“Wait. What? Am I going to die!?” were the first words I asked the doctor when she came in to talk to me after I had a mammogram and ultra-sound. “I can’t die. I have two little girls and they need me.” “Don’t go there” she responded. As soon as she said the word “Oncologist” everything became a blur and I have no idea what she said after that; I don’t even know how I got myself home. Although, I didn’t have all the answers (scans would later reveal more information), I experienced fear and panic like never before. I wanted to rewind the clock and get back to the life where I didn’t know I had cancer. For people who have cancer there is a very distinct, almost visible line. The line separates life before diagnosis and after. On August 25th 2011 I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I wish I could say that I crossed that line with my head held high but instead I crossed it kicking and screaming. I didn’t want to be a part of the pink ribbon club. In fact the color pink looks different to me now than it did before August 25th. I used to love the color pink. I remember those early days after diagnosis like it was yesterday. I cried every day, multiple times a day for a very long time. I am willing to bet that I cried more in the months between August 25th 2011 and January 11th, 2012 than I had my entire life, and that includes my time as an infant. January 11th is the day the tumor was removed via a mastectomy. On February 23rd I started my first round of chemotherapy and soon after that I lost my hair. “It will grow back everyone said.” On May 31st I completed my last round of chemo. On July 2nd I started daily radiation treatments for six weeks. And finally in August my hair started to grow back. It is two years later and after aggressive treatment and two big surgeries there is currently no sign of the disease - Thank God. Yes, there are scars, both emotional and physical that will never heal. A friend of mine called them “war wounds”. I often wonder how I got breast cancer and if it will ever return. There is no family history and I don’t carry the gene so why did I get it I ask myself? How did I get it? What did I do or eat? There are no answers which can be maddening. As you all know, I am type A and a control freak so I had to come up with my own reasons for getting the disease. At first the reasons were unreasonable. And now the reasons I give myself make more sense. One of the reasons is so that that I can somehow raise awareness. I feel compelled to write all of this for no other reason than to encourage you to think of me or your grandmother, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, niece or friend when asked to contribute toward breast cancer research. Please donate at least a dollar every time you check out at the grocery store or are asked to sponsor someone who is participating in walk-a-thon to raise money toward a cure for breast cancer. I am just one woman out of thousands and thousands who has been able to benefit from the generosity of so many people. Just one dollar from each of you can do so much. My hope is to someday embrace the color pink and the pink ribbon club. To the ladies who wear the color proudly, I admire them and hope to walk with them someday.
Posted on: Tue, 08 Oct 2013 03:46:45 +0000
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