I Have Come So Far

It was March 18, 2011 when I found out that my tumor was malignant. 

Sometime in April 2011, I walked past some bald women in SCOA (SC Oncology Associates) and could hardly look at them and hoped they couldn't see how uncomfortable they made me.  That was out of fear that I was going to look like them.  I knew I was about to join them and I wasn't ready.

During the first phase of my journey, I remember wondering:  Why do people keep looking at me like they feel SO sorry for me?  As if I'm going to die in the next few days?  Why is my beloved OBGyn so upset after reading my pathology report?  Is it THAT bad?  What am I not aware of that she is?  I remember sitting and listening to the first surgeon we spoke to on Day 2 who said, "I recommend a mastectomy everyday of the week and twice on Sunday." and keeping a brave, straight face because I had prepared myself to hear the word mastectomy.  I remember feeling like I was watching this unfold from up above instead of actually being in the moment.  I remember people saying, 'You're going to beat this!' and 'You're a fighter!'  There were so many things that I heard and saw that my mind and body hadn't "caught up" with, so to speak.  I remember walking into stores/businesses and thinking, 'Don't you know I am walking around with cancer in my body???'

Now, I get it more.  Then, I think I was in denial and stunned and trying to process and trying to teach school and take care of my girls and having two surgeries and trying to be strong and wanting to do whatever it took to push forward and make it through.

This past Monday - a week after my final chemo treatment, Charles, Macy, Molly and I were eating lunch with some dear friends at a deli in downtown Columbia.  I had woken up that morning and could tell I was going to feel better that day.  A lady with a sparkly, bedazzled hat came up to where I was sitting in the restaurant and said, "I just had to come talk to you.  I told my friends, 'Look, there's someone like me!"  She asked me if I got my treatments at SCOA and where I was in the process...who my oncologist was, etc.  I liked how she said, 'There's someone like me.'....because I've felt that feeling before, too.   NOW, when I see other ladies who look like they may be in treatment, I don't feel fear...I feel comraderie.  A few minutes after she left, she came back in the restaurant beaming, and handed me a pillow she'd made to share with other patients.  It was adorable.  Thank you, Miriam!

It is a Sisterhood that I am in!  I like it.  But I want us all to be alright.  Each and every one of us.

Yesterday, September 6, 2011, I walked into SCOA to get some paperwork from one of my (now) friends that works there.  I be-bopped in, bald/peach fuzzy, pushing my girls in the double stroller, and gave Norma a big hug which she always returns generously.  We stood there talking and since it was closing time, most of the employees were on their way out the door from time to time.  I couldn't believe how many of them recognized me and the girls and stopped to speak.  It was like I was part of this family.  And I absolutely loved it and appreciated it.  What wonderful people. 

On my way out the door, a lady was sitting on the bench waiting for her ride.  She was about 20 years older than me and bald, too.  I looked at her with a big smile and said, with a knowing look that I've shared with several women, "I like your hair!"  She smiled back and said, "I like yours, too!"  We laughed. 

I took the girls to the car, changed their diapers, felt the cooler weather, and couldn't believe I could actually say that I was feeling good - physically.  But also, I felt like I had just left a reunion where my spirits were lifted.

And, guess what!  YOU have come so far, too!  So many of you have been on this journey with me, in many different and wonderful ways.  From scheduling your mammogram to bringing me food to sending encouraging cards to watching my girls so Charles and I could go on a date to listening to the 'side effect of the day' and rubbing my bald head!  Thank you for being here with me!

Hold on to your seats, because next, we'll be walking towards the light...of radiation.  :)