Those diagnosed with any form of cancer immediately are thrust into a world known as “the new normal.”
It is anything but normal.
“The new abnormal” would be a better name.
Normal will never happen again for me. My reality of attempting some form of normal for the last seven years doesn’t mean life is normal for me. It means I’ve learned how to exist in crazy. Maybe I should refer to present-day life as my old crazy because I’ve existed this way for so long. The new normal phrase has always rubbed me the wrong way because normal was ripped away and replaced with nothing of the sort.
Is calling what I do the new normal supposed to somehow make me feel normal? It doesn’t. Instead, it makes me feel like I can’t even do the new normal normally. Is it meant to make me or others feel better? It doesn’t make me feel better. I’m not sure if it makes others feel better. It potentially minimalizes what I do in the eyes of others. It invalidates my struggles in what really is abnormal because of the language that this is the norm.
The new abnormal is a topsy-turvy world of back and forth. It’s a world of opposites. I have felt wonderful and miserable.
I’ve gained and lost weight even though my level of exercise has remained about the same.
I’ve had my share of down days plagued with fatigue and others with more steroid induced energy than I know what to do with.
I’ve had no appetite and other times where I’ve eaten everything in sight.
Diarrhea. Constipation. One word sentences here are fine.
The medical world is a potpourri of repeating abnormalities. There are more one word or near one word sentences coming.
Labs. Office visits. Treatments. Side effects. Repeat.
Scans. Anxiety. Regrouping. Repeat.
I call insurance companies and billing departments far more often than is necessary. I rarely did when my life was supposedly normal.
I’ve gotten to feel at home with nausea. Ondansetron works well for me when it hits.
I’ve gotten to feel at home with many other drugs and supplements. I know what works for me and what doesn’t. I know my body well. I think I have finally broken through and convinced my team NOT to give me one particular drug used during MRIs that causes a worsening reaction. Every office visit begins with a review of my long list of medications.
How is any of that normal whether it’s the new routine or not?
In between all of this complete abnormalness are all the attempts to squeeze in any normal moments that are possible. ME time. I exercise and plan activities I enjoy that will keep me moving. Time with family and friends fill in normal moments. Football season has started. Go Badgers! Special occasions are sprinkled into my schedule when possible. There still is meaningful work that matters to me. Whereas my schedule had always been fairly rigid, I love the flexibility I now have. Being able to focus on purposeful work has been one part of my new abnormal that feels pretty close to my old normal.
The only constants are change and the need to live in the moment. Cancer has taught me lessons in change repeatedly. I am more present. It’s why I like #NotTodayCancer so well because I can be pretty definite about certain things as I go through my day.
The new normal is not the right term for how I live. Life is abnormal. Calling my life permanently abnormal is the best fit.
What even is normal?