May 6 of 2022, I was waiting for surgeons to call me to schedule surgery. Knowing I had cancer growing inside me made me want to walk in to an ER and demand they remove my breasts right now but apparently they have processes in place. In April, I had just had COVID for the first time, my Dad died under strange circumstances and I had finally gotten imaging for my very first mammogram which revealed I had breast cancer. I went to the very same cancer center I had taken my Mom years before for her final oncology appointments. I felt like I was caught up Dorothy style, in a tornado named neoplasm of the upper right quadrant. I too was disappointed in that name, it lacked so much. It was devoid of compassion, information, resources and basic pazazz. I remember calling to ask the hospital why they did needle biopsies and not diagnostic lumpectomies? The poor schedulers said I had an appointment to discuss my diagnosis in a few weeks. I tried to stay calm and dive into research, I reminded myself that breast cancer didn’t take my Mom but walking into the same center for treatment was a special king of mindflippery.
My youngest was 4 and was trying to run out of school, my 8 year old didn’t want to talk about it. My husband, Charles was cavalier and absolutely could not imagine life without me so I just had to be okay. I had to. I had no other option. We were all that was left to care for our kids, Charles lost his own Mom when he and his sister were about the age of my kids. Believe me the irony was not lost on me. I had lost my own Mom in May of 2017 after being her main caregiver as she transitioned from this place and I was 6 months pregnant with my rainbow baby Alistair. I often wondered how the stress of that effected his genetics and now we had some new trauma to add to the equation for us all. I felt like I was living in a nightmare I wasn’t creative enough to dream up.
Meanwhile, For the first time in my life I felt successful. I had just closed on two houses with two clients I loved. I has just used my money to buy my boys bunkbeds so we could get my youngest in an exciting new big boy bed. We were finally making progress. I had spent my whole life taking care of others, not just because I had to but also because I was afraid to try to do anything on my own. I finally felt like all the energy I had devoted to my Mom and kids was something I could spread around in my community and even give to myself in measured doses. I felt like I was where I was supposed to be, I almost started to believe some divine equation was helping me find my purpose. I had created a Moms group and for the first time, I had a voice. When I had ideas people listened and encouraged me. I felt like I was finally getting close to discovering what I was made for. My diagnosis seemed tell me that I wasn’t allowed to have dreams or hope. It did it’s best to weigh me down.
I remember waiting for the kids to go to sleep every night so Charles and I could cry. After about a week or two, I finally had to draw a line. I could not live that way, Charles and I both agreed we had to raise our kids and we had to be strong. I told him we could cry again when the world finally took one of us but until then we had to not only live but thrive. We made it through and I know not everyone does. Time is a gift not everyone gets or wants.
Now I sit here, two years after my diagnosis rewriting my life again. Rediscovering who I am and what I have learned. Harassing friends about testing and finding doctors that fit them better. Writing my stories on the internet and throwing them in the ocean like a letter in a bottle. Hoping they find the places they need to be. I believe that my story and experiences can help others, I believe all our stories could change the world if everyone could just listen. I’m working on creating something new to help share our stories with the world.
I am recovering from elective cosmetic surgery as I write this and you know, I feel so oddly thankful I am here. I am finally back in charge of something and while it may only be for a few days, months, or years it feels nice to be able to make choices that don’t hinge on survival again. That doesn’t mean I don’t have those choices still on the menu but I can make them later. Today, I can do something for me. Something that makes me feel hopeful and excited.
I hope you will close your eyes today and try to think of something you have always wanted to do. Go and do it. Today is the perfect day to choose you. Choose you so that you can choose to help others. Choose you so that you might discover what you were made to be. All of us we are a universe unto ourselves and it is precisely because of this unique life we have lead that we have so much to give. We deserve individual attention and care and that should start at home, with you. Look at yourself and remind yourself you are your first best friend. Be the friend you’ve always needed. Follow that friends advice. Love your friend for all they do for you.
Two years and for every moment I am thankful, I am also mindful of time. Time is limited and precious. It’s also like this jerky ticking antagonist in all of our lives. I often sweat and wonder if it’s really a bomb. Do not waste time doing anything that doesn’t help you or the world around you. Yes, I know, job, must job to eat and do things we love but that doesn’t mean you can’t close your eyes and give yourself some love or respond to your next message with grace. It matters. Life is filled with so many seconds and minutes and not all of it can matter because we have to be humans and we need rest. Be kind to yourselves friends and then shake some of that kindness on everyone else. Kindness isn’t always nice but it’s really all that matters when it comes to living on this crazy beautiful carnival death race called Earth.
Self care is not a bad thing, it’s essential.
