What’s the rush? It’s only cancer

Please read Unbroken Home: the challenges of being a single parent first and then please come back.

It has been a while since I’ve written. Sadly, I’m divorced now and a single-parent.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I got here. There were the usual interpersonal dysfunctions but there were tell-tale behaviors I chose to ignore early on. That’s where I’m stuck. I’ve made some solid decisions that have propelled me from illness to survivorship and yet I failed to chose the perfect life-long friend and mate? how?!

It’s really simple. I let fear guide the most important decision I can make. I was rushing. Rushing to get married because I wanted to be married before I died; rushing to the altar because I wanted my dying grandfather to see me marry, which he didn’t as he passed a week before the wedding.

I know the school of thought that says there are no mistakes and everything is for a reason. We have a beautiful 19-month old baby girl and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But ignoring serious signs of trouble when you’re dating is just bad decision-making. Oh, yes, it was a decision! I didn’t want to die alone at any cost.

But now, I’m back at square one and breaking free from an abusive relationship (and mending a broken heart) has proven to be more mentally challenging than battling cancer. Taking time to heal, being grateful, being present, and practicing patience– lessons, it would appear, I’m learning by hook or by crook.

While searching for support, I was surprised at just how many survivor single moms and divorced ladies are out there. Moreover, those who have had multiple cancers and have several children to care for alone; G-D bless them!

On one hand this experience has made us strong but it also left some of us more vulnerable than before. Still, I have to give myself kudos for getting out of an abusive relationship before it completely wiped my identity and altered my daughter at the core.

Reading the essay Unbroken Home reaffirms that I am not alone in life or in parenting.

I hope you’ll slow down, too, and know that no matter what, you are not alone.

Irridescent snails, flying ninjas, and self-regenerating breasts

Cancer Dreams…

The night following my first chemo session I had a dream that a very slow iridescent red snail was slowly moving in space and everything in its path turned to love, beauty, and health. I have no idea what it meant but it was vivid, colorful, and empowering since I knew the snail represented an ally and possibly my own body cells.

The same night my next dream was of lightning-fast ninjas flying through the air thrashing their swords right and left – fighting hard! They were so swift and efficient. I sensed that my job was to stay asleep so they can get the job done. In the morning I was impressed with how physically powerful the dreams were and what a fight we put on!

I never had more powerful dreams as I did on the first night of chemotherapy.

Since my prophylactic mastectomy in 2005 (no breast reconstruction), at least a few times per year I dream about my non-existent breasts. I dream about them often whenever the decision whether to have a breast reconstruction is back on the table or if I had just seen a breast-oriented movie like Superbad, Knocked Up or various other guy movies. I dream that my breasts grew back, that the surgeons never took them off, that they left one breast, and even that they left a part of the breast with or without the nipple (it varies). In my dream I am so excited at the discovery of a breast that my first waking thought is “Yippee,” until I fully awake a few seconds later to have reality sink in. The funny thing is that I get disappointed each time to discover that I still have no breasts; sometimes it feels like I want it so badly that it should alter reality and the laws of physics and simply manifest!

Whenever I do appear in my dreams now, I still picture myself with my phantom breasts. They just never leave me; or maybe that’s just how we’re wired to think of ourselves –whole.

Kuddos to Save the Boobs

After the usual anger and jealousy I experience at women flaunting their boobs on television for the sake of giving men an erection (or at least getting them to tune to a show,) I paused to think whether this commercial actually had the intended effect. I’m speaking of course of Save the Boobs,  a promotional video for Boobyball and Rethink Breast Cancer (Rethink Breast Cancer,) a society that supports breast cancer research and awareness. The commercial depicts MTV personality Aliya-Jasmine Sovani, or rather, her bountiful girls, bouncing in slow motion around the pool.

The bottom line for breast cancer IS the bottom line. Right now it’s all about money. We need money to eradicate this disease or at least beat it to submission so it becomes as manageable as diabetes one day.

I’d like to know if Rethink Breast Cancer increased its traffic and donations since the commercial aired and, maybe more importantly, did it get any man to tell his sister/mom/girlfriend/wife/grandmother/best friend to have a breast exam?

With all the buzz around the commercial, the “awareness” part slipped by many of the viewers. As one female user on YouTube writes “how many people felt their boobs after this ad?! I did not.” She should have. Nevertheless, I hope others did.

Coming out of the cancer closet

Just kicked cancer butt, 2002. Move over Sinead O'Connor

In business school we learned that one dissatisfied customer meant they represented just the tip of the iceberg. Well, probably if I kept my cancer battle a secret or private (depending how you look at it) there must be others who are still “in the cancer closet” for, oh, so many reasons.

I had breast cancer at age 27 and 30. I only told my closest friends and family. My parents had a big influence in my life and said it was nobody’s business. After receiving a surprise call from a gossipy acquaintance inquiring “I saw you at the hospital, is everything okay?” that did it; I decided it was the best thing to keep my diagnosis private. I hated the idea of being a topic of gossip or receiving those head-to-tow scans by people searching for a hint of disease whenever they met me for the first time in a long time, for years to come.

When I was diagnosed at age 27, I had a lumpectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation, but I got to keep my breasts. Granted, the radiated breast shrunk a little, became leathery, and hard (edema);  I was very self conscious about it for the next three years.  I didn’t have a boyfriend when I was diagnosed and I didn’t date for three years after. I was diagnosed with a new breast cancer in the other breast at age 30. I wanted to live a long and healthy life and having a double prophylactic mastectomy was congruent with that goal. Well, I got lucky in the cancer context. After waiting for three and half weeks for biopsy results of my now finely dissected breasts, I miraculously got a clean bill of health– they had found the cancer at stage 0 (DCIS). I was grateful. I was elated – a weight had been lifted off my chest; the ticking time bombs had been disarmed; I had minimized my chances of getting breast cancer by 90%; I had done the most I can do to make breast cancer history for me! But, there was no way in hell now that I would come out of the closet, even though it was driving me crazy to keep it silent. I wanted the credit like all the other survivors; I wanted to be a young spokesperson and maybe save other women; young and beautiful, I could have doubled my fundraising  just by blowing their minds with “believe it or not, I’m a breast cancer survivor!” I could have even weeded out all the jerks who wouldn’t touch me for the knowledge that I had cancer and or have no breasts; but fear of being romantically rejected overrode all logic.

I’m married now, but still hesitant… If I reveal my diagnosis I feel like I am arming people; I use this verb on purpose because I could still get hurt: an untimely or crude joke about breast or lack thereof, and I may suffer a blow… Still, I came out slowly slowly. I told a person or two here and there, in context. I joined an all-female dragon boating team of mixed cancer caregivers and survivors (I feel it better reflects our battle with Cancer as a team effort, don’t you?) I recently shared my story in BEST HEALTH magazine encouraging cancer patients to try the awesome sport of dragon boating. I still have a ways to go; my father doesn’t even know I announced that I was a breast cancer survivor in a national magazine.

I spent seven years shielding myself in a protective cancer bubble when I could have done more to help out. I think the second breast cancer was a wake up call– not to the typical lose-weight/reduce-stress/exercise-more/stop-sweating-the-small-things kind of wake up call, but rather a call to help others.

me @ 60km Weekend to End Breast Cacner, 2008