Taking Chances

Two years ago, I would stare out the window and think about quitting and starting my own business. Even though I loved my co-workers, and being an editor, I longed for more creativity, more interaction with my community, and more opportunities to learn new things. But there were always a hundred reasons why not to: I had two young children; a mortgage; health insurance, and so much more. It just felt like too big of a chance to take.

One year ago, I was headed into surgery for a biopsy of one of my lymph nodes. I had been exhausted for months, run down in a way that made it difficult for me to pull myself out of bed some mornings. As a self-described morning person who usually got up at 5am, I would lay in bed and wonder why my body felt like lead; why couldn’t I shake this never-ending headache I had; why did I always feel sick? I thought I was just normal; every other mom I knew seemed just as exhausted as I was. I thought it was just work; I was burnt out on long hours that I was putting in on a high-profile book that I was editing. I thought it would pass; it didn’t.

A week after the biopsy I was diagnosed with cancer, specifically with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. “Congratulations,” my GP told me after being diagnosed. “You’ve won the cancer lottery. This is the type of cancer you want to get if you get cancer.” It didn’t feel lucky at the time but I understood what he meant: my cancer is curable; not all are.

Here’s the thing you learn about treating cancer: the whole thing is about taking chances. Your oncologist creates a treatment plan to the best of his or her knowledge, based on the most up-to-date research, contingent on your current protocols and outcomes, and your age, the stage of your cancer, etc. In other words, you get treated in the way they think will work because it has worked on others before. 

So you take a deep breath and dive in. My protocol required six months of chemotherapy; I didn’t realize until I was half-way through that my chemo regimen was one of the hardest to get through. I didn’t know that I would be so sick in the days after chemo that I would lose 10 pounds in two days and would have to be brought in for fluids due to dehydration. I had a friend undergoing treatment for colon cancer who once said, “The only way out is through.” And that is exactly true.

I went on medical leave. I constantly had no idea how I would feel the next day. I had no idea if I would have the energy to hug my kids. Emptying the dishwasher felt like a huge accomplishment some days.  I had no idea what I was doing because I had never done this before. My family and I just muddled through it. And we got there in the end. I went into remission in September, and have been working to regain my strength since then. 

And then it was time to return to work. It’s funny, but when your whole life becomes based on one chance--whether you live or die based on the outcome of a treatment, quitting your job to take a chance on yourself seems less scary than before. It suddenly feels like all those little chances I had been afraid to take weren’t that big after all, which didn’t mean they weren’t important, but rather if I failed it would be okay; I could just try again. So why wouldn’t I try at all?

I swore that if I got better I would start saying yes to more things. And that’s just what I did.

Blythe Robbins is co-founder of WRD WRX, a branding and copywriting company focused on serving businesses who create, inspire, heal, build, and educate. With over 12 years of experience as an editor and project manager, Blythe uses her love of words to help her clients develop content that shares their unique one-of-a-kind story. Blythe grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and now lives in Piermont, NY. For more information, check out www.wrdwrxco.com or email her at blythe@wrdwrxco.com.