After months without posting, I dived into my blog once again this past week. The peace writing brings me along with the tinkering of widgets, layouts and uploading pictures is so meditational for me and that is huge in terms of quieting my brain. This was originally intended to be an outlet for me. A way to express myself. A way to come to terms with how my life had been flung into a different trajectory almost mid-course. It was a visual way for me to organize my thoughts, fears, dreams, hopes, goals, and somehow compartmentalize them in such a way that I could manage them all without losing my mind. Cancer has a way of doing that to a person. It is an insidious snake that wraps itself into every crevice of your being and makes you doubt everything you ever thought to be safe or predictable or comfortable.
What I found through this cyberjournaling is that I was not the only one feeling this way. I was not the only one going through this. I was not going to be the last. I made online acquaintances that stretched out their arms across thousands of miles, oceans, and continents to befriend me, to lift me up, to support me, to walk in spirit with me. I found friends near me that were willing to do the same. In this past year, I have become one of those spirit friends myself to many women both locally and far away. I have tirelessly advocated for early detection with my growing number of friends on facebook. I have reminded both the women and men in my life and those I randomly run into weekly, if not daily, to take care of their boobs. I have passed out self-check breast exam flyers to random strangers. I have done things in the name of breast cancer awareness and I have made it known to all that if you EVER feel you are having a scare, or you need information or you want to talk or you just need someone to pray for you or with you–I will be there for you.
I have had women I barely know and many I do contact me this past year. I have talked into the wee hours of the morning with strangers across the country. I have facebooked and I have messaged and I have emailed back and forth with others who are in the middle of a scare. I have begged and pleaded for everyone to get a mammogram–and to NEVER blow it off, and I have just sat and listened and cried with some who have been diagnosed. I never really thought in the beginning that I would later go on to become someone that would be a source of comfort to another that was fearing her worst nightmare coming true. I never thought that there might be a former high school enemy that would be inspired to go get checked for the first time because of me or become someone I actually appreciate now that we have grown up. I never thought that people would really read this blog. But, all those things have happened and continue to happen.
When I submitted my post a few days ago after a 5 month hiatus, I was astounded by the irony of what happened later that night. I was reminded once again that because of me putting out there the good, bad, and ugly, a woman somewhere would also be reminded that they could call me–to talk, to cry, to vent, to plan, to question, and to ask questions. I never thought I’d get a call anytime soon. But I did.
A long-time friend of mine messaged me through facebook. The urgency in her tone led me to believe that something was very wrong. This same woman began reading my blog from the onset and two weeks after I launched it about a year and a half ago, she found herself thousands of miles away going through a similar scare. She found me then on facebook and we talked and talked and talked. Her scare was just that at the time. I have learned that if you are a woman and you have a scare that is in need of biopsy or MRI imaging or you are told you have dense breasts or there are just a few “normal” looking calcifications showing up on a mammogram, you should be diligent in your self-care. My friend has done just that. However, her followup mammograms have been proving to be more questionable. Without telling many people, she went in for the suggested biopsy last week. She thought nothing of it because she had been told since that first scare she was fine. She wasn’t nervous at all.
She has just received the news. She listened to the woman over the phone tell her those words that change everyone’s life when they hear them. “You have breast cancer”. It wasn’t 24hrs. after posting my blog that here again was my friend–now facing the same form of cancer I did–DCIS–Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. I stopped everything, didn’t care if I was an hour late to a meeting, because I knew I was the person she wanted to talk to. I listened to her and I shared with her–the tears silently streaming down my face. She will be seeing her surgeon tomorrow. I am asking for prayers please.
Yesterday–I couldn’t help but feel a heartwrenching ache in my gut. I was mad. Mad that a cure hasn’t been found. Yes, early detection is the key and there are many pieces of health news always swirling around puporting to be something for you to do in order to decrease your risk of getting the disease. But ya know, I did most of those things and I still got it. Sometimes, no matter how you live your life, manage your stress, what you eat, or drink, or how much you exercise–sometimes you still get cancer. Sometimes it’s just predisposed in your genes and you don’t know when that snake will raise it’s head to strike, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to swallow. That pill still gets lodged in my throat and it makes me really mad. My status updates since finding out have been filled with angst. Many of them reminding everyone that 1 in 8 women (or men) will be diagnosed. Let me rephrase that–1 IN EVERY 8 INDIVIDUALS WILL HEAR THE WORDS–”YOU HAVE CANCER”.
I took stock of just the people on my facebook friends list and realized that many of these women had already had scares. A few had already been through their cancers. I wondered how many more in just that list alone would have to go through that. I put out a request for everyone to stop and go through their own lists and to take a moment and pause for a prayer for each person on their list. I might seem melodramatic to some and that’s ok. I get it. They just have never had to go through what I did and there is power in prayer, I do believe that. 1 in 8. That is too large of a pill for me to swallow. I sometimes don’t know what else I can do though. I have wondered what else I was meant to do. Maybe I’m doing enough. Maybe I could do more.
Maybe we could all do more. Maybe we could all just take the blinders off and stop trying to pretend its not one of the leading killers for women. Maybe those that are scared of having the pancake masher hurt them will be reminded that having your boob CUT OFF hurts more–emotionally, psychologically, physically, etc. All I can do is put it out to the cyber world now and scream!! GO GET YOUR MAMMOGRAMS!!!!! Maybe we’ll find a cure. Maybe…Maybe…Hopefully…I do hope. For now, “L”, you are in my heart and prayers as you embark on this road. Good luck tomorrow, dearheart. I am with you in spirit.