A young physician's journey of recovery from surviving breast cancer to coping with the traumatic stress of providing front line care during the COVID pandemic
I take a deep breath as I stare out across the beautiful blue lake. The water sparkles in the gentle spring sunshine. The breeze gently tussles my hair. The spring scenery is straight out of a postcard but I am nervous. Today will be my first time scuba diving since being diagnosed with breast cancer …
One, two, three, four…I count to myself as I breathe deeply. “Breathing in calmness, breathing out tension,” I tell myself as I fight against the feeling of panic. I steady myself. My anxiety and fear level is a seven and I am mid-traumatic flashback and experiencing what happens when cancer stress triggers memories of past …
It is a cool winter morning. The sky is bright blue and the sun is shining as I do some light house cleaning. The porch door is open and I hear birds chirping outside. I feel at peace. As I straighten some items on the coffee table, my hand accidentally knocks over a small glass …
I step out of the shower and stare in the mirror as I do every night. My eyes are immediately drawn to my mastectomy scars curving under both breasts. They have faded from their initial angry red, to pink, to a light flesh tone that matches the rest of me. My breasts are beautiful, it …
I watch the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. A palm tree is outlined in gold against clouds. The evening air is cool and pleasant so I open a window. Sundown starts Yom Kippur. I understand very little about the traditions of this sacred day but do understand that it is a time for self-reflection, …
I watch the light slowly fade through my window. The clouds whip past and the palm trees bend against the wind. A major hurricane has just passed and the rain has finally stopped. I watch as neighbors cautiously venture out to assess the damage. In this moment my mind is not on the storm, I …
“Today was a good day,” I think to myself as I pull into my drive way. It was also a busy day, first as an occupational therapy patient and then as a physician examining patients. As I walk up the paver path to my front door, wearing scrubs and with protective gear looped over my …
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 …
It is just minutes after sunrise. My sneakers pound the creaky boardwalk suspended above the protected dune habitat. I hear the waves long before I see them. As I crest the dunes I am met with a peaceful and beautiful view. The white sand of the beach stretches out before me. Golden rays of sun …
“This is an interesting feeling,” I think to myself. My broken hand is floating suspended in a metal box while being gently massaged by warm air and therapy beads. My injured muscles ache after 30 minutes of range of motion exercises. This box therapy is designed to increase the blood flow to my damaged muscles …