It's been a minute since I shared an update on my fitness journey, and today, I want to be completely candid about why I took a break from the gym for the past two months.
Life threw me yet another curveball—a second bout with cancer. This time, papillary thyroid carcinoma, diagnosed less than three years after I survived chromophore renal cell carcinoma.
I know I am strong. I know I am resilient. But this second cancer diagnosis almost broke me, and I needed to take a break from everything. A long, long break.
Now, I'm back, and I'm ready to fall in love with bodybuilding again.
Round two: facing cancer again
Let's rewind a bit. About three years ago, I found myself on a challenging journey as I faced chromophobe renal cell carcinoma. After a radical nephrectomy and a lot of determination, I fought my way back to health. I dipped my feet into the waters of competitive bodybuilding, stepping on stage for the first time in November 2021. I also launched an online coaching business for fitness enthusiasts concerned with kidney health, started a podcast, and did some other cool things. I was on a path of rediscovery.
But you know how life can be. It has a way of testing your resilience.
I first felt the lump back in December, while riding my Peleton. I ignored it. I convinced myself it was nothing. Then, in January, while riding my Peleton again, I felt the mass again. And the mass felt bigger. I broke down. I pedaled and wailed, pedaled and wailed. I frantically sent messages to my partner, who at the time was on a work trip, with links to all the possibilities. "Thyroid nodules," the internet said. A symptom of both hyper- and hypothyroidism. Most often benign.
That night, I went to MyChart and scheduled a visit with my primary care physician. She was booked out for months. I didn't see her until the end of April.
My doctor wasn't particularly concerned by the nodule. But this is the same doctor who wouldn't rest until she had an answer for my abnormal kidney labs. So, to "be safe," she sent me for an ultrasound.
The person performing the ultrasound happened to be the same technician who found the mass on my kidney years ago. The minute I saw his face, I knew that the universe was preparing me for something significant. Fast forward a month and a biopsy later, I received the diagnosis: papillary thyroid carcinoma.
The emotional and mental rollercoaster
To say it was a gut punch would be an understatement. The second time around, the fear and anxiety hit even harder. I knew I needed to prioritize my health, but this meant taking a break from the gym—and from everyday life.
After undergoing a total thyroidectomy in mid-July, I decided to become a recluse. I took leave from work, to not only recover from the surgery, but also the emotional and mental trauma of being a two-time cancer survivor. During that time, I sheltered myself in my home, only ever leaving out of necessity. I barely saw the sunlight, except for the faint gleam illuminating our den.
I also limited contact with people in my life. For no reason other than I had no energy. No energy to talk. No energy to text. No energy to move. No energy to pretend.
Before undergoing treatment, I reached out to other thyroid cancer survivors. I wanted to know what I could expect—how I could prepare for my new "new normal." They all painted the same picture. I will feel tired all the time—that's my body adjusting to the thyroid hormone medication I will have to take for the rest of my life. I will have no power behind my voice—the surgery will irritate my vocal cords, and despite what the surgeon says, the effects can last longer than two weeks. And some days, I will have a terrible time getting out of bed—see point 1.
All of this has come to pass.
This time around, the physical effects have been easier to manage. But going through cancer again, and in such a short span,has brought a whole new level of mental and emotional strain. All my feelings—the fear, the anger, the sadness, the sense of déjà vu—were all magnified. It's like I am stuck in this loop of uncertainty.
My mind became a constant battleground, making it challenging to muster the motivation to do anything.
Listening to my body—again
Throughout this journey, I learned that rest and recovery aren't just physical necessities; they're crucial for your mental and emotional well-being. I had to come to terms with the fact that my body needed time to heal and my mind needed space to process what was happening.
Rest isn't a sign of giving up, and it certainly doesn't erase all the hard work I've put into my fitness journey. Instead, hitting pause is a sign of self-compassion—a way to recharge the body and soul for what lies ahead.
Of course, my ego couldn't accept this. And even though I consciously chose to take a hiatus, I found my choice to be a tough pill to swallow. I had to remind myself, every day, that I was not weak, that I was not a failure, that I am still capable of greatness. That listening to my body was a form of strength. It needed attention and care in a different way.
Giving my body time to heal—and my mind time to process—has helped me regain a sense of control. I don't feel as though I am rushing into working out to prove how much of a "warrior" I am. I am doing this in my own time, in my own way.
So, after two months of rest and recovery, I'm slowly easing back into my bodybuilding routine. It's not about regaining the strength I lost—it's about embracing a new chapter of my journey. I'm setting realistic goals, listening to my body, and finding gratitude in everyday victories.
I am also letting go of the things that no longer serve me. Going through cancer twice has changed the way I see things—my life today, the life I want, and all the bits in between. It's made me even more focused on my purpose and has given me a clear sense of what I need to do to make it happen. This, of course, will take time, so for now, I will reacquaint myself with some gym equipment.
Whether you're battling health issues or life's challenges, remember to be kind to yourself. Rest when you need it, find support in your loved ones, and keep the flame of hope alive. You are stronger than you know, and your journey is a testament to your unwavering spirit.
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