The Moral of the Story

Today I wrote an email to someone I haven't talked to in a really long time. I consider her a friend, but I just now told her the news. There are quite a few people I consider friends but don't talk to very often. For this group of friends, I've sort of been waiting to tell them about my breast cancer saga until they contact me to say hello. I hope they don't feel ambushed or neglected; it's just that I don't feel like contacting someone I haven't spoken to in a long time just to say, "Hello! How've you been? Oh me? Cancer!"

Anyway, this got me thinking about why I tell people I have cancer. I mean, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed about it or anything. And I don't think of it as a secret. It's more just... personal. I read a book called "I Am Not My Breast Cancer," (and by "read," I mean flipped through-- it was a downer...) and some of the survivors said they hardly told anyone about their cancer. Some kept it just to their families, some told a few people at work. I don't think I could do that. Especially because I would have to lie about certain things and wear a wig. Like when friends ask how Winter Park is. I guess I could just say I moved and leave it at that. Hm. But I didn't want to leave Winter Park.

I tell people because I think they care and they'd want to know. And I think having more friends thinking about me and praying for me can't hurt. But a really important reason I tell people, and I don't think I've emphasized this much, is that I think every woman needs to know that breast cancer is something that can and does happen, even to really healthy women, even to really young women, even to me. The new statistic is that 1 in every 8 women will have breast cancer in her life. That's a pretty high number. I guess I haven't gotten on my soapbox to tell my friends this important message; I thought they'd deduce for themselves that if I can end up with breast cancer, they, too, could develop breast cancer. It's very unlikely, thank goodness, but I want every single one of you women out there to be aware of the chance. I want to make sure all of you are taking good care of yourselves!

So get to know your boobs, girls! I will openly admit that every time I went for my yearly exam at the gynecologist's office, she would ask if I performed monthly self exams. And I didn't. I always thought I should, but never really got down to doing it every month. It just didn't seem that important. And I don't know if I would have caught this earlier if I did perform monthly self exams, but I wonder. It's not that you'll be looking for a lump, but it's really important to know what's going on in there so you can notice changes.

Sometimes I wish that having cancer was like the chicken pox-- you can only get it once and then you're good for life. But I know it's not that way, almost the opposite. I just don't want to live my life scared of getting cancer again. I also wish the "1 in 8 women" statistic meant that 7 of my friends would be spared. I would bear this burden more happily if it meant I could keep 7 of my friends breast cancer free!

It's funny-- every time I tell someone new about my breast cancer situation, it's like I'm re-living the whole scenario. Not in a bad way, I just feel like I can't believe it. It's so unreal to me still sometimes. I have cancer? I have breast cancer? Whoa. No wait, really? REALLY? I can't believe that the story went the way it did. I was afraid that my lumps could be cancer, but somehow, looking back, I keep seeing all these times where it could have just been nothing. Like if my ultrasound showed cysts instead of tumors. Or if my biopsy came back negative. Or if somehow my sample got mixed up with someone else's.

It just goes to show us all that breast cancer does not discriminate. I still wonder why this is happening to me; why do I have cancer? I'm glad my genetic test was negative, but a positive result would have at least explained why I have breast cancer at age 25. Oh well.

Anyway, as far as my day-to-day goes, I've had a really good week this week. I dragged myself out of bed to meet my parents for breakfast (They go out to breakfast every morning. I kid you not.) on Thursday and Friday, which are days I usually feel crappy. I normally sleep in on those days, but I found out, at least for this week, that if I get up, eat, and drink lots of fluids, I feel fine for the rest of the day. Looking back, I didn't take a single nap this week. And I felt pretty good for the most part. Wahoo! I'll have to try the same thing next week to see if this routine works.

Did I tell you my head makes me look like a baby bird? My hair is thin and sparse, like baby bird feathers. I'll post a picture soon (maybe) but I think it looks really ugly and gross. Hats hats hats! And my head itches a lot. What's that about?

Also important to note is that last Tuesday was Chemo 6. That's right, folks, 6 out of 12 Taxol treatments are done! The halfway mark of my Taxol treatments was celebrated with a nice Italian dinner with my sister and parents at Canino's... with chocolate cheesecake... yum! I think it's safe to say I'm about one third done with treatment. It's a little less than that, but it sounds good. I'm trying to plan a trip to California to visit some friends, but we'll see how that goes. It would be really nice to have a trip to look forward to, and to pass some time in sunny (or cloudy) California.

And even more importantly, my birthday is one month from today! Wahoo! I'm a huge birthday person; I love that there's a day devoted to the celebration of my birth. I thought 25 was the most awesome year of my life, but that only lasted for maybe 3 months. It got considerable less cool when I was diagnosed with cancer. And I wish I didn't have to start year 26 with cancer, but there's no way around it so I'll deal. 26: The Beginning of the Decline of My Twenties. Yipes. But I think this year will bring big things. I'm sure of it. I'm excited!