- Lauren Wolffis
- Aug 2, 2023
- 7 min read
Imagine the unthinkable: The phone call you never thought you’d have. The words you never thought you’d hear… “You have cancer.” Then the tears you never thought you’d cry. I’m not sure the initial shock of a cancer diagnosis ever goes away. There are still many days when I wake up and wonder if this is all just a bad dream. But the wide array of emotions experienced on a weekly, even daily, basis include much more than just surprise and horror.
I was on Facebook recently and saw a question posted in one of my cancer support groups asking, “will anyone ever understand what it feels like to be diagnosed with cancer?” Many women responded saying something along the lines of, “of course not, it has to happen to you or a close family member in order to understand the deep pain and emotion. No one else understands.” Though this is valid and often feels true, I thought to myself, “no one said I can’t do my best to try and explain how it truly feels to have cancer.” So, I will try to express the nitty gritty details and emotions that are unique to those closely impacted by cancer and are not enjoyable, but are very prevalent in everyday life. While this is not something fun for others to read, I’ve been using this platform to educate and hopefully help others impacted by cancer, and I believe this will be eye opening to many. I am not asking for pity, just for an open mind and heart to glimpse how difficult it feels to wake up everyday knowing I have stage IV cancer.
Following the initial shock of my breast cancer diagnosis described above, I experienced some of the saddest tears I’ve ever cried, as well as an anger deep in my soul. “How could this be happening to me!? It’s not fair, I’m only 26 years old with so much life to live!” I couldn’t imagine a worse scenario. While the initial emotions are oftentimes the strongest, this is not to say I haven’t experienced extreme sadness, anger, anguish, frustration, and heartbreak as I’ve lived with cancer over the past two and a half years. I have spent many nights crying in bed to Nolan, my husband, after receiving countless bad reports from medical scans. I’ve had times where I’m so upset, I have no tears left to cry. Maybe it’s because a certain treatment was ineffective, and all of the difficult side effects I experienced were for nothing once again. Oftentimes, it’s because I am repeatedly mourning the “normal” life I once had.
This is one of the hardest parts of receiving a cancer diagnosis. You have no sense of normalcy. Every plan you once had for your life seems to get thrown out the window and snatched away from your fingertips. For our family, it was losing the ability to have children, not being able to buy a house on our “perfect” timeline, and stopping work as a travel nurse—a career I loved—all because of one diagnosis. One day changed our lives forever, for what often seems to be the worst. In addition to these big losses, come many other disappointments. When you’re in active treatment, you’re forced to take things day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. As someone who is a planner at heart, this has been so incredibly difficult to manage. I find joy in looking forward to that vacation I planned, but now I don’t even know how I’ll be feeling tomorrow, or if in a month my treatment plan will change yet again. Although I've definitely learned to be more spontaneous, take things day by day, and go with the flow, I imagine this is something that will always be especially difficult. Having little to no control over your own life is not an easy way to live and I’m sure many would agree.
As if depression, and the inability to control your life is not enough, cancer also produces loneliness. I believe this is because of two factors: Number one, it is a relatively rare disease to have in your twenties; number two, the side effects from treatment—fatigue, exhaustion, mental fog, etc.—force you to require more solitude and resting time.
Before my diagnosis, I would not consider myself to be lonely or secluded. I was fortunate to rarely experience alienation since I was a pretty social person. The comfort and joy I frequently found in confiding and relating to my friends was unlike any other. Nothing could have prepared me for what it feels like to be “the only one” who has to live through cancer. I know this statement is an exaggeration, but this is how it feels. Of all my college, high school, and church friends, I am the only one with a cancer diagnosis. Being the only one in my circle of friends is not fun or easy. There is a barrier that cancer has created that forces me to feel isolated. This is not to say that my friends have not been there for me. In fact, it is quite the opposite! But regardless of how wonderful my friends are and how often they reach out to lend a helping hand or listening ear, there will always be a sense of loneliness, knowing there are no people in my circle or life stage experiencing the same life-changing realities as me.
Another aspect that contributes to loneliness is humiliation. I’ve never been one to love being the center of attention. It makes me uncomfortable for many reasons. Now, because of my diagnosis, it feels as though I’m constantly forced to be the focal point. When you walk into a room you’re sure to feel as though everyone is staring at you, especially if you’re bald from chemo or wearing a headscarf. It’s as if the whole room is staring deep into your soul and knows everything about you except for who you are besides cancer. By this I mean they really know nothing about who you are, but they for sure know you have cancer and then go on to make other assumptions because of your diagnosis. “I wonder what caused her cancer? She’s so young. I hope she’s not eating sugar because that feeds cancer.” Sometimes I just don’t want other people to know what I’m going through! I long for the days when I could blend in with the crowd. There was nothing unique about me. Just a normal twenty something woman. Nowadays, I can sense the shock and pity in strangers’ eyes when they look at me and put two and two together. This young woman is bald… she must have cancer.
One reason this is so difficult is because it feels like people treat me differently.
“I have to beat around the bush because she has cancer.”
“I can’t ask her how she’s really doing because she has cancer.”
While I know that cancer is a big part of my life - trust me, I’m living in it everyday - sometimes I want it to be the last thing people see when they look at me. There’s Lauren— a wife, sister, daughter, friend, RN, dog mom, Christ follower who happens to have cancer.
Cancer also makes you feel weak. Weak in all aspects - mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. There will be days when you can barely make it out of bed because of treatment. Doing normal day to day things such as going to the grocery store or doing the dishes can seem impossible. Other times you feel as though you can’t handle any more negative news. One more mention of cancer growth and you feel as though you’ll crumble. It’s funny because one of the most common things said to those of us with cancer is, “You’re so strong.” While I understand the intent, at times it seems comical hearing this when I can barely make it through each day without having a mental breakdown, and getting off the couch is a difficult task. Because of this weakness, you’re forced to learn how to rely on other people for help. This can be humiliating and cause you to feel like a charity case. It makes you feel super vulnerable and uncomfortable, especially at first. But with time, you learn that people want to help and it’s best to accept it.
Aside from all these negative emotions, there are a couple positives that have come out of my diagnosis. Cancer makes me feel extremely humbled and loved. Cancer has allowed me to understand how blessed I am by the amazing community I’m surrounded by. The love and support so freely given by friends, family, and even strangers is overwhelming in the best way. At times, I wonder what I did to deserve such great support. It is the biggest blessing. The way our community has rallied around us and been there for us in all of the many ups and downs is so humbling, it’s hard to properly express our gratitude.
I also do not want to dismiss the new relationships I’ve made specifically because of cancer. I know that loneliness is one of the most common feelings associated with cancer, because one of the first things you’re told to do after you’re diagnosed is to find a support group! In other words, go find some other people who are going through something similar so you don’t feel like a recluse. There is something so comforting, knowing that in reality I’m not actually the only 29 year old woman in the world diagnosed with MBC, and I am so thankful for those friendships I’ve created because of this terrible disease.
Being diagnosed with cancer is also humbling because God knows all the details of this difficult life path. Even though there are so many things I don’t understand, I know He has a plan for my life. It’s wild thinking that the God of the universe thought I’d be able to handle this insanely difficult journey. Well, actually He knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it on my own. That’s why He blessed me with such an amazing support team and His only Son to rely on. This road is painful, raw, and, real and forces negative emotions to frequently be at the forefront of my life. But through the pain, depression, anger, loneliness, weakness, and humiliation is a God who says, “I am there for you in the deepest valleys.”
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me and you comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).
He also tells us, when we are weak, we will be strong.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
