The rawness of childhood cancer...

TRIGGER WARNING....

RAW THOUGHTS

 I don't talk about the negative part of childhood cancer much.

This year, however I have decided it is time to put it all out there.

I want to first say, I am thankful for all that has been done for me

in order to save my life back in a day that childhood cancer 

was a death sentence.

With that being said, there is lots a 5 year old remembers 

and listening to a podcast of other childhood cancer survivors,

I know that someone out there may need to hear this one day.

Believe it or not, back then I did not talk much.

Mom said when they took out my kidney, they opened my mouth.

Being in a hospital for 12 weeks without coming home

two months after your 5th birthday changes you.

I can remember the fear in my parents and family's eyes.

I didn't want to hurt them, so I kept quiet.

Yet I too was terrified. 

There were no ports back then, so chemotherapy 

went into your veins.

I hate having to explain when having blood drawn or an IV

that they won't be able to get a vein in a certain place

because it is a damaged vein.

Makes me sound like a drug addict...

so then I explain all about the childhood cancer.

I hate having to give that big story.

Then there are the lasting effects of it all.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?

What was that in 1968?

I did what many after war did, didn't talk about it.

Yet there were days I laid in my parents bed,

pushing and prodding on my stomach because I was sure

there was another cancerous  tumor lurking around there.

When because of the chemo, I had a yeast infection,

the drama and screaming about needing a suppository 

in an area that your parents told you no one should touch.

Being a teenager and realizing your clothing did not fit

the way your friends clothing did.

Because you had an empty area where your kidney had once been

and scoliosis which made your spine curved.

Standing in front of my parents mirror and realizing

that I may never tuck in a shirt because of this.

Feeling different from others.

I laughed at it all.

Yet, inside myself, I had insecurities that most

children did not have.

There is more....

Again, I am not bitter about having had cancer

as I believe I am who I am because of this history

and I pretty much am happy about who I have become.

However I want to preserve these things here

as one day I will not be here to tell the stories.