“I have a recurrence of my cancer.”
No, this is thankfully not something I’ve said, but rather
an acquaintance (and probably soon to be considered a closer friend) said to
me. She came up to me at a recent event and had told me these words. She and I don’t
know one another very well, but we have discussed our cancer journeys. I’m not
going to go into detail about her story, because it’s not my story to tell. But
it’s a fear everyone who has ever been diagnosed hopes to never say out loud.
She and I talked a bit and I know she was holding back
tears. Of course she was. She’s scared. AGAIN. That fear is the reason I went
radical and it’s the reason she is also having a double mastectomy this time
around. Her recurrence has again been found early, so that’s good news.
As she was telling me her plans, it all came back as if no time has
passed for me. But the cool thing is that time HAS passed for me. It'll be two years on May 29 since I had my surgery and can, at least to the best of my and my
oncologist’s knowledge, say that I’m cancer-free. My chemo was an insurance
policy, so as far as I am concerned, I’m cancer-free.
I’m so grateful for the decision I made, but it’s not
perfect for everyone. Some can get away with a lumpectomy, some just a single
mastectomy. I’m grateful that we have so many options. In my case, I’m thankful
that I had the courage to do what I did. It wasn’t an easy decision and every
single day, I’m reminded of what I went through and how difficult it was to
finally settle on the decision to have both breasts removed. I just couldn’t
live with that daily fear of it coming back. I miss my breasts. I’m not going
to lie…I really miss them. And I think about that every single day, but no
longer every single moment. And in the future, I hope to not think about it
every day, but rather only occasionally. Time will help.
I know I made the right decision, but I know it wasn’t just
an inner strength that helped me with my decision, but rather fear; fear played
a huge part in my decision. Fear can cripple or motivate. Fears are with us
daily. Last week, I had to combat another fear....running alone, outside. I
know, I’ve done it for YEARS. I’ve even looked forward to running alone,
outside, but ever since my cancer, I feel different about it. Actually, it
really started in January 2006 with my first anxiety attack. My husband was
having his second surgery on his ankle that was broken in a car accident, our
neighbor had stage 4 pancreatic cancer and I was only 5 months into my home
daycare where I cared for two boys under 9 months old. I was overwhelmed. I
remember the first one…I was SURE I was going to die. These attacks continued for
a couple of months until I finally went to the doctor for an answer. I was put
on the anti-anxiety drug Paxil. I took it for four days and decided that it
wasn’t for me. I felt drunkish and unsafe when driving. I turned to a natural
remedy – running. The endorphins I got from that worked like a charm. So, my
return to running was a godsend. When I got my cancer, I stopped running for four
months. To get back to it was tremendously difficult. My body was different
than it was before. I’d gained weight, my muscles had lost their strength and I
was mentally beaten up. I had grand plans of being where I was, pre-cancer, by
early 2015. It was a constant struggle. Running outside proved to be even more
work than on the treadmill. I began to fear my body shutting down mid-run. I
was so scared of it, that I hardly ran outside all last year. I was sure I’d
die. Crazy, right? It has taken way more energy than I can express, for me to
get outside and run. (Never mind the injuries I’ve had the last few
months…ugh.)
So last weekend, I went outside and I ran. I ran 6 miles and I even tackled the hill on Century Avenue in Middleton that I’ve not run up since 2014. I reached the top and let out a shout. Thank you to my high school cross country coach Mr. Kittel for that piece of advice. I do it at the top of every hill I run up. It clears my lungs and my head…it’s a celebration. I’ve beaten that which seemed so tough when I started.
So back to my friend. Today, she is having a double
mastectomy and she is lucky enough to have the same surgeon I had. She has
fear, but she’s a fighter, too. She’s going to get to the top of that hill, and
she’ll let out her shout, too. And I’ll be there cheering her on. And, whenever
she needs me, I’ll be there for her. I’ll be there because I have to and
because I want to. I want to thank her for thinking of me when she needed a
sympathetic ear, and when she needed someone who understands. I’m honored and
flattered that she came to me.
To my friends, please send positive vibes, or prayers, or
whatever encouraging thoughts you can to her. No one should have to battle this
beast twice and I’m certainly not going to let her battle it alone.
