I Got What I Wanted

I was 36 when I got the news that I had Stage 3 Breast Cancer. A chance visit to the doctor for a diagnosis of bronchitis, and a check-up on some fibroids that were always present in my left breast, that turned into an ultrasound and my first mammogram that bore the bad news. Hearing that cancer was invading my lymph nodes and that I was going to lose my breast was devastating in more ways than the obvious. Among my first thoughts was would I be able to watch my 2 boys grow up and maybe even have kids of their own? How would my family cope without me? The look on my mom's face when I told her what was happening was heart-breaking.  She was faced with losing her first born...I could only imagine her pain and fear.

I went through almost 18 months of treatment and procedures, to be declared in remission in August of 2002. A celebration party with my friends and family that had been there the whole time supporting me. I had a smile on my face and was happy. I was a warrior who fought with all her strength through endless nausea, hair loss, painful healing from surgeries, devastating bouts of exhaustion, and trying to stay positive in front of those who were cheering me on.  Yet, deep inside, when the house was asleep and all I had to listen to was my own breathing, I was truly scared to death. Of death. It whispered in my ear on a constant loop how it was going to sneak up on me when I least expected it. Pushing those thoughts away was mentally exhausting. Each visit to my oncologist for checkups, Death would tap me on the shoulder, while the Doctor was telling me that my tests came back fine, and wink. "I'm still here." it would chuckle.  I never let on that I was anything but confident that I'd beaten cancer.  

July of 2010 I found pea sized lumps in my right breast. I immediately made an appointment to see if Cancer was back. They turned out to be benign, but with careful consideration, I decided to have my right breast removed to eliminate the possibility of any return. Healing was brutal and had to have another surgery to close the skin when the wound reopened. All I could think was that I no longer had to worry about the cancer coming back and having to go through treatment again. I was willing to do anything it took. I was so close to the 10 year remission mark, that was my goal. I'd moved to another city, had a really good job that I enjoyed and my boys were grown and living successful lives of their own. Remembering that it had been one of my worries that I'd never see them grow up and now one was married and talking about having a child, filled me with hope. 

Fast forward to June of 2012, I was newly married, had a grandson and was living a good life. The thought of cancer rarely made its way into my mind. I was looking forward to celebrating 10 years cancer free. I'd been experiencing pain while sitting for long periods of time and being so tired after doing mundane things, but brushed them off to being just a woman in her mid 40s. I went for my regular check-up and blood work at the oncologist's, and he came back into the room, sat down and began to tell me and my husband that my cancer was back. It had spread to my bones and was now considered terminal. Numbness. Static noises in my head. Bewilderment, anger, fear, sadness, feeling betrayed by my body once again. Death poked me in the chest and said, "See? You thought I forgot about you, didn't you?"  I walked out of the Doctor's office on auto-pilot.  Where was I going to find the strength to go through this again? And for what result? Just to die? 

I've gone through radiation, more chemo and will be facing more chemo in the future to control the growth of the lesions that have invaded my pelvis, ribs, femur, and spine. I am uplifted daily by family, friends--both old and new, and by a husband who refuses to allow this cancer to steal his wife. I am strong. I am weak. I am determined to live the time I left to the absolute fullest. I do the things I want without apology. No one gets to live it for me or tell me what I can or cannot do with the time allotted to me. My outlook on life hasn't changed all that much because of the cancer. I've had no epiphanies, I've always lived the way I wanted to. What I do want to leave to this small world I've created for myself is the encouragement to do what you love. Do what excites your mind, do what makes you wipe tears of joy. Do what makes a difference to others. I can leave this world knowing I made someone's life better or easier. That's the only thing I ever wanted. 

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