The storm

I have been having difficulty finding the appropriate story or recipe with which to come back to this space. It feels like a major announcement, like a really big deal, to share what I want to share, and I want to do it right. But mostly I just want to do it. I want to get it out there so I can move forward. Because, you see, what I need to tell you is not exactly a good thing, at least not at first glance. It’s a really, really scary thing. And it’s hard for me to think about and I don’t want to freak you out. But I need to get beyond it. I need to heal.

So: off with the band-aid.

I have cancer. Or had cancer. I’m not sure yet if it’s gone. I hope so. I’ll know more next month. I found out about it just over a year ago, last January, a few weeks after my 37th birthday. I got thrown into the waves, bobbing, gasping, dog paddling, barely keeping my head up through eleven rounds of chemo and its myriad side effects. And then, in July, I found out I had a metastatic lesion on my right hip bone. Stage 4. I went under.

I thought my life was over. From that first moment in January when I learned that I did, in fact, have breast cancer, I prayed that it was anything but stage 4. I knew that earlier-stage disease could be treated, even cured, but that stage 4 meant chronic, terminal. No. Nonononono.

I was drowning. My doctors, my family, my beautiful little girl, my friends…they surrounded me, lifted me, pulled me back to the surface. I did some research, learned that remission was still possible. Learned that cancer statistics aren’t everything. I read that a small percentage of women with metastatic breast cancer never have a recurrence. I resolved to do everything I could to get myself into that group.

A month after I finished chemo, I had radiation to the hip lesion, followed by a double mastectomy and lymph node surgery. I had radiation treatments to my chest and armpit for 32 days in a row. I am now on hormone therapy and am also getting infusions of Herceptin every three weeks. My hair has come back with a vengeance, and my energy has returned. I have healed from my surgery and the radiation. I marvel at my body’s resilience, at strength I didn’t know I had.

Not long after learning that my cancer was stage 4, I began seeing a naturopath at the treatment center. If I’m going to stick with a nautical metaphor for this experience, she would be the one who steered my lifeboat to shore. She helped me understand that there were things I could do to affect my outcomes. She gave me real hope and practical tools. She empowered me to take back some control of my health and well-being. With her help, I have changed my diet. I practice yoga. I meditate. I see a counselor. I take supplements. I get acupuncture. I breathe. I laugh. I allow myself to be happy.

The hurricane has passed, and I am still here. And though I am not sure if I am through the storm or merely in its center, all that matters today is the blue sky and sunshine. There is so, so much to be grateful for.

I do believe I have many years ahead, and I intend to make them beautiful. I choose joy. I choose courage. I choose love.

I choose to live.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. See you soon. XO