Road to Enlightment

The morning after my diagnosis I woke up and looked in the mirror. The first glance at my body which I thought I knew. We’re in this together. For better or worse. But I’m not sure I know you right now. And then I saw it. Written in in the prettiest cursive handwriting. “Yes.” 

 

“Yes” written on my breast with 3 lumps of cancer inside of it. Right then, right there I decided this is my ride. And I will do it with lots of swears and even more positivity.

 

Yes. I. will.

 

Step 1.) get breast cancer

Step 2.) not sure yet 

 

My first thought after hearing that I was a 36 year old mom with an 8 year old daughter, a 4 year old son and a wife to a disabled husband who had recently been diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer was shit. Shit fuck shit. 

 

“Hey guys can you come in here a second?” 

We had recently started family meetings around the dinner table which would consist of thoughts that had been bothering us or things that we wished to discuss as an entire family. They usually always turned out wonderfully. Filled with laughter and stories that the kids weren’t aware were a part of our personalities prior to their existence.  It’s funny how that happens. You automatically think, of course my kids know who I WAS before they were born. I mean, am I really all that different than before having children? Yes. The answer is yes.

 

So for this particular family meeting I knew that the news about to be breeched was not going to be fun or up-lifting. It wasn’t silly. It was meant to be serious. And serious can suck.

 

“Hey guys? Come in here for a minute. Family meeting time.” The kid’s faces lit up. “Yay.” They say as they sit down. My heart sinks for a moment as I unleash the news. 

 

“Ya so this isn’t going to be the type of meeting that I love having but it’s necessary. And sometimes necessary kinda sucks right? When I went to the dr today they told me that I have breast cancer. I have a lump in my breast and the doctors need to figure out how they can give me medicine to make sure I stay healthy.”

 

Lilah, my 8 year old looks at me a little worried but also thought provoked. She raises her hand like she’s in the middle of an auditorium, takes a large inhale, closes her eyes and says, “This is going to be a bit off track but I’ve always wanted to know the answer, does your favorite ice cream flavor STAY your favorite or does it change as you get older?”

 

It was then that I knew, shit we got this.