing hovers above and teases at them, trying to get them to come out and play. How it taunts constantly and how it tries to convince you that sobriety isolates you. Read the rest of this entry »

The Keystone Kops installed my port. Read the rest of this entry »

I am a tough cookie. Very little spooks me and I have been pretty darn fearless about life. Read the rest of this entry »

Ugghh… I really didn’t want to write about this. This is the blog idea in the bottom of the barrel, the one I pretend I don’t see every time I reach in and randomly pull one for new ideas each week. Read the rest of this entry »

When you take a person who is already slightly more neurotic than the average bear, and you add a dose of breast cancer, you find yourself with a girl who thinks she has thigh cancer. Read the rest of this entry »

There I was, just sitting in the chemo lounge, politely minding my own business. All dandy in my barcalounger, port numbed and plugged in for my five hour poison infusion; a couple of Star Magazines and a National Enquirer in my lap, blanket nicely tucked in, ginger ale and a box of DOT’s (aka anti nausea meds) at the helm.

That was at least how she left me. But that is not how she found me.

Chemo Nurse Extraordinaire Marci was quite used to finding me engaged in the bizarre rituals I used to manage my anxiety. But even a seasoned pro like her was not prepared for what she saw when she turned the corner to find me well, lets just say, far from how she left me. National Enquirer splayed on the floor, tears streaming down my face, fingers in both ears, frantically and loudly humming the theme song from the Flintstones. Without skipping a beat (as if she saw this every day) she calmly said, “Lauren, what in the world is wrong now?” Note the word “Now.” If I thought 15 months of chemo was never ending hell, well imagine poor Marci…but I digress. Read the rest of this entry »

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