Persistence
roared loudly to this;
A pivot point – to live or die?
you ask yourself, as if you have the power
to decide.
March 1, 2020
Seven years.
Moments of that day are etched
in my skin,
like an invisible tattoo.
When what you know
in the microscopic, deeply hidden cells,
is spoken
aloud
and in those words your universe is
unforgivably altered.
The preceding weeks of pain and denial
roared loudly to this;
A pivot point - to live or die?
you ask yourself, as if you have the power
to decide.
A cancer diagnosis teaches you things
you didn’t ask to learn.
Like how much you want
to live,
for whom, and
what the real price is.
Still paying that debt today
Trying
to make this second life
a worthy,
exciting,
love-filled journey.
The background:
In some of the years since my March 1, 2013 breast cancer diagnosis, I’ve written notes to myself and friends on that date or the day after, when I could get a few thoughts together. The messages have gotten more real, with deeper truth, the further I get away from that date. In the beginning, I felt like I needed to say something uplifting for myself and others; that those around me wouldn’t want to hear the truth of what I was going through, couldn’t handle it, or that they simply wouldn’t care. Below are some of those notes with pictures from the day.
March 1, 2019
Six years since diagnosis. Whew… And wow. In many ways it feels like yesterday, and in others, a completely remote lifetime ago.
I’m still here to have the human experience — which to me now means fully feeling and going through (not around or avoiding) what is really happening in my life. And facing things head-on, with as much grace and courage as I can muster. To be ok with my imperfect body and self.
Someone recently asked me about my “fight” with cancer.
I did not fight cancer.
The words fight and battle and other violent images still make me cringe… Though I understand it is the language that permeates our society’s relationship with health crises.
Going through treatments and trying to figure out how to heal was an exercise in radical acceptance.
I spent many hours a day realizing what a great life I had, even though it had been fraught with abuse, alcoholism, fear, anger, chaos, and pain. I learned to accept and feel love during that time like never before — unconditional, gracious, pure love. And I allowed myself to love and forgive.
In that year of cancer treatments, I said I love you in gratitude and as an act of closure. The thing I couldn’t admit out loud was that I’d been given a year to live. So I loved like never before, breaking my heart wide open and taking risks I’d avoided so deftly before. It wasn’t easy because I was also confused, angry, and so sick I couldn’t tolerate noise, light, scents, and other things that made no sense to me. I worried that all the people I loved would not love me back, as evidenced (in my mind) of some people only connecting virtually and not actually talking to me or being with me when I was so afraid of being alone, of dying alone.
I still tell as many people as I can in a day that I love them. Or at least to show it in some way, if for some reason the words can’t be said.
March 2, 2018:
Yesterday marked 5 years since my cancer diagnosis. It was a terribly difficult day. The emotions surrounding it surprised me.
I thought I should feel happy and grateful for being alive. But for some reason the full awareness of what the treatments put me and my family through sunk in and marinated in my body all day and night.
The fears resurfaced. I don’t think I’ve come close to living the life I promised myself when I survived; and I didn’t have high expectations.
I observe and judge people in my life for spending so much time and energy on things that don’t matter in the end. Because I’ve seen the end and I know! Right… but I only know for me, not for others.
I believe We are infinite. This life is not. These bodies are temporary and built to fail. I believe our existence is a miracle with all the biology and science considered in how we exist on this planet and our dependency on the exact right formulas that make air and water and food.
In my attempt to process all this, I walked more than 7 miles, along the creek in town for a meeting and later trekked up a canyon trail with a dear friend. I perused the “Pink Progression” art exhibit at the library and experienced creativity that made me cry.
In these places I found beauty.
In conversations with friends, I found comfort and love.
I am grateful for their gifts of time and understanding. I believe the thing that ultimately matters is love, in any and every form in which love manifests itself in our lives.
Please, be a source of kindness and love in this world.
March 1, 2016:
On this date three years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. The amazing life I have today is a result of hard work, luck, love, and a few miracles.
Be someone’s miracle today — smile, share, forgive, laugh, hug, and love with all your heart. ❤️
March 1, 2015:
Two years ago today, the dreaded cancer diagnosis… Happy to be alive and grateful for every moment living it 😄!
March 1, 2014:
365 days ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer. #%*^ you, cancer. I’m still here.