If I’m being honest

Last week at the hotel, Sarah told one of the workers that she was a princess. But not only a princess, a brave princess. Boy is she right. She may not know what the word brave means, but she is right on all accounts. She is a princess. Sarah actually means “princess.” It’s one of the many reasons why I love her name so much. She doesn’t realize it, and probably won’t for a long time, but she is so brave. And I was so proud to hear her say that. Being brave is something that I feel like I am not, at least not all the time. I’m extremely positive about all of this, or at least I try to be. Mainly for selfish reasons. I have found that being scared and negative make me feel worse and I just can’t have any of that right now. So I choose to smile and be positive because if nothing else, it makes me feel better. And my Faith is stronger than it has ever been. Every time we get a piece of bad news, I take it as one more chapter and piece of evidence to add to my testimony. But being brave. That I don’t feel like I’m always good at. I have weak moments, some that I share with my husband or a friend, and some that I keep to myself. Not weak moments where I doubt my Faith. But more so myself. Do I actually have what it takes to face something as big as this and win? It’s not a battle, but it’s still something that I plan on coming out ahead on. As I shared in an earlier post, I won’t call this a battle because I’m not fighting this. I’m appreciative of how it has changed my life but now I’m sending it on its way. I just have these moments where I stop and take a step back and think about how much our lives have changed in 6 short (but very long) weeks. I still can’t believe that this is our life now. It just doesn’t seem real sometimes. I feel like I’m trapped in some sad movie. When people ask what I’m getting treatment for and I respond with “brain cancer,” I almost don’t even believe myself because it just doesn’t sound real. I mean, who goes to the doctor for a headache and then finds out they have the deadliest form of brain cancer? That just doesn’t happen. I was talking with a new friend, and she mentioned “the look” that people give you. I hate this look. It’s the “I’m so sorry you have cancer, I feel so bad for you look.” It’s the worst. I have also gotten a very similar look from people where they just stare at me, like I’m a dead man (woman) walking. I’M ALIVE PEOPLE. I actually feel more alive than I ever have. The world is so different now. Sure, I don’t feel like my normal self and that’s a little annoying, but I will feel like myself again. One day. Until then, I’ll just have to put up with the fatigue and feeling weak. It’s just a stepping stone in getting stronger.

If I’m being honest, I started this blog for myself. I was going to write in a journal but let’s be honest, that’s too much work and this helps me keep everyone updated without having to send a million texts. I started it for myself so I could work through my feelings and emotions because this experience is crazy. I was going to say it’s a roller coaster, but a roller coaster doesn’t even come close. This experience is a huge storm. It’s one of those storms that you have no idea what it’s going to do. Is it going to rain, hail, cause an earthquake, a tornado? Who knows. But it’s brewing right now (or at least trying to) and I’m just trying to process it all. I started this specific post with tears in my eyes but as I’ve gotten to this point, I feel stronger. And that’s why I started this. For myself. Sorry ya’ll.

On a happy note, with as much bad news as we have gotten, we had a bit of good news this week. I OFFICIALLY have no restrictions now. That might not mean much to you but let me explain what the last few weeks have looked like for me. Everyday Michael had to wash the incision on my head and I was only able to take a bath, not a shower. I wasn’t allowed to bend over, which means anytime I dropped something or needed to pick something up off of the floor or in a cabinet, I had to ask for help. I couldn’t drive (clearly). And the worst one of all, I couldn’t pick up my daughter. I could hold her sitting down, but I couldn’t pick her up. That one was definitely the hardest. But on Tuesday, just two and a half weeks after my surgery, I was given no restrictions. After my appointment we went back to the hotel and I immediately picked up Sarah and held her. She exclaimed “Mommy, the Doctor said your head feels better and now you can pick me up now!” I’ve never been so happy to just simply pick up my daughter. It really is the small things. I was also cleared to drive and ride roller coasters but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

I don’t even know how many days it’s been now but I’m still off of my pain killers and ALMOST done with steroids. So everyday my head is feeling better and better, internally and externally. I won’t post a picture because people don’t need to see all that, but for those of you wondering, you can’t tell I had brain surgery by looking at me. My hair hides the incision and it’s actually quite small. Maybe two inches long?  I still occasionally get headaches or sharp pains in my head but I’m trying not to worry about them too much because I know radiation is supposed to aggravate everything and cause swelling so I’m going with that for now. This journey has been so crazy. But I know every day is one day closer to being healed. Completely. (Yes, that was for you mom!)