In the world of bladder cancer survivors, I had the thing we all fear the most—a recurrence. I was seven years post-successful immunotherapy treatment and there it was: another tumor, followed by immediate bladder removal due to the aggressiveness of the cancer. I remember telling my new urologist that we had our first post pandemic family trip planned and I would have the surgery when we came back from Bermuda. He looked me in the eye and said, “Mrs. Weicher, I’m pretty sure Bermuda will be here in six months. If we don’t do this right now, I’m not sure you will be”. I knew then exactly how serious this was.

Post-surgery, I was of course happy to be alive, the cancer completely removed from my body. So I thought I should get used to my new normal—using a catheter through a stoma in my abdomen to empty my new bladder, called the Indiana Pouch. I adjusted, and as I got further away from surgery, I told myself I was fine. But the anger and frustration would creep in. I’d try to understand it, rationalize it, but then push it away. I tried to ignore how angry I was about the recurrence—really, after 7 years? I thought 5 years was a milestone? But I pushed on to learning and adopting that new normal—catheters and all that came with them. 

I live with a body that requires me to revisit my cancer all day long, every single day. I set an alarm every four hours to empty my bladder, and when it goes off, sometimes it feels like it’s screaming at me, “Yes, you had cancer and now you can’t pee normally—get used to it, you’re alive!” It wasn’t until I attended AFC 101: Essential Tools for Navigating Life + Cancer that I learned about what I was feeling: “Living in Contradiction.” Oh yes, my feelings are in contradiction! And I’m allowed to have them all? This was a new concept to me. Hearing others talk about how hard it is to do this gave me permission to try. And I realized I had been thinking my anger wasn’t valid.  

The seed of living in contradiction had been planted. I could see my gratefulness and my anger arguing with each other and trying to coexist. Very often my anger would yell, “Get the hell out of my way, it’s been a rough day.” Then later my gratefulness would settle over me and remind me that I have a wonderful retired life—I walked my dog in Central Park and sat in nature in the morning, played pickleball with new friends, learned about patient advocacy and spent time with my husband. What could be a better day? The alarms and the catheters were just part of life now. Then a few days later, those alarms would feel like they were going off every 10 minutes and I’d feel exhausted by it all. But now, I was starting—just starting—to be able to let myself be annoyed and not like it, and then return to joy. 

I love when life “sends me” a theme. I lead a support group for survivors with the Indiana Pouch, and a month after AFC 101, we had a therapist speak—and guess what she talked about? Conflicting emotions. The universe was sending me a message. What was I to learn here? Could it make my cancer journey easier or simpler? 

Last month I attended a conference for patient advocates. I thought patient advocacy was something you did to help other people, and at times it is. But I’m learning that often my advocacy journey is about my own growth. I went to this conference thinking I’d learn how to be better in service to others, and I learned how to be better for me! I met so many advocates with different health conditions. They shared how critical it is to be honest about the challenges we face with our health—both physical and emotional. That we can’t help people if we’re glossing over the hard parts. And we can’t grow ourselves until we accept that, as humans with serious health conditions, we face unique challenges. Some days will be easier and some days will be harder. 

That’s what life with a serious health condition is all about. I get it now. Can I do it perfectly every time my emotions flare? No. But I can hold joy at having a healthy life while holding the frustration when I have to pack 200 catheters, 200 packs of lubricant, and my other supplies into a carry-on that I don’t dare let out of my sight. Or when I’m in the airport and have one of my “unusual but they happen” leakage moments and am soaked with urine and my extra set of clothes is in my bag outside in the terminal with my husband, so I go running and hope no one notices. 

That’s my life, with all its emotions. And I wouldn’t want to not feel each and every one. These emotions and this journey make me the evolving person I am today.

Sandy Weicher is a two-time bladder cancer survivor. She founded and leads a national support group for people living with the Indiana Pouch bladder diversion and volunteers with the Bladder Cancer Advocacy Network as both a Survivor-to-Survivor mentor and the NYC Leader for the Walk to End Bladder Cancer. At the encouragement of a leading urologic surgeon, Sandy also shares her story on social media to raise awareness of the Indiana Pouch, especially among younger women. In retirement, she’s found a renewed sense of purpose through advocacy for bladder cancer and obesity, and loves spending time in the park with her pup, Hazel.