Unraveling the Emotional Rollercoaster of Treatment What No One Told Me

Navigating the Unexpected Emotions of Treatment

Freezing Eggs and Tough Decisions: My Battle with Stage IV Lung Cancer

By Natalie Brown, as told to Kendall Morgan

When I was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer at the ripe age of 33, let me tell you, life threw me a curveball. Suddenly, I had to make a gazillion tough decisions in the blink of an eye. One of the choices that weighed heavily on my heart was whether or not to freeze my eggs before the grueling treatment journey began. In the end, my decision was all about taking on treatment head-on, immediately. But let me tell you, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses from the get-go. Nope. I felt like I had been hit by a truck in the beginning. Exhaustion became my new middle name. And boy, did it take some time to wrap my head around the diagnosis. My mental state was like a rollercoaster ride.

The emotional impact and experience haven’t unfolded quite as I expected. Treatment has been surprisingly smoother than anticipated for someone at stage IV. But emotionally, every round of treatment is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re gonna get. Sometimes it’s a casual affair, like “Hey, I’m just here for my chemo vibes.” But on other occasions, it hits me hard like a bolt of lightning, screaming, “Holy guacamole! I can’t believe I have lung cancer! I never thought I’d have to pump poison into my system.”

Let me tell you, when treatment is on the horizon, I have to adjust my life accordingly. I try to do as much as humanly possible before the medicine kicks in, like a head start in a race. It’s a balancing act, trying to juggle work and treatment simultaneously. If I have treatment on a Monday, I’ll give it my all until Wednesday or Thursday hits, and then, guess what? The stairs become my sworn enemy.

Emotionally speaking, it’s a wild ride, like going through an emotional obstacle course. One moment, I’m cruising through life, and the next, I’m plummeting down an emotional abyss. It’s a complex blend of emotions that hits me every three weeks like clockwork. I’ve learned to anticipate that I’ll be down for a week, so I rush around like a Tasmanian devil on steroids. I wash all the clothes, clean the house from top to bottom, and make sure everything is perfect because, let’s face it, who wants to deal with house chores when you’re in the midst of treatment, right? The anxiety mounts, and I try to prepare as much as possible. Sometimes, it feels like everything needs to be flawless, or the world will collapse. And if I can’t get it all done, I’ll try to handle it during treatment, which ends up leaving me even more fatigued. Talk about frustration on steroids!

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But here’s the thing, sometimes, my body and mind just give up. I vividly remember, two treatments ago, when I cried and sobbed like a baby because the fatigue had taken over my entire being. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was grappling with this disease. Tears streamed down my face for an entire week, and I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone or even look at social media. I sank into a deep funk, like a turtle retreating into its shell. It happens periodically, and no matter how much sleep I get, the fatigue looms over me like a menacing cloud.

To help me navigate the emotional rollercoaster, I turned to various sources of support. A mentoring program and online communities played a crucial role in reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this battle. And you know what? I started seeing a therapist, something I never thought I’d do in my life. But believe me when I say it was a game-changer. Having someone there to guide me through the emotional storm has been an absolute lifeline.

Now, let’s chat about books. A lot of well-meaning friends gifted me volumes of wisdom. But here’s the scoop, I’d start reading them with good intentions, only to last a measly 20 pages. It just wasn’t my cup of tea. Instead, I discovered the power of podcasts, and let me tell you, those little auditory gems work wonders. They have become my trusted companions during treatment weeks. Sinking into a bubble bath with soft, mellow music playing in the background has also become my go-to relaxation ritual. Who knew that hot water and flickering candles could be such powerful healers?

But here’s the thing, it all takes time. I couldn’t immediately open up about my journey. Digesting the reality of cancer was a process, a slow dance with acceptance. But once I reached that point, I felt compelled to share my story with the world. We can never underestimate the power of raising awareness, especially when it comes to lung cancer.

Through it all, I’ve learned to find reasons to celebrate. You see, I’m turning 35 this year, which is just another notch on the birthday belt for most people. But for me, it’s a milestone of gratitude and triumph. Every year, every moment I’m still here, I celebrate with utter joy. Birthdays are no longer just cake and candles. They have transformed into an opportunity to cherish life. Oh, and you know what? I celebrate everything now. Scans, good news, you name it. I go all out, making even the tiniest victories a cause for celebration. Cancer has turned me into a positive powerhouse, of all things. I know, it sounds crazy. But trust me when I say that I embrace life with a newfound zest and appreciation that I’ve never known before.

So, dear reader, my journey with cancer has taken unexpected turns, both emotionally and physically. It’s taught me the importance of seeking support, finding solace in the little things, and, above all, celebrating life with every ounce of energy I have. And if my story can bring a smile to your face or inspire you to power through your own battles, well, that’s the icing on the cake. Together, we can navigate the stormy sea of life, one wave at a time.