Recovering From Cancer and Divorce Are Not Unalike

After the Loss, What’s Next?

The other day, I wrote about similarities between cancer treatment and divorce. The more I have pondered this, the more I realize recovering from these two catastrophic events also holds much in common.

It’s like math and music. Seemingly two different subjects, but yet both depend on mathematical principles, such as rhythm and harmony. Cancer and divorce share many common denominators.

Here are my reflections.

Divorce and cancer both bring profound loss.

Divorce marks the end of what was once a loving relationship. It also ends and/or changes other relationships as well. Spending time with old friends sans spouse has been painful, as I am reminded of how we all used to hang out together as couples.

Infidelity was the final death knell of my marriage, and with this came a loss of trust. For me, the infidelity was more devastating than the divorce. Losing trust wasn’t just with my former spouse, either. Trust in myself has taken a big hit. I was taken as a chump once already…not going to let that happen again! Shields UP! My self-confidence took a huge hit and it will take time and work to regain trust in myself.

Similarly, cancer takes a healthy body and poof! Cancer. Having a healthy body is now gone. So much for eating right and regular exercise.

How can you even trust your own body now? Every new medical appointment, every scan, every blood test, brings DEFCON 1 fear. In military terms, that means war is inevitable or already happening. Real and present danger abounds. It feels like your body has turned on you. No longer do you assume good health and long years of life.

And how about the actual physical loss of body parts? I am reminded of this each time I see the scars marching across my ironing board chest.

In post cancer treatment, there are other losses as well. The hormone blocker I must take for 5–10 years keeps my once plentiful hair thin and weight loss incredibly challenging.

The illusion of certainty is shattered.

Oh, how we humans love certainty. But yet it is an illusion.

I will never be one of those people who get cancer. Nor will I ever get divorced.

This has been a very tricky thing for me to sort through. I have a very high need for security and stability.

But yet here I am. No retirement. Inconsistent income because of the ongoing health challenges. There is no certainty in my world right now and it is daunting on the best of days.

This is where my spiritual beliefs comfort me.

When I can release my grip on certainty, peace follows. I am learning to live in the present moment more. Relax, nothing is in under control. The only certainty is Love’s abiding presence. But you must lose your grip on control if you are to find this.

Recovering from divorce and cancer treatment both require a strategy. Starting with one day at a time. Sometimes it’s bird by bird, as Anne Lamont puts it. Sometimes its breath by breath.

I may not be prospering financially, but in friendship capital, I am a billionaire. Having supportive loved ones must be top of the list. But I was also clear on what type of support I needed. I didn’t want treatment advice. Nor did I want to shit talk the wasband.

I asked people not to send me carrot juice recipes that “Totally cured Uncle Jim’s stage four pancreatic cancer!”

In a divorce, there is a time to vent and rage, but establishing that as a habit is a slippery slope. I didn’t want to become a man-hating, bitter woman.

Healing is not a straight path. There are dips, heights, more dips and more heights, with plenty or “what the hell am I doing?” Nor is there a timeline.

I have moments of feeling like “I got this! Watch me fly!” And then there are moments where waves of grief wash over me and I just want to eat a gummy and watch Schitt’s Creek on repeat.

Healing from cancer treatment doesn’t end when you ring the bell after your final chemo. Oh, hell no. The journey is only just beginning and often feels like being tumbled in a commercial dryer.

I get reminded of this when I brush my hair and see strands of hair in the hairbrush. Totally normal stuff. It is NORMAL to have hair in your hairbrush. NORMAL. But yet, it can flip me out because I can get triggered recalling how I lost much of my hair from chemo. (Cold-capping helped me keep about 50% of my hair, so I never went bald.) But still. Yet another example to me of the twists and turns of healing.

Things get worse before they get better. My teacher, Franciscan priest Richard Rohr, teaches this as “order, disorder, reorder.”

This is a truth to hang onto when you’re in the disorder stage and it feels like your life has been placed in a blender with the “crushed ice” option. Oh, and the lid is off. I felt perfectly healthy before this whole cancer bullshit. And then the disorder: I needed to poison my system in order to live.

Divorce proceedings are messy. Overall, the wasband and I handled this okay. We both wanted to preserve a level of relationship because of our adult kids. But the emotional pain is as difficult as chemo side effects.

The future can feel terrifying. After the divorce is done and dusted and I completed cancer treatment, I am now faced with a new level of terror.

The future.

Let’s see. After getting repeated throat punched by bad news, betrayal, and disappointments, it is hard to envision a rosy future.

During cancer treatment or divorce proceedings, you are kept distracted by the sheer busyness at hand.

But when it’s over, it’s time to consider your new path forward. This is your new life. How would you like to proceed?

You also grieve a future that will not happen. Growing old with my husband. Feeling waves of grief when I see pictures of other smiling couples celebrating years together. That was supposed to be us, grief whispers.

A post-cancer future brings a different grief. There is a delineation between life before/after cancer. There is an acute awareness of the brevity of life. Fear of recurrence is now a companion. It’s not going anywhere, so you must change your relationship to that fear.

Speaking of change.

You are permanently changed.

Cancer permanently changes you. Scars, thin hair, difficult hormone blocking treatment. And your medical file now has a “C” scarlet letter. From now on, any new symptoms get more scrutiny than someone without a history of cancer. Diligent surveillance should provide a level of comfort, but in reality, it stirs up more anxiety.

Divorce turns we into me. I also changed back to my maiden name even though I had my married name longer. It was important to me to go back to ME.

Infidelity has changed me. My tendencies toward cynicism would like to go supernova. Aw, what a sweet couple. I wonder if he’s cheating on her? I really, really, REALLY don’t like that my mind goes to these dark places. It is also too painful to watch any programs with a cheating spouse storyline.

Finally, you must choose the kind of person you wish to be.

Begin with the end in mind, Stephen Covey says. When it is all said and done, I must choose how I want to emerge out of all this.

It is a sobering responsibility. And by the way, not choosing is also choosing. Beautiful beginnings can come out of painful endings.

There are some many days, I must remind myself of this. Do I want to become bitter and withdraw? While there is certainly a time to turtle up and lick your wounds, doing so chronically is a one-way ticket to isolation, depression, and despair.

What will I do with this opportunity? Shrink and get small by living in terror of recurrence? Keep playing painful movies in my head over what happened to my marriage?

I desire to become a kinder, more empathic and loving person through this. I want to give back some of the love and support that carried me through the difficulties. This is also why I write about these deeply personal things. I have gained strength by reading others’ stories of hope after difficulties. I want to do the same.

We can’t control when nasty shit happens. But we can control our response to it. Loss is part of life.

Failure to learn from it denies full participation in this one wild and precious life. And you miss the opportunity to fully become the loving, open-hearted human being you are meant to be.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to contribute to my wishlist.