It gave me new strength I didn’t know I had. It gave me further faith in people. In my family and friends, and literally every single person in my life, who reached out to me in immeasurable ways, and who still do, every day. These people have shown me support and love too broad, too deep, too strong to explain with words.
It gave me new faith in myself. That I could still accomplish life. Have a wedding, run 5Ks, take care of a puppy, work and live, and have fun and enjoy myself every step of the way. That I could LIVE beyond breast cancer. That I still am. That I plan to continue to do so.
It took away my faith in my health. That I could get cancer AGAIN. In my 20s. It gave me the drive to improve my health. Exercise, eat better and pay attention to my body.
It gave me pain - physical. Every day a reminder of what I went through and what I still face. It took away, maybe temporarily and maybe indefinitely, some of my physical strength and abilities. Driving, stretching, sleeping, yawning, sneezing, shivering, opening doors and jars, and wearing a bag or purse haven’t been the same since my mastectomy. Yes, yawning. When I yawn I get spasms in my chest - a ripping, tearing feeling. Even though there’s nothing there. No expander, nothing. The breast cancer took that from me: my ability to move without pain. It gave me a constant reminder of what I’ve been through. It gave me physical pain.
And mentally. The emotional and mental pain I deal with of knowing I’m 27 and “not normal.” Passing right by the bra section at Target because I know I can’t buy a normal bra. I have to get my bras at a special boutique - one where they have pockets for my prosthesis. Also knowing eventually I WILL be able to wear regular bras again, but before that comes months of different sizes of sports bras and bras without wiring as my expanders change in size. And definitely no underwire bras for the months that follow my implant surgery. It took that from me. The simpleness of feeling normal. No strapless tops or dresses, either. Or regular bathing suits.
The emotional and mental pain of knowing I won’t be able to breastfeed, or that my breasts won’t change in size if I ever become pregnant. Will I miss my breasts? No, not after this. But does it hurt knowing WHY I lost them? Yes.
It took my peace of mind. Every time I drink alcohol or eat soy or wear perfume I wonder if I am giving myself breast cancer. I read the ingredients of every shampoo and body lotion before I buy it. Perfume? I love it but limit it. Plastic water bottles? Are they OK? I can’t avoid every single food or product I think might be harmful, but it’s always on my mind. I’ve learned to live with it. Just like I’ve learned to live with wincing in pain every time I move my right arm a certain way. Just like I somehow have learned to live with the Li Fraumeni Syndrome. The fear of getting another, and another, and another cancer. I don’t know if it will happen, so why worry about it? Isn’t that living with it?
The breast cancer introduced me to many, many new feelings - physical, mental and emotional. Among those was a new type of fear and a new type of strength. As my show approaches next Tuesday, my anxiety has been heightening. I will be speaking, without notes, by myself, in front of an audience. I know I am honored to be a part of this. I know I want to tell my story and spread awareness. I know I want this. When I was diagnosed I knew, immediately, I wanted to do something. I wanted action. So I became involved. I am beyond thrilled for this opportunity. But of course, I’m scared. I’ve never been a strong public speaker. Yes, I can articulate my words pretty well, being a writer. But that’s on paper. On a computer. This will be live and raw. And with that comes fear. I know this is MY story I’ll be telling, and nobody knows my story better than me. I know the audience will come with open hearts and open minds, and nobody will be judging me. But the pressure is on to do this well. To be a strong storyteller. To be my strongest me.
However, one of the things I’ve learned so far throughout my breast cancer journey is that I am determined. If I want to do something, I do it. If I want to take on a new challenge, I make sure I do so. Just like running 5Ks, planning a wedding and “raising” a puppy, I look at next week’s event as a new challenge. Something I’ve never done before, but want to do. Something I will be proud of myself for doing. Something I will find rewarding and life-changing.
I know I can do this. It will just be a lot more pleasant if I’m not scared in the process. After all, if I can undergo a mastectomy, I can speak in public.
So what’s one more thing the breast cancer gave me? More opportunities to conquer more challenges.
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