I still don’t know how it happened. I don’t know when or why it happened. Did I do something do deserve this fate? Should I have been more careful with my body? Am I being punished for poor behavior? Was it stress? WHY ME?
It’s impossible for me not to ask these questions. The hard part is reminding myself that this isn’t my fault. They don’t know exactly what causes Hodgkin’s, so there’s no point in me trying to figure it out. Besides, what good would it do? Finding out how it happened won’t cure me. Still, it’s hard not to wonder why.
Being diagnosed with cancer was like being hit by a train. My life was running pretty smoothly prior to my diagnosis. Between modeling, acting, music writing, and my day job (yes, I have a day job), I didn’t have the time to worry about proper nutrition, how much caffeine I was pumping into my body, or how many drinks I’d had on the weekend. Scheduling a physical exam was the furthest thing on my mind. I felt healthy, attractive, strong – why should I need to get a check-up?
Things started to change when I was planning my wedding. The stress of organizing every thing while maintaining a healthy relationship with my fiance was exhausting. I found relief in weekend partying with my friends. Dirty martinis, extra dirty, three olives. That was my poison. I’d rationalize my behavior. I’m 24! Every one else my age drinks this much on the weekends!
I come from a genetic line of heavily codependent “users”: severe alcoholics, drug addicts, chain smokers, obsessive scab-pickers (gross!), bipolars, and drama queens and kings. Fortunately for me, my parents are the most normal of them all. Still, knowing what my genetics carry, I’ve always had a very guilty conscience about my partying intake. If I smoke this one cigarette, will I end up smoking three packs a day until I die (like my grandparents did?). If I drink three martinis tonight, does that mean I’m an alcoholic? I’d beat myself up over the worry of becoming an addict.
The truth was I had a pretty high drinking tolerance for my age. I could drink some of my guy friends under the table and still walk when it was over. I was prideful in this ability until something changed. My hangovers got unbearable.
I thought it was happening with age. I’m just getting older – I can’t handle as much liquor anymore. The after effects of a weekend martini binge left me unable to get out of bed, brain dead, achy, and completely depressed. Finally, after one too many bad hangovers, I decided it was time to give my partying a rest. My body told me to stop, and I listened. About a week later, a lump appeared on my neck. Time to schedule that physical!
I’m not accusing alcohol of causing this cancer, but I do think the hangovers were my body’s way of saying, “I’m not okay! Stop hurting me!” It was a major turning point in my life. I’d spent years ignoring what could have been signs and symptoms of health problems that I didn’t feel I had the time to address.
Knowing your body is so important. It speaks in a way only you can understand. Listen to it, love it, nurture it. Pay attention to changes, and SCHEDULE THAT PHYSICAL EXAM!
