On November 2, 2021, I first shared Eline’s breast cancer story. It had just been discovered at the time, and she was at the beginning of her medical journey. She has now moved on, and today I am sharing the continuation of her journey. Read more on the website, link in bio.
It’s been a hell of a ride these past nine months of breast cancer treatment. When these photographs/this photograph were/was taken, I was still undergoing daily radiation sessions that took three weeks as a whole. Now, a few weeks later, I’ve come to the end of the most intensive part of the treatments. ‘Only’ seven years of hormone therapy awaits.
Six months of chemotherapy, interrupted by a dangerous yeast infection in my lungs (PJP) which hospitalized me for a week, breast-conserving surgery and radiotherapy. It’s been a lot to deal with, and I can’t yet fathom the extent of it so shortly after it has come to an end.
There’s the excellent part of the chemotherapy; it’s working optimally. Afterward, no cancer was visible on the scans. No active cancer was found in the tissue removed during my breast and armpit surgery. Leaving me in the select group of 10 to 15 percent probability of this outcome and allowing for breast-conserving surgery instead of a mastectomy, which was beautifully done.
Then, the unusual and difficult to diagnose pneumonia made me very ill and weak during the chemotherapy. It could have been fatal if the doctors had not figured it out. They put me on very high dosages of prednisone and particular antibiotics.
In that respect, I have been very fortunate with all the people – friends, family, and neighbors – who all came to help me. Walking my dog, cooking me meals, accompanying me to the hospital, keeping me company, and simply being there for me. It has been absolutely overwhelming, touching, and heartwarming. I have felt so much love and support, and I feel so blessed and grateful for this experience.
But then there’s also the other side of this journey. The absolute heartbreak of my parents seeing me go through this. The utter shock and pain my friends experienced witnessing it. Receiving the verdict of no longer becoming a (biological) mother due to the treatments. Developing severe anemia during chemotherapy left me exhausted after minimal exertion. The enormous fatigue caused by the different treatments.
After pneumonia and hospitalization, my inconceivably weakened body left me house-locked for weeks. The massive water retention caused by the prednisone and the weight gain resulting from its cravings. And then the chemotherapy-induced menopause left my joints and muscles aching. My mind and spirit are in a chemical imbalance, making me feel low-spirited and depressed the past few months.
It’s been a lot. And I’m not sure yet how I feel about it. The symptoms of menopause have taken me by surprise. I didn’t know about the joint pains the extent of it, and I might have underestimated the chemical imbalance it may cause. In addition, it has gotten me worried about my physical appearance and the weight gain as the hormonal changes related to it may have a massive impact on my metabolism. And there’s still an additional seven years of hormone therapy ahead.
I guess my body doesn’t feel like my own at the moment and, I don’t recognize my body when I feel or see her. It’s upsetting but also understandable after all I’ve been through. I’m in the process of finding new ways to relate to her. I want to feel grateful for what she has done for me these past nine months, not dismissive of how she has changed.
I want to celebrate her for her strength and perseverance, softness, and resilience. I want to feel comfortable in her skin. No, I want to feel beautiful again. I’ve worked so hard to learn to love and accept her. I understand that this ordeal has made me fall back into old patterns of insecurity and body image issues. I will try not to judge myself for this. I will make an effort to meet myself with kindness and compassion and start the process of recovery and healing.
