Statistics Don't Lie

...but they definitely don't tell the truth. On April 24, 2010 I shifted from cancer patient to survivor. I earned my "Year One" badge. And with that was set back into the world to be free. 

My treatment was far from over. I continued to have surgery after surgery. In 2011 I began testing for uterine cancer, First an ultrasound then D and C and finally in September 2011 a complete hysterectomy and oophorectomy. Then my life changed. For the first time weight piled on -- 40+ pounds of it. And I cannot get it off. I exercise, diet, exercise and diet and then I eat a cherry pie. 

The level of frustration grows every single day. 

In my recent 6-year "cancer-vesary" I told my oncologist that if this how it is, I don't want to live forever. She said I needed a psychiatrist. Since 2011 I've been screaming at the top of my lungs without a sound being heard. I don't need to see a psychiatrist. I just want everyone to know the truth. 

Cancer survivorship comes at a cost. Oncologists call it a New Normal. Others call it "at least you're alive". Well I have news for those that haven't walked a day in my shoes ... this is not alive.

Take a look at the girl in the pink dress. Would you go out with her? When you look at her, what do you think? 

Now take a look at the girl in the blue tank top. What do you think of her? When she tells you she's a climber, what do you think? Yeah, really? 

It's OK. People judge. I judge. When I look at the girl in the pink dress I think she can do anything. And when I look at the girl in the blue tank top I think she should go on a diet. 

The pink dress girl was running in the Hood to Coast relay. The blue tank top girl was hiking the traverse from Peak 1 to Peak 10. The girl in the pink dress swam in the ocean after the team crossed the finish line. The girl in the blue tank top didn't get to Peak 4. What is the judgement now? I really think the girl in the blue tank top needs to go on a diet.  

How about when diets really don't work, then what? One of the doctors I saw said to me it's a matter of calories in, calories out. So I stopped eating. I have yogurt and granola for breakfast a tangerine for lunch, maybe a bowl of soup. Sometimes an egg. I'm done eating for the day. Only for a nutritionist to tell me I don't eat enough and that's why I'm fat. Anorexics don't eat at all. They are not fat. 

Another oncologist said I should accept the new me - the fat me. A primary care doc said I was fat because I don't sleep. A registered dietitian put me on "magic soup". It didn't taste great and I gained 2 lbs. She said I didn't do it right.

Recently I went to an endocrinologist. A specialist in hormones and metabolism. He asked me why I cared whether I lost the weight. I told him because I can't do the things I used to do. People judge me. He said so it was for vanity. 

It has nothing to do with vanity. About a year and a half ago I was working on a filming project. I was told that a consultant reviewed the footage and requested that I do a video to explain why I was fat. I actually had an interviewee ask me why I was fat and I answered her. The girl in the pink dress would have told her to fuck off!

Somewhere in this thing called survivorship I lost. In less than 60 days I will receive my "Seven Year" badge. Every day that goes by I keep going. I cling to something called hope. Somewhere inside of me is that girl in the pink dress. 

Statistics don't lie, but they are far from the truth. 

Side note: The endocrinologist is the first doctor I've seen since 2011 that actually believes there is something metabolically out of whack since my ovaries were removed. Under his care I will undergo testing over the next month to find replacement therapy. I asked him if I should have hope and he said yes.

"My first friend in America"

We live in a world of instant: Instagram, Instant Message, Twitter, Text, Tumblr, Snapchat, Facebook, Pinterest.

And in an instant I was reminded how simple it used to be when I received a text with this attached photo. A whole lot of life has been lived since these photos were taken.

Yet, I just want to find a way to crawl back into the skin of the girl smiling in the photo booth hanging out with her best friend.

Loss? Or just giving up?

There's loss of innocence like trying desperately to be 21 when I was only 15. Loss of the ability to do something I used to be able to do like back walkovers into the splits. There's real loss, like when my boyfriend fell 240 feet in a fatal climbing accident.

Then there's two days after his death when I was climbing with Nettle, wailing and pounding my fists into the rock barely able to mutter words when Nettle said to me "time has a wonderful way of healing and I know you don't think this now, but you will love again."

Years later cancer stole from me. I've lost my insides - every part that makes me female from my breasts to my cervix. I write "droid" on forms where I should check either male or female.

When I stand at the bottom of a climb I look up. Many times I've already given up in my head. It's a long climb. The ice is brittle. What if I don't have the gear I need. I'm done before a single ice ax is swung.

Loss is real, it makes life go round. My brother desperately tried to have kids for more than a decade. My niece was born almost exactly 1 year after my grandmother died, She's my grandmother in a beautiful new way. My brother never gave up. And after our other grandmother died, his son was born.

What will happen next when I'm standing at the bottom of a climb - figuratively or for real? How will I write the ending to the story? Will I blame loss as I give up?

I bought myself a greeting card a week before I started chemotherapy. Today it still hangs on my fridge and some days it is the reason I put one font in front of the other. I changed "you" to "me". On the outside it reads: Believe. On the inside it reads: Because I Believe in Me.

I'm not even close to the top of the mountain, but I show up and I climb.