Cancer and Unsuitable Clothing

Winter brings many changes to how lives in winter climates are lived. Some hibernate like bears. Others embrace the outdoors, don’t mind the cold temperatures, and admire winter landscapes. Wherever you land on the spectrum of winter enjoyment, suitable winter attire is a necessity for enjoying and surviving winter if you spend any time outdoors. Alfred Wainwright, a British guidebook author, wrote the following in one of his books:

“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.”

Alfred Wainwright, Coast to Coast

I purchased a new winter coat this year for winter. My new coat is supposed to keep me warm even if temperatures drop to 30 degrees below zero. I promise you I won’t be outdoors in such weather. I also have new snow pants that I can wear under my new coat. I have a new hat. My mittens and scarf are new from last year. All ventures in these so far have proven I stay toasty warm and dry.

My clothing is more than suitable.

I am ready for outdoor winter activity. I am ready to socialize while socially distancing. I want to see my friends. I don’t want to turn into a human icicle while seeing them. Just in case I feel my clothing is unsuitable, I’ll have a thermos of hot tea with me. Moving will be incorporated when possible. Come snow, cold, and biting wind, the pandemic will not diminish friendships any more than it has already. If nothing else, I’ll be out of the house trying to appreciate what a Wisconsin winter has to offer. I’m one of those people who thinks winter is beautiful (to a point).

If only I could be equally outfitted and prepared for cancer crap. I’m not talking about special bras, head gear, clothes for scans or accessing ports, or even the cute pink t-shirts some people just have to have. A lot comes into play to be even minimally outfitted for cancer. I am good at anticipating my needs. When I head to the cancer center, I do not travel light. I pack food and plenty to drink. I dress for comfort and easy access to my port. I bring enough to keep me busy while I’m there. I have my binder ready with my questions for my oncologist. My cold capping equipment is another necessity now always with me. I’m sure I look like I’m staying a few days rather than several hours.

Living with metastatic breast cancer means I must be mentally ready for what cancer throws at me. Metaphorically speaking, I need suitable clothing. I wear layers. There is a security wall I can activate in a flash when needed to protect myself from unwanted comments that pry, pressure, or are pitiful. Often, I surround myself with this wall at office visits for other reasons. There is a sterile and impersonal energy there I’m convinced must be pumped through the ventilation system. I do better emotionally if I can be somewhat detached and not feel so I can ask questions objectively and keep my focus. It’s hard because I make decisions and feel things out with my heart more than my head. Cancer has transformed that ability and I’ve gotten better than I intended at being numb to my feelings.

Another layer is planning for side effects and how they’ll impact my schedule. Grocery shopping, meal planning, meal prep, laundry, paying bills, trips to the pharmacy along with other errands, and all the things grown-ups do get planned around my treatment schedule and side effects. The occasional outdoor social activity is planned when I am most likely able to safely do it.

There are a few positive layers to my cancer clothing. I have my healthcare team. I have strong treatments. I have true friends who are a wall all on their own. Together, they form a mighty fortress to protect and support me as real friends do. I have traits that I like to think of as strengths: hope (belief, faith, spirituality), determination (stubbornness), and my sense of humor (perhaps this really is insanity). I consider myself a lifelong learner and love what I can learn about life and try to help others when I can.

Even with all these layers that may serve me well, I still feel ill-equipped to go up against the cancer beast. My wardrobe is most unsuitable where cancer is concerned. Nothing does what I need it to do – wipe out the cancer. Medical advances are not advanced enough. Everything is designed to lessen the effects, provide relief, keep me strong, while hopefully working against cancer growth. The side effects are still unsuitable. Additional drugs are doled out to address side effects and they have side effects of their own. It can be tough to track what ick is from what drug. The medical approaches are unsuitable. The overall survival rates from research are unsuitable. Research more often than not isn’t applicable to me. Unsuitable. The lack of more effective treatments is unsuitable. There are more and more complications that insert themselves into my life. I regularly have to tweak a hack that worked well for me to something lesser. A lot of the time I feel like cancer has stripped me bare. I’m left exposed, shivering, and defenseless. All unsuitable.

I need a treatment that surrounds me like a down coat and can keep me warm up to 30 below.

We all do.

Author: Kristie Konsoer

I am a breast cancer survivor, living well with metastatic breast cancer since 2012. This blog is a place where I can share thoughts and ideas on how I feel perceptions of cancer must change, and how I am finding a way to live with strength, hope, meaning, resiliency, humor, and hopefully a little wisdom.

4 thoughts on “Cancer and Unsuitable Clothing”

  1. Beautifully written, Kristie. Cancer certainly creates many unsuitable conditions. Thankfully, this year brings more hope since President Biden fully understands this. Stay warm.

    Like

  2. Hi Kristie,

    The comparison you make between layers needed for proper winter attire and layers needed for dealing with mbc is really good. It’s also pretty darn creative. I’ve never thought of it quite like that. You do indeed need and deserve a treatment that surrounds you like a down coat and can keep you warm up to 30 below.

    Keep writing. x

    Liked by 2 people

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