A few, short weeks ago I was thinking about the spring, creating garden spaces outside my new home and having lots of hiking adventures with my dogs and friends. There would be Pilates classes, a few glasses of wine and time spent watching the boats glide out to sea from the back deck. I was thinking about how many more years I would work, what I could do to free up more personal time and how much I liked my work as a nurse case manager, seeing patients in their homes and helping them with their health struggles. Life was good. Then, it wasn’t.
Arlene: Hey, body, I give you kale, organic berries and Pilates. We hike the hills, swim in the ocean, gallop through fields and still shake it down with the best of them. We were a team until now. Feeling a little betrayed here.
Arlene’s body: Hey Arlene, We have the resting heart rate of an elite athlete, perfect blood pressure and the ability to leap very short buildings (Lego buildings) in a single bound. Doing my best here…
Arlene’s cancer: Please allow me to introduce myself…
Getting that initial cancer diagnosis sucks the life force out of you, leaving you empty and numb. The radiologist says what it looks like and her detached, matter-of-fact words, spoken with a thick Russian accent, slide around me but they don’t penetrate the armor of disbelief. Then, I trudge home and the feelings transition as the reality sinks in. I summon up the courage to keep all my appointments—even the ones I know will hurt– and battle back the tears and the fear. I tell family and close friends. Like the two-headed snakes on the medical symbol Caduceus, my fear and my courage grow and intertwine, battling for my energy and focus.
As pretty much a life-long vegetarian leading a fit, active life, I thought I was the last person who would ever face a diagnosis of breast cancer. Yet here I am. And I am pretty sure most everyone who gets this feels the same. No one thinks she will be that one-in-eight women who get the disease. Yet here we all are…
I am thinking this is going to be a miserable, but pivotal chapter in my life story and not how my story will end. No damn way! There are life changes afoot–still some happy ever after to come and maybe some riding into the sunset. First, though, I have to slay the dragon and there is more than one. I have the estrogen seeking in situ type of cancer that wants to hang out in my breast and slurp up the estrogen. They have made their appearance as a malignant constellation of micro calcifications. I also have the HER+ type that cares nothing for hanging out at home. It appears in the form of a very tiny tumor in the breast and wants to take over the universe of my body. I think of it as the Putin of tumors, greedy and calculating. It has established camp in my lymph nodes and is making plans. This is where my surgeon comes in. She is brilliant, compassionate and highly skilled. She will have a pivotal role in this dragon slaying business, wielding her scalpel as a sword. Out, damn cancer! Sorry, breast, it’s been great. She called me Friday with a cancellation and early opportunity to get this done on Thursday. I immediately agreed. Radical mastectomy, here I come…
Feel free to join me as I embark on a journey no one wants to take but many do. I have every intention of concluding that strange and awful trip as a survivor, better and wiser and stronger for the experience.