Hi. I’m Kate. Turn ons include IV drips, PETscans, and organic fig newtons. Turn offs include whining, hospital gowns, and artificial sugar.
Let’s see how much life I can squeeze in between work, chemo, sleep, and scans.
Analysis Paralysis
Analysis paralysis: over-analysis of an issue to the point where it can no longer be recognized, often resulting in lack of appropriate action.
I started looking for my kick-ass cancer shirt the day after I was diagnosed. I’ve been known to agonize over clothing before, but this was bordering on insane. There were just too many messages, too many options, and too many questions.
Cancer sucks.
I have chemo brain. What’s your excuse?
F*ck Cancer (available with or without the *)
One more MRI and I’ll stick to the fridge.
Cancer picked the wrong diva.
Did I want to be cute and flirty? Simple and understated? Bold and brazen? Did I even want this type of attention? As I went through the laundry list of questions, I realized they all had one thing in common, what other people thought. At what stage in life do you stop worrying about how you are perceived by others? I can say with confidence that it isn’t stage IV.
I wasn’t afraid of receiving pity, sympathy, or empathy. Quite the opposite. I was afraid of 
people thinking I didn’t deserve to wear a kick-ass cancer shirt. I could actually see someone approach me in the grocery store and tell me that I should be ashamed of myself. That kick-ass cancer shirts are exclusively reserved for people suffering from cancer. You see, I don’t look like your typical cancer patient. I’m very lucky that my noticeable side effects are limited to teenage-like acne and unbelievably long eyelashes. (pause to count my blessings). Because of this, people are often incredulous when they find out that I have cancer. I get stares when I casually walk into treatment and plop down in one of the comfy chairs. In fact, I have the distinct feeling that I’ve been ostracized because I still have hair. I don’t fit into the chemo clique.
But, hair or no hair, I still have cancer. It’s time for me to stop worrying about what other people think and focus on just being myself (all this from a shirt). It took me eight months to come to this revelation, but only ten minutes to decide on a design. It’s irreverent without being vulgar, fun without being flip.
And, as a friend would say, I think it’s very Kate.
Just checking in with you to tell you that I like the shirt and admire your spirit (and your writing style!). I’m a regular reader… and you’re getting a steady flow of mindfulness and support from this lady in Boston.
Great shirt!
Most people that see my mom (63 years old) think she’s “over being sick.” Or they think that she must not be on the “harsh” chemo because she still has hair. We’ve even had some come up and ask how she lost the weight. We’re very fortunate that she does look great and most days feels pretty good. Good enough to go into her business and run it for a couple of hours a few times a week. When she’s stage IVb PC, we think that everyday is a blessing! No matter how she looks.
Thanks for writing! Take care - I’m off to find just the right shirt for Mother.
Howdy, Kate!
Found you through Leroy’s blog some time ago and have been reading ever since.
Nice to have the reactions validated — as off-putting as those reactions can be most times. My best hope is that I’ll remember this discussion when the shoe is on the other foot. *shrugs*
Wanted to let you know that the ‘caring what others think’ clarity didn’t come with Stage IV at 60 (and I don’t mean mph), either *heh* But it came quickly thereafter!
Also want to thank you for the shirt/poster graffiti!
Have a great rest of the week and thanks, again, for the wonderful read!
“Pilgrim how you journey on the road you chose, to find out where the winds die, and where the stories go. All days come from one day, that much you must know, you cannot change what’s over, but only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds, one way leads to gold, another leads you only to everything you’re told. In your heart you wonder which of these is true; the road that leads to nowhere, the road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer in all you say and do? Will you find the answer in you?
Each heart is a pilgrim, each onw wants to know the reason the reason why the winds die and where the story goes. Pilgrim, in your journey you may travel far, for pilgrim its a long way to find out who you are.”
I believe you have found that strong vivacious person. I am just one of many supporting you in any way that is needed.
Always a good read, Kate!
A couple of weeks ago I began my search for that ‘perfect T-shirt.’ I was a bit worried that ppl may take offense to the saying or it would make them uncomfortable. Like, “chemo w*#re” or “hey cancer you picked the wrong b%^$#@”~~ nah, thought I better not! Guess I’ll keep searching.
I had AP pre-diagnosis and now I have it tenfold
I think, cancer has a tendency to make you overanalytical. Or, is it just me?
Anyway….. have a good one!
A friend told me you are a great writer. I’ve read through your blog and the comments. You are a great writer,and you created a great shirt, too!
My husband and I are cancer survivors, like you and many other thousands of people living WITH cancer. We’re all terminal, are’re we? a friend asked, when my husband told his diagnosis to our friend. Another friend said: “You can’t be sick, you look too good!” But the one who really shook me was a stranger. I was walking out of the Oncologist’s office with tears quietly rolling down my cheeks, and this older lady came right up to me–very close and whispered: “We don’t know why we are here, you and me, in this very place, at this very time, with this very disease, but God knows. Christ suffered, too. He promises we will know one day, but in the mean time, HE also promises to carry us through, be with us in all our ups and downs. One day you and I will meet in heaven and we will both know. Do you believe that God will carry you through? I’ll pray for you, would you pray for me?” I told her “yes” that was my strength, but I’m still sad sometimes. She turned and walked down the hall. About two months later I saw her again in the waiting room and said: “You really helped me the day you talked to me, I’ve been praying for both of us and many others, too.” and she said: “you really helped me, you show me that it was OK to cry.” We hugged.
Kate, I hope you know that God is and will continue to carry you and your family through the ups and downs, and heal you. My husband and I pray for healing every day.
Love the shirt — the green bag will go nicely with it! love your insights and authenticity -
Cheryl
Ok, Kate. It’s time for another installment. I was dissapointed this morning when there wasn’t a new message from you. Don’t be slacking off now, hear?
You can call me slooooow, but I just now got the shirt, I could not for the life of me figure out why you had all the army lingo…NERT. I LOVE IT! My favorite is my cancer sucks shirt, I meet all kinds of people when I wear it. Brian and I both wore them to a benefit thrown for us, it was our way of saying that he might have cancer, but it didn’t have him!
You are beautiful and I really enjoy your writing, thank you for sharing your journey.
You KNOW I love this shirt
Hello, I came to your site via Twitter. I just wanted to say as someone who’s family’s been not touched, but smacked upside the head w/ various forms of cancer (lung, lung, and leukemia), I ADORE your shirt. It’s wonderful and perfect. Thanks for sharing your shining spirit and attitude through your blog!
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