By: Jessica Lane
Cancer is a life-altering experience. It may sound cliché, but trust me, it’s true. I’ve undergone numerous changes—physically and emotionally—but the most unexpected transformation was how cancer taught me to relax and embrace life.
It all started at a routine visit to my gynecologist, where she casually mentioned, “I feel something.” After switching doctors, I finally felt I was in capable hands. Up until then, no OB-GYN had ever examined me above the shoulders. This time, she conducted a thorough check of my lymph nodes, and after what felt like an eternity of palpating my neck, she announced that she detected something concerning.
A week later, I underwent an ultrasound, and two weeks after that, I was informed I had thyroid cancer—specifically, papillary thyroid carcinoma. Following surgery to remove my entire thyroid, I underwent inpatient radiation treatment. Now, my life is undeniably different.
Physically, I am no longer equipped with the organ that regulates essential hormones for my metabolism, heart function, and body temperature. Heat intolerance, hair changes, indigestion, and irregular periods have become my new normal. I take a synthetic thyroid hormone, and while I’m managing, I can’t shake the feeling that my other organs might revolt at any moment (fingers crossed that doesn’t happen).
Cognitively, I also feel altered. Once sharp as a tack, I had a remarkable memory for details—where I was, what everyone wore, and every conversation I had. I was a fountain of information, always ready with an answer. Now, as I approach 43, I’ve had more general anesthesia in the last year and a half than anyone should probably experience. I can’t help but think my physical changes have affected my mental sharpness.
Initially, I panicked when I noticed the changes. I would find myself in social situations, struggling to recall things I once knew instinctively. I felt anxious, cautious, and constantly on guard, desperately trying to convince others—and myself—that I was still the same. The frantic pace I set to maintain my facade was wearing me thin.
Then came summer. For a multitude of reasons, it turned out to be the best summer ever for my family. I learned to genuinely let go—like, really let go—and it was a game changer. Surprisingly, the world didn’t collapse. In fact, life continued, and with far less stress. I let my new self emerge, and to my astonishment, it was just what I needed.
I now remember less, but thankfully, it hasn’t affected anything crucial, like forgetting my kids or missing work deadlines. I don’t keep track of where we last talked or what we discussed, but I’m more open to being caught up. This newfound spontaneity has led to more authentic conversations, rooted in the moment rather than rehearsed memories. I express my thoughts and feelings as they come, rather than what I think is expected.
The pressure to have all the answers has significantly decreased, which is a relief because, truthfully, I never had all the answers to begin with. I’ve cultivated my beliefs and opinions but learned to take my time finding the right responses. Compassion for my children has grown, as I now recognize the value of taking time. I feel liberated to occupy the space and time I need, and it’s a fabulous feeling. I can showcase my imperfect, uncertain self to the world.
In a way, cancer transformed me into the free spirit I didn’t even know I needed to be. If it took a major health scare to bring out this flower child within me, then so be it.
If you’re interested in exploring the path of home insemination, check out our other articles, like the one on the impregnator at home insemination kit or the home intracervical insemination syringe kit combo. For more resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit WomensHealth.gov.
In summary, my journey through cancer has taught me to embrace life, let go of past expectations, and find joy in the present moment. It’s a wild ride, and I’m here for it.
Keyphrase: Cancer transformation
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