The Time Has Come

Well, I think it’s time to hang it up, folks. I’ve been up since insomnia o’clock (it’s currently 5:56 a.m. — I’ve been up for an hour), but why is that interesting? It’s not. I’m happy to say my “cancer journey” is pretty boring at this point, so I think it’s time to move forward and officially bring Kirsten Kicks Cancer to a close. Perhaps I’ll leave the door slightly ajar.

When I was first diagnosed, after a failed attempt at utilizing a website service meant for this kind of thing, I made this site to keep people posted on what was going on. It has turned into so much more. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again — I have the most supportive family and friends and and am lucky to literally have dozens of people I can turn into in a time of need. But this crap is still really lonely sometimes.

It’s hard to explain if you’ve never experienced it or some form of something like this. And if I feel that way, with my droves of supporters, what might others be feeling? Despite being such an open book in general, I was hesitant to be so open about this. But then I remembered who I turned to in my early days of diagnosis, before I had even told my friends. A former coworker from Wisconsin who was in treatment at the time. An acquaintance who has since become a friend who had just had a mastectomy. I decided if I could be that for even one person, it was worth putting it out there.

Sometimes this blog felt like a lifeline to the real world. A public diary focused on mainly one aspect of my life, in which I tried to be as honest and open as I could while still holding some things close to the vest for me and my inner circle. I know for a fact this site has been a comfort to many, many people. There are those of you reading this who I have texted with in the middle of the night, spoken with on the phone about what symptoms we’re each having, and conspired to get together for coffee when we’re both better. If we talked about that — reach out! Let’s actually do it! Turns out life is busier when you’re better — why did we wait, exactly?

I’ve become somewhat of an accidental cancer therapist. Probably once a month I get a text or e-mail saying, “Hey, do you mind if I give my friend _________ your number?” Just last week I made a new “cancer friend.” She caught hers early, thanks to regular checks after losing her mother to breast cancer six years ago. No chemo or radiation, but elected for a double mastectomy. When we spoke there were kids interrupting and someone coming to the door (of course while her husband was momentarily away) while she was just three days out from her surgery. This. Shit. Is. Hard. She literally sighed a sigh of relief after some of what I said. Someone out there understands. She was nervous to see under her bandages for the first time. I told her the real deal — that I waited as long as I could to avoid it — 5 days — and that I almost passed out when my sister helped me get the bandages off. I had to sit down on her bathroom floor and thought I was going to have a panic attack. But I got through it.

So, I will probably keep renewing the domain on this every year for now in case it can prove to be a comfort to others. No two people have the same experience, that’s for sure, but this is a roller coaster and I’m so glad mine’s getting really flat and boring. Keep sending people my way. I love connecting with people and am so, so happy to help.

I want to help on a broader scale, but I’m not sure what that means. I’ve been writing some and kicking around the idea of a podcast or maybe a book? I even have a documentary idea, though not cancer-related. There are only so many hours in the day and dollars in the account, though. I love fantasizing and coming up with ideas and new things to try (see: my life, hobbies and careers), and am always open to the possibilities.

A few weeks ago the dining editor of HOUR Detroit magazine reached out to me. I thought it was some kind of an ad sales pitch, but we eventually connected. I still haven’t asked how/where she found me, but she wanted to interview me for the October issue — their health/top docs issue. Apparently it started as an idea to discuss food, healthy eating, etc., When she did a deep dive she discovered I was a doula and a cancer survivor, October being breast cancer awareness month. We had a good long chat, after which she said, “I have an idea — why don’t YOU write it.” Um, what’s that now? I hesitated. She said I could take the weekend to think about it. But before she even finished her sentence, I blurted out, “F—- it, I’ll do it.” What’s that saying about how if something scares you, you should do it?

Although some might see me differently, I’ve struggled to find my voice and feel confident in that, I think throughout my life. Worry of being judged. Worry of people taking things personally. Worry of — you name it. Yes, I’m confident in many ways, but sometimes — maybe a lot of times — I’ve been faking it until I make it. I mean, who cares what little ol’ me has to say? Well, maybe they don’t. But this editor did and I’m trying to stay open to all conversations and possibilities these days. She told me what she wanted the focus to be, that I had a week or so to do it and it would be 700 words. Wait, what? I think I have text messages longer than 700 words. And she wanted it to encompass A LOT. So, I did my best. Because it is an essay a drawing accompanies it, so no photoshoot (fine with me!). The issue comes out in about 6 weeks.

I hope I have thanked everyone individually for all of the tangible and intangible gifts and love you have shown me over the years. If I haven’t, know your acts of kindness, generosity, love, good vibes and prayers are appreciated and have not gone unnoticed. I literally might not be here without them and I know that.

At the risk of sounding cliche, cancer changed my life. In so many ways. Would I choose it again if I had a choice? Most definitely not. But I kind of think, instead of “Why me?" — “Why NOT me?” I’m happy I’m still here to tell the tale. I’ve had a boatload of support and still do. And there’s no question good has come from it.

I now have a good friend, who happens to have a daughter a year older than James at the same school, who I met because her ex-husband knows Daniel and when she was diagnosed six months after me she reached out. When my “first love” (or whatever I thought it was) learned I’d had cancer, he googled and found my Fresh Chef site. He called the number. For reasons I still don’t understand, I picked up. (I was at work, my client was standing right there, I didn’t know the number). One year later, I consider him among my closest friends. Some people who stepped up surprised me. Others who didn’t surprised me. Isn’t life weird?

I don’t know that everything happens for a reason (and seriously, please don’t say that to anyone having a hard time even if you really, really believe it), but you can certainly learn from everything. And that I have done and will continue to do. And I will continue to do my best to go forward in life with an open mind and an open heart, judging less, listening more. Knowing very little people say and do is about me. Doing my best to be a better me and allowing people to be who they are. Loving the girls the best I can and working as hard as I can to provide and survive.

Of course I will still have appointments and medication changes and a few blips on the radar screen. Hopefully I’m done with surgeries and anything major. Who knows — maybe I”ll check in when I reach a milestone or two. But I think our work is done here.

Until then, no news is good news.

Over and out.

K

P.S. Remember how I said I was participating in the Brushes with Cancer organization and its annual Twist Out Cancer event, both as an “inspiration” and on the host committee, and that we were looking for sponsors? That’s happening now! I’m participating in the Midwest regional event, which will hold in-person events for inspirations and the artists we’re paired with. Everything else has gone virtual this year. I’ll be reaching out to some people personally, but here are a couple of links. You can find out about the program via the site, but a quick overview is that it pairs cancer survivors or people currently in treatment with an artist. You share your story with the artist and they create a work of art based on your story.

The works are then up for auction as part of the event itself. There’s also a raffle — everything form wine baskets to vacation home rentals. All funds raised pay for the program, which includes art therapy and other workshops, speaker and author events, meditation events and more, as well as providing artists with supplies for the program and more. It has been incredible connecting with other survivors and thrivers in such a new and unique way.

If you have a business or would like to potentially be a sponsor, there are many different sponsorship levels. We are also looking for things to include in the raffle, if you have anything that would be good to include! You can always reach out to me for more info. Sponsors, depending on the level, include tickets to the virtual event and many other things listed on the web site.

You can also purchase tickets to the virtual event, or sponsor people like me, who get to attend a private in-person reception for participants. There is an add-on for a “TwistKit,” which will include food and drinks, in lieu of being able to attend an in-person reception. The organization is encouraging groups to get together for watch parties during the virtual program on Sunday, Nov. 14. I’ll be a part of it, as well as the artwork I inspired by a Detroit artist.

Of course, reach out with any questions — maybe I’ll skip the in-person Chicago reception and we can have a watch party somewhere! :)

General event info: https://twistoutcancer.org/brushes/midwest2021/

Sponsorship link: https://one.bidpal.net/brusheswithcancermidwest2021/custom/custom1

Ticket link: https://one.bidpal.net/brusheswithcancermidwest2021/ticketing