Less than two months earlier a routine doctor’s visit and mammogram had revealed something suspicious. I was sent to the hospital for more tests and, to be honest, I was more pre-occupied with the logistics of the procedure-childcare, insurance, the inevitable bureaucratic nuisances, than with what the procedure might reveal. I knew my odds were good that nothing was wrong and felt no reason to worry. So when I got a call 24 hours later from the radiologist telling me I had cancer, I was completely stunned. I mean, had I really beaten the odds of NOT having a normal outcome? Kind of impressive in a strange way. Yes, weird thoughts like that floated through my head.
The next 6 weeks would be a crash course in how to navigate the breast cancer decision making process. Much of what I learned is that this journey is an incremental one which requires patience. A mammogram reveals that there is at least one spot of cancer. An MRI reveals several more areas of concern. With that, I can choose the less invasive route which requires more biopsies and more frequent follow up procedures and no guarantee that I might not be back in a similar position in the future. I can choose the most dramatic option-bilateral mastectomy-which preemptively eradicates any other dark surprises that may be lurking, but which sounds like something out of a horror movie. But whatever route I take, I won’t know if I’ll need to do radiation, chemo or both afterwards.
I choose the horror movie scenario given my family history and my young age (yes, there were bright spots to being diagnosed with cancer). Intellectually I know this is the best choice I can make but emotionally I’m completely clueless how it will affect me. In the weeks leading up to the surgery I’m terrified of falling asleep (later on I realize that anytime you are pumped with lovely narcotics and wrapped in a blanket surrounded by a cocoon of warm air you should just treat it as spa time, no matter where it may be taking place) and terrified of waking up and of what I’ll find.
Well, I did wake up, in quite a good mood actually. I remember telling the nurses all about how many AP classes I’d taken as they wheeled me to my room. I’m sure I was at least half as witty as I felt!I remember being ravenous and the nurse sneakily getting me a second tray of beige meat. I remember thinking “I made it. This really isn’t as bad as I feared.
In the weeks leading up to and following my surgery I experienced an outpouring of love and generosity that stunned me even more than my diagnosis. That is something I will never forget.
Cancer is a crazy-making disease if you ask me. In many cases, such as mine, it is easily treatable-cause for pause and taking stock of things, but not for putting your affairs in order. And then there is the vicious, unrelenting kind that ravages body and soul, stealing personal friends and statesmen alike. On the cancer spectrum, I feel like I had the equivalent of a test drive. Just enough exposure to get a taste and feel for the disease without having to fully commit. Just enough to experience the exceptional medical care my city and country have to offer. Enough to be grateful that, for now at least, there is a definitive end point and that I can speak of it as a past event. Cancer doesn’t play favorites and yet I often find it hard not to feel like I got off easy, unlike the everyday warriors who keep fighting relentlessly.
I’ve said that the two hardest aspects of my journey (I never felt sick, so it feels odd to call it a sickness) were dealing with insurance and watching my kids process what was happening to their mom and I still feel that way. A year later, the healthcare system is no less tangled of a web, but my girls are thriving. They see the scars, they were there for the whole thing and know that but for the grace of God it wouldn’t have been this manageable. I hope it was a good life lesson to see that when faced with something hard their mom chose to tackle it straight away rather than run away. I hope that this interlude will be a reminder that most of the time life is about hitting what is pitched to us and then running our hearts out.
