🌀 Mood: Heavy, vulnerable, cautiously hopeful

When I was in the hospital, I found out something I wasn’t expecting – cancer hadn’t just been growing in my body — it had already started breaking it.

Multiple fractures in my vertebrae.

The cancer had weakened the bones in my spine to the point that they could no longer support me on their own. That’s why I now wear a back brace 16 hours a day. I can only take it off when I sleep, and even then, I have to be incredibly careful. I move slowly. I walk carefully. I watch for the cats underfoot, so I don’t trip. I’m living in a body that doesn’t feel like mine right now.

And that’s what brings me to this week. This Saturday, I’m scheduled for a procedure called Kyphoplasty. I had never even heard of it before.

In the simplest terms, Kyphoplasty is a procedure where a special cement is injected into the fractured vertebrae to help stabilize them and relieve the pain. That’s the hope, anyway.

Right now, my Oncologist is checking my labs to make sure I’m in good shape to handle the procedure. And depending on the results, we may need to skip chemo this Friday so I’m strong enough for the procedure. It’s all a delicate dance — treating the cancer but also repairing the damage it’s already done.

There’s something about this particular step in the journey that feels a little heavier. Maybe because it’s a literal fix for something that’s been broken. Or maybe because it reminds me that this diagnosis doesn’t just come with pills and appointments — it’s procedures, braces, bone cement, and a new way of moving through the world.

But as scary and foreign as Kyphoplasty sounds, I’m hopeful. If it can relieve even a portion of this back pain, that would be a gift. Maybe I’ll sleep through the night. Maybe walking won’t feel like such an effort. Maybe I’ll get a small piece of normal back.

Yes

One fix at a time.