Breast Case Scenario

Sometimes I forget I’m fighting for my life.

I’ve heard things in the last six months like:

“The good cancer.”

“They’re just boobs.”

“This is curable, you’ll be just fine.”

And I believe them. Which makes this even more of a confusing place to be. Stuck between “Holy shit, I have cancer, what’s going to happen?” and “I’m tough, I can get through anything and I’ll be myself again.” These statements come from people who mean well. But I know that means they don’t really know how cancer works. Every single day, from the second I wake up to the second I go to sleep, I am fighting. Even when my physical symptoms are minimal, my emotions can go completely off the rails. If I have a decent mental day, something on my body fights me back. Most importantly, I am fighting every day that my diagnosis doesn’t progress. That it will never progress. That tiny, tiny cancer cells aren’t traveling places they shouldn’t, setting me up for another round of this, or worse.

But this is the pink, pretty cancer. We don’t talk about the “or worse.” 

This is literally the fight for my life. Life in the most literal and figurative definitions. The life I’ve always known, and the one I want to keep living. The life that literally keeps my earthly body breathing, and also the life, the soul, that keeps me laughing. The life that keeps me loving. The life that gets to continue to be a mom, be a friend, a wife, a sister, a daughter.

This life. The one I have spent 31 years creating. While I’ve never been one to take anything for granted, a cancer diagnosis will make you feel like maybe you have. Have I appreciated every little moment enough? Have I celebrated my accomplishments enough? Have I dared and dreamed and taken enough risks? Am I the woman I want to be?

I received a phone call in October that made me look my own death in the face, whether you want to hear that or not. I didn’t know how serious it was yet, but immediately I made myself a promise to fight like hell for all my sweet tomorrows. And for this life.

I’ve been a quote collector since I was really young, and one that has always resonated with me is “just because you carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy”. Something like cancer makes me think of this often. Treatment is taking it easy on me so far. I know I am tougher than this thing. Early scans showed my tumor was already shrinking. I am optimistic, I am hopeful, but I am deeply affected by this in more ways than I can honestly describe. It’s hard to keep living as normal as possible, working, taking care of my daughter, running my household to the best of my ability, which means people only see what’s on the surface. The truth is this is heavy, but I am just carrying it well. It’s heavy to live states away from some of your most trusted, already seen you at your worst people. It’s heavy to not be able to make any fun plans for the year because cancer made all your plans for you already. I miss who I used to be, and I grieve for some of the moments that will never be the same again. 

I am forever changed by breast cancer. I can sit here and tell you I will be fine because breasts are not vital organs, because that is true. But I have earned the right to be able to sit here and tell you when things feel too big, and too deep, and too heavy.

My hope is that I’ve shared a little bit more about the space cancer has taken up in my life. The life I fight for every single day.