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I have spent seven years wondering if cancer broke my gut instinct. With every ache or pain, or thought of a long-term life dream, I would consider recurrence. What if it comes back?
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No one prepared me for the anxiety and depression that would come with finishing the medical side of this journey. Even before reconstruction, I started becoming obsessive about things. Everything felt beyond my control. My husband would ask if I wanted to invite such and such over to watch football tonight. NOPE. That would be very stressful, what would we feed them, what would I wear, would I be able to act normal? Plus it would take effort and I just didn’t feel like it. Some days I just wanted to mope.
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Luke has carried me through cancer and recovery all while managing his own busy life and career. I can confidently say, cancer picked the wrong duo to f*ck with. WE kicked its ass. Luke survived it and continues to survive it just as much as I did and do. He’s my cosurvivor. This year was supposed to be whimsical and adventurous and turns out, it’s been exactly that. It’s all about perspective and I am so thankful that Luke has helped me keep mine.
Today is his birthday so please join me in shouting from the rooftops how glad we are that he was born. I love you, Luke Payne. I am so thankful to be yours.
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The most commonly misunderstood piece of my whole journey has definitely been breast reconstruction. Everyone can clearly understand cutting out the cancer. What happens next is very mysterious. Kudos to those of you who feel comfortable asking just what exactly is going on with me now. When everyone else’s heads swivel around to hear my answer, it’s helped me to recognize how little people know about this process and how helpful it might be if I detailed it here. Stick with me though, it’s not a short process to explain.
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Four months ago today, on April 1, my mom, Luke and I walked into Rex Breast Care Specialists for our first meeting. It was the day I was officially diagnosed with breast cancer. At that meeting we plotted a course of action that included a lumpectomy followed by six weeks of radiation and five years on a drug called Tamoxifen. Suffice it to say, it was the least funny April Fool’s Day ever.
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I started jogging again with tears running down my face. It was such a moment for me as her voice kept blaring into my ears. “I run for hope, I run to feel…” I didn’t care that I was starting to feel sore from Thursday’s expansion. I was running to FEEL. I felt so alive.
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“How did you find it?”
“Was there a lump?”
“Do you have a family history?”
I have been peppered with questions like these since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Even the radiology teams and nursing folks all want to know, “You’re so young, how did you even have a mammogram?” or “How did you get here?” Especially because, to the surprise of many, there was no lump.
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The surgeons and medical sites offer such vague accounts and there are not many detailed, personal stories out there. Soooo, with that in mind… today marks three weeks since I was released from the hospital after my surgery and it seems as though this milestone has ushered in a pretty hefty speed bump. I am struggling.
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In the last week, I have gone from being a single woman with breast cancer to a married woman that is officially cancer free! To say it has been the biggest week of my life would be an understatement.
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