1 Year Ago...

Nan54

One year ago this week I got the call that I had been waiting for like I have never waited for anything before in my 37 years of life…  I had only really been waiting for 2 days (3 days if you count the day that my OB/GYN felt ‘something’ in my breast during a routine annual exam and sent me for a diagnostic mammogram).  But, it truly seemed like an eternity…

I will never forget seeing the number come up on my caller ID on my cell phone - the phone that I never put down in those 2 days as I waited for biopsy results.  I remember the numbers on the caller ID blurring as my eyes filled with tears again for what seemed like the millionth time since that exam (a big deal for a girl who always said “I’m just not a crier”).  I remember how my hands shook as I fumbled to answer.  I remember desperately trying to read the pathologist’s tone as she introduced herself – was she getting ready to give me good news or awful news?  I remember hearing my young children laughing outside of the door to my bedroom that I closed for this conversation and saying a silent prayer for the chance to keep hearing that sound for a long time…

I remember her saying how sorry she was to have to tell me that they found cancer cells in my biopsy.  I remember an instant sheer devastation so deep that it literally took my breath away.  How could this be happening?!  I felt great, I felt healthy.  The women in my family lived into their late 80’s or 90’s.  I already knew that my paternal grandmother had breast cancer in her 70’s (and we would be celebrating her 90^th birthday soon), but – other than that – no cancer of any kind.  How could this be happening to me now?!

And the next few days and months are somewhat of a blur…  More tests – MRI, CT scan, bone scan, what seemed like more trips to doctors and hospitals in those 2 weeks than in the rest of my life combined.  Surgery and more waiting.  Genetic testing and more waiting.  Oncotype DX testing and still more waiting.  Fear so paralyzing that it still surprises me that I didn’t curl up in a ball and refuse to do any of it.

Finally some positive news from the pathology that the cancer was relatively small and contained, the lymph nodes were clear (although, honestly, I was still holding out hope that they would just tell me then that it was all a big mistake!). More positive news from genetic testing.  More positive news from Oncotype testing.  A big crash course on all things breast cancer and then the agonizing decisions about treatment. I also remember some feelings of guilt – I must have not eaten enough vegetables, I didn’t exercise enough, maybe I drank too much wine?!

I also remember some very specific moments with the ones closest to my heart during that time…  I remember the distinct fear in the voice of my best friend since childhood, her voice cracking as she told me she was hitting her knees in prayer.  I will never forget the sob I heard from my mom (who tried so hard to put on a brave face when we were waiting for surgery) as they wheeled me towards the OR.  I distinctly remember looking at my dad as they wheeled me away and being confused about the look on his face – it was a look that I had never seen from him before. I realized later that it was pure fear.  I also remember the countless hours on the phone with my mom – the one person who gratefully never tired of me talking about my breast cancer shadow (talking through it is what saved what was left of my sanity).  And I remember that, even at 37, my dad promising me that things would turn out ok still made the monster under the bed less scary…

I remember so well the intensity with which my husband held my hand and hugged and kissed me during those weeks and months.  The innumerable times he assured me that he “just knew” that everything would be ok, that we would grow old together as we had always planned, that I would see our children grow up.  I remember wondering how he could be so sure, but being so grateful for his strength in waiting room after waiting room.  I remember the peace that I felt when it occurred to me that my children would still have him, even if they had to lose me.  And I remember being more sure than ever that I had chosen to spend my life with the right person.

I remember trying so hard to be normal for my babies and how heart-breaking it was to imagine my time with them cut short.  I watched them sleep, I held on extra long when I hugged them, I prayed constantly for the privilege to raise them.  I fell apart (and still do) any time the thought crossed my mind that perhaps this is something that I passed onto them genetically and that they might one day have to face this fear too.

A year has passed – infection, a failed reconstruction, 2 more surgeries, more tests and anxiety, 12 shots with a huge needle to shut down my ovaries, the associated joys of instant menopause, and many sleepless nights full of recurring nightmares.  But, I have managed to get through this year!  And life definitely feels more "normal" again.

And it has also been another year of memories with my children.  Another year of loving my husband.  Another year of being my parents’ daughter.  A year of friendships strengthened and made.

I won’t say that any of it was a gift or a blessing in disguise – nothing could be further from the truth.  It was and continues to be the most awful thing I have ever experienced.  And my heart hurts every day for the women who have walked this path before me, and those who will have to walk it after me.  I still feel the fear and I am not sure that it will ever go away because I now know just how unpredictable this disease can be.

But, I also count my blessings more often than ever before.  I am slower to get angry, quicker to forgive.  I am more gentle with myself and with those that I love.  I consciously remove stress from my life more than I ever have before.  I drink less, I eat better, I exercise more.  I cry more freely (definitely “a crier” now!) and laugh more often.  I have many moments of reflection in my head when I feel grateful and blessed for so many things in my life. And I have realized that I didn't do anything (or not do something) to get cancer.  It just happened.

I write this to try to give some hope to others just starting out on this path – even just a year from now things will look different (hopefully better).  And each day I hope that it’s a good day for scientists and researchers, that a cure is closer, that someday soon no one else has to lose someone they love to this disease.  It just needs to happen.

dancingdiva

Your post is touching. I'm glad things worked out. SO many things you wrote are things I am going through. Thanks for posting it.

tangandchris

nan-what a beautiful post!! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings.

farmerlucy

Beautifully written Nan. It's like you were right there with me two years ago. Thank you for taking the time to post this. 

SweetMaggie

Hi Nan, I'm fairly new to these discussion boards having been recently diagnosed and facing a mastectomy on Wednesday.  But reading your post brought tears to my eyes, but not of dispair, but of hope.  And of reality, that after my surgery, it isn't all up hill from there, but a journey with ups and downs.  But that I will get to the other side, and know I will be thinking all of those surreal things you just spoke of.  And I know I can't just hurry it up.  I think your post will help many of us that are at all different phases of this really tough process, and help us know we will get through to the other side.  Thank you. 

bluepearl

Boy, are you right on with the emotional roller coaster!!!!! Been there twice, although the second time around didn't seem as devastating. Oddly. But the fear. Always there but the times between these fear-episodes gets longer as time goes by. I found worrying about the first cancer didn't stop the second from happening, so why worry. You do the best you can and go from there. Beautiful words Nan.

Juliecc

Beautifully written and it so similar to what I'm going through.  I'm just a couple months out and life is pretty good.  

Moderators

Nan, thank you for sharing your experiences of this past year, your celebration of your life today, and your hopes for the future. 

• The Mods

trish01254

That was one of the best posts I have read on here.  Brought on the tears.  Best wishes Nan.

ChaosRains

this was amazing! Im definitely a crier now too... crying as i type

Betty14

Dear Nan,

                     your story  made my eyes well up with tears...empathic tears. What a wonderful post for us to reflect on...it really embraces the journey. By now you must realise you have a gift for writing and I thank you for sharing it with us.

 

Alive4Five

Well Nan... Touching and deeply realistic. So much truth like my own.

Truth be told...I am One Year out, this past week also. 05/28/13

So a very striking cord hits home for me too!... But hey, we did it! (((hugs)))

Thank You...

RandiLee

Nan,

That was an amazing post.  I'm 9 years out and going strong.  I have not had any scans since 2011, the scans showed i was still clean.  I plan on having scans this year just to ease my mind. 

Thanks for the post.

 

Randi-Lee

2005 dx idc stage 2 er/pr + her2neu +

4 weeks chemo

12 weeks taxol and herceptin

1 year herceptin only

33 Rads

someone_in_nj

Nan, your post made me cry my heart out.  I hope everything is going well with you and your family. 

lots of hugs

Maureen1

(((Nan54))) beautifully written post, thank you for sharing it with us...I hope you hear the sound of your children's laughter for many years to come and you and your husband are still holding hands into your 90's (((Hugs)))

maltomlin

A lovely post Nan.............I'm 6 years out and those feelings were just the same..............x