I’m a bit late on writing this week’s post. It’s been a wild two months. I just looked at my calendar and realized that it was exactly two month ago today that I first heard the words “It’s cancer.” I’d gone in to my annual mammogram celebrating my life and honoring my mother’s. I came out with fear nipping at my edges when I first was told additional testing was needed. I cried and pushed the fears back, telling myself it was probably nothing, just like it had been in the past. But, on June 11th I had that followup, a diagnostic mammogram and biopsy. The results were so clear that even before the biopsy was tested the doctor was able to tell me “it’s cancer.” I’d become too close to my mom in this year of celebration and memory as I would pass the age she died at. It was like entering a dream world, not quite believing that it was real, and waiting to wake up again.

On July 8th, the day after the anniversary of our mother’s death, my sisters and I met with my surgeon and genetic counselor. I will be forever thankful for my sisters being there at my side. While that initial cloud that had me in a complete emotional and mental fog had lifted slightly, nothing was quite clear yet. I could nod and maybe ask a few questions, but nothing was sticking in my brain and my heart was all I could carry. I left that day knowing that surgery would be coming and some treatment of some sort would likely follow. That was really all I knew.

On July 27th, Mom’s birthday, I had that surgery. I’d opted for a single mastectomy. I would become a unicorn, an Amazon, or what some would call a uniboober though I’d rather not. It seemed I was becoming my mom. I went into that surgery hold her and my grandmothers close. I could almost see them. I could feel them around me, holding me close, reminding me of the strong line of women that I come from, and telling me that I too am strong.

It’s been just over two weeks now since my mastectomy and life goes up and down. While I did have the medical staff watching my low heart rate and blood pressure closely, my healing is going well. My pain is very minimal compared to many. I’ve been able to regain my range of motion and to walk many miles. In fact, on Saturday, I walked a 5k race. I’d signed up for the race before my diagnosis and it felt so important for me to complete. I wanted to know that I could do it. I had to do it to show myself that I am strong and that I can recover from this bump in life’s road. If I hadn’t done it, I would have let myself be beaten by cancer and that couldn’t happen. So, I walked and it was beautiful. I came in at 51 minutes and 50 seconds, right behind the winner of the half-marathon. I felt like a winner too. I’d proven to myself that I wouldn’t let cancer win.

So, I’ve been walking. I’ve been out on the pontoon boats. I’ve even ridden the bus! Yes, bus riding is a victory. Some of the drivers are great and others really want to operate a rollercoaster! Still, maybe looking in the mirror is my greatest victory. Some days I look and see my mother’s body and my reflection of that body and know that it’s okay. This is who I am and who I am is strong and worthy. Other days I look and wonder what happened, when will I wake up from this weird dream, who is this person I see, when will I be whole again?

Now, I am back in the land of waiting and wondering. Two weeks post surgery and I’m still waiting for my pathology report. I’m waiting to meet with my surgeon. I’m waiting to meet with my medical oncologist. I’m waiting to learn how much the cancer has impacted my body and what the course of action might be. It’s a lot of waiting and wondering.

Meanwhile, all I can do is take a walk. I stand by the lake each day sending my thanks out into the wind for the mere fact that I am and I thank her for the strength she gives me so that I might continue to be.

I share this story of my journey for all the others out there who have cancer in their lives so that we might hold each other in the light and help each other along the way.