Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. The sound of the roller is all I’ve heard for two days. My back and shoulders ache from forty-eight hours of house painting. I am over it. I am sore and frustrated and yet still I have completed only a fraction of the work that must be done. I am completing this task alone and things are moving much slower than I anticipated. As I roll on a beautiful new shade of white (Behr’s Swiss Coffee a warm creamy white if you were wondering), I cover the old, dingy, dirty, dull white that has graced the walls for twenty years. With much time to think, it has occurred to me that recovering from cancer is like painting a house. Here are a few of the ways.
In The Beginning The Task Seems Insurmountable
On your last day of treatment when your team has high fived you and sent you out into the world to fend for yourself and you’ve had your good cry (mine was in the parking garage of the cancer center), you are faced with monumental question, “What now?” Your world is in pieces around you and the task of rebuilding seems impossible…a mountain to climb, or a three bedroom house to paint…alone.
Much as I stood, holding the roller and staring hopelessly at room after room of dingy walls on day 1 of house painting, on my last day of treatment, recovery seemed an impossible task. My life was forever changed. The way I saw the world was different. The way I saw myself was different. The things I wanted were different.
I was weak, had no physical reserve, and I was financially unstable. I could no longer tolerate the physical strain of the long hours and high stress of critical care medicine and it didn’t matter anyway because my pay and hours were cut by a medical group that took advantage of my illness.
On that day I could not even begin to fathom how I would put my life back together. The task was terrifying and monumental. But just as painting an entire house starts with one brush stroke, rebuilding an entire life starts with one step forward…and that’s what I did.
You Have to Do The Prep Work First
It would great if painting a house was as simple as rolling on a new color of choice, but in reality much work must be done to walls before they are ready for painting. Damage must be assessed, holes must be puttied, patched, and sanded. Edges must be taped. Perhaps a base of primer is necessary. Light switch plates and electrical outlet plates must be removed.
This prep work is absolutely necessary or else your time painting will be wasted. Without these crucial steps the old damage and color will simply show through.
In the same way, it takes a great deal of self work to be ready to truly move forward after cancer. As much as you wish to immediately put it all in your past and believe you are ready for the future, it just simply isn’t the case.
You are injured physically and emotionally and you have to face these realities before you can truly move forward. Without addressing the deep physical and emotional wounds cancer leaves behind we are simply slapping new paint on damaged drywall…it’s a shortcut and in the end it won’t look good and will have to be redone.
There are no shortcuts moving forward. That pain has to be acknowledged. Our bodies have to have time to heal. Our souls must have time to process the life changing trauma we have gone through. Only when we have acknowledged and begun the process of acceptance of these injuries can we truly be ready to move forward.
The Work Does Not Get Easier As You Go
That is the truth. Recovering from cancer (at least in my experience) does not get easier as time passes. In some ways it gets harder because over time as your activity level increases and life’s rhythm more closely resembles what it was pre-cancer…and especially after setbacks…things are harder. Your body and mind have changed. You are more fatigued and have less reserve. Activities you used to do without thinking are now a challenge. The ease of living you took for granted is gone.
And it doesn’t matter whether you are one month out of in my case 6 months out, working through soul injury is an unpleasant (though necessary) experience.
In the same way, day 3 of painting is harder than day 1. Today I’m tired, fatigued even. My shoulders and back hurt. I have to take more breaks. I am more frustrated that the progress is slow.
And in both painting and cancer recovery at some point you realize that it is going to take a lot longer than you anticipated.
The Little Stuff Takes the Longest
Roller work is fast-ish. Assuming prep work is done you can roller-paint the large walls of a room in a few hours. But at the end you step back and realize you are only about 80% done…and that was the easy part. Next come the edge work and trim. These are the areas that complete the room. They can make the difference between tacky and tasteful. They require precision and attention to detail. They are smaller spaces but still take longer.
In the same way, during cancer recovery, that first 75 – 80% of your abilities come back relatively quickly as long as you put in the hard work. But that last 20 – 25% you have to fight for tooth and nail. There are parts of you that are just flat out gone. There are abilities that you used to have that you simply don’t have anymore. And the fight to regain these losses is a long and painful one. It is a fight I am fighting every day. And I believe I can get there, but right now, I’m nowhere close.
The Experience Is Better With A Partner
There is no question, painting is better with a partner. As one partner preps and edges, the other comes behind to roller the big spaces. I have used this partner technique on past projects and things move much smoother. Painting a house is much harder alone, and takes more than twice the time because of all the pauses in work to change brushes or prep a new section.
My Australian Shepherd watches my progress with big eyes and she is a good cheerleader. Insisting on being close to me regardless of the activity, her dark fur has several splotches of white paint which I carefully remove every night. She has one large splotch on the top of her head which is going to require trimming. She is good company but on days like today I certainly wish she could hold a brush.
In the same way, cancer recovery is a lonely path. The work is hard and often sad and having someone to share the journey with would make the burden easier to carry. I am sad to say I have walked most of this road by myself. I imagine there are many survivors who experience the same. Not every support system rallies and even the ones that do lose steam over time. Long after the life of everyone around you has returned to normal you are still in the middle of an ocean on a broken ship. Sometimes a hug, kind word, or a card makes the difference between hope and hopelessness.
To Do It Well Takes Time
Recovery, much like painting a house, takes the time it takes. If you rush, you will make mistakes and have to redo work. Often my body and emotions are not on my desired time table. When I force my body forward past my current abilities, I injure myself and discouraging setbacks occur.
When I refuse to acknowledge my feelings and act as if I have emotionally processed my cancer, my emotions simply boil over in unpredictable or unhealthy ways. Setting realistic physical and emotional goals is a must. And being kind to yourself when you fall short is also necessary.
As for the painting, whether I like it or not, the four days I allotted to completing the paint job was unrealistic for one person. Now I must be kind to myself and acknowledge that I am not going to finish the project on my original timetable. And that’s ok, it is taking the time it is taking.
The Hard Work Is Worth It
After many hours of hard labor, when I finally complete a room, step back, and admire my work, there is a moment where I think, “Yeah, that was miserable, but it was worth it.”
Much the same, when I opened a jar for the first time after my mastectomy or again after my broken hand, I practically jumped for joy. The first time I was able to raise my arms straight above my head was cause for celebration. After days, weeks, or months of hard work, when you finally reach your goal or hit that milestone, there is nothing like it.
With each achievement you feel a level of gratitude that is not possible without great loss. There is of course a tinge of sadness when you realize how hard you worked for such a small achievement, something you may have done before unconsciously or with little effort.
Even so, each step forward builds back confidence and strength. You’re a survivor after all you’ve earned the right to be proud of your progress.
The Finished Product Is Beautiful
When I look at the walls I have completed I am overwhelmed with a feeling of accomplishment. “I did that!” I tell myself. “This is my achievement…and boy does it look beautiful!” And it does. The new bright creamy white walls are clean and welcoming.
When it comes to cancer recovery, I can’t say that I consider myself beautiful. I am still struggling with self confidence and body image. I don’t know if I will ever again look at myself in the mirror and see a beautiful person staring back.
But I do believe that my perseverance obstacle after obstacle has turned my soul into something more beautiful than it used to be. I am more humble, more kind, more empathetic, more grateful, more appreciative. My faith and spiritual connection is stronger. And if I’m being honest, if given the choice, I would not go back and undo it.
I will never say that cancer was a good thing, it wasn’t, it was the worst thing I have ever faced. But I can say that inside it has changed me for the better.
Much as I will celebrate completing this paint job and putting these days of hard physical labor behind me, someday I will celebrate leaving cancer behind. But for now, there is much work to be done. So now I will pick up my roller and get to it.
