Sunday, October 6, 2013

The pink ribbon and the silver lining

This month is quite monumental for me.  Perhaps if Facebook had existed in 2003 it would have been listed as a life event on my timeline.  Well actually – now that I think about it, probably not being that it took me several years before I began publicly telling my story.  I’m still trying to analyze why I didn’t speak of it for the first few years. 

This post is dedicated to all those that have been a victim of breast cancer.  Whether it was you that had it, or a loved one in which you suffered alongside.  We have made so many advancements with this disease, yet it still causes children to be left without mothers (and even mothers being left without daughters) and spouses, sisters, brothers, grandchildren, nieces and nephews wishing they had more time to spend with their loved one.  I think what makes me most angry with breast cancer is that everyone is a potential victim of it – it’s an equal opportunity cancer.  We just don’t know what causes it or who exactly will fall victim to it.  

It was October 2003 when I received the news that I had invasive breast cancer.   Coincidentally, it was  breast cancer awareness month.  I am so happy and relieved to be hitting the 10-year mark this month!  I only wish more women could join me in saying that.  You can read more about my story here and here.  Today I simply want to pay homage to all the victims of this terrible disease.  If you currently have or had breast cancer, I hope you found or soon find the silver lining in it all.  I know I certainly did. 

I knew the day my husband and I were driving home after my biopsy that my life was probably going to be forever changed.  I had a feeling the lump was cancerous because I point-blank pleaded with the radiologist to tell me what she thought of the biopsy, being that she sees them every day.  Her response – “It worries me.”  I actually appreciated her telling me that because when the phone call came the next day I was actually a little more prepared (if that's even possible) when I heard the diagnosis.  But even without her “It worries me” comment, I knew it wasn’t a normal lump.  I just knew…  

But it was the cathartic experience my husband and I had driving home after the biopsy when I knew that we were both going to be OKAY.  We drove the scenic way home from San Antonio, the back roads from Boerne to Sisterdale with a little jot around Luckenbach.  As we were passing a farm a few miles before the gate to our farm, I saw something that looked a little odd in the pasture just on the other side of the fence off the shoulder of the road.  I quickly shouted to my husband to pull over.  We got out of the car and it was there that we stood on the side of that hill country road, holding hands while watching a sheep give birth to a precious baby lamb.  We couldn’t believe that we were driving by just as this moment was happening.  We didn’t talk at all, both choking away our tears as we watched this beautiful life unfold. 

It was a precious sign of life and the beginning of a new normal. 

If you currently have breast cancer, or if you happen to be diagnosed in the future, I pray that you, too, find your new normal to actually be a time of wonderful reflection of how great your life is – and will be. 

1 comment:

Greyeyes said...

Deb, You certainly have the finest collection of hats of anyone i know. I am ever thankful for friends like you. Here's to the years yet to come. DD