Well, next week is my mastectomy and I’m ready – emotionally, anyway. I still need to double check supplies and be sure I have everything that has been recommended to me, but at this point I’m just anxious to be on the other side of this surgery. All while fully aware that there is at least one more surgery awaiting me this fall to place the implants, and possibly another after that to fine tune the reconstruction.
My new book THE LUCKIEST IS AVAILABLE FOR PRE-SALE!!! Thank you to everyone who has already pre-ordered - the book jumped up over six million spots on the Amazon charts alone - like woah. Writing it wrecked me in ways I had not anticipated. Wounds I thought had long since healed were actually just buried under layers of pain, joy, and life. To the extent that my therapist asked me if I thought the increase in my anxiety might have to do with writing this book.
A few months ago Miguel got an offer to do a corporate gig in St. Kitts/Nevis and he said, “hell yes”. Then we realized I was going to need a mastectomy, and I said, “hell yes, I’m coming with you!” We are currently on - what I am referring to as - a “boobymoon”. Think honeymoon or babymoon, but instead of celebrating a marriage or a baby we are celebrating and honoring the end of my natural boobs.
When I was discussing treatment options with my surgeon for the original tumor, I figured I was for sure winning at cancer because I made her laugh when I told her I wasn’t attached to my breasts, “well, physically I am obviously, but not emotionally.” Essentially saying if you need to take them, so be it. But that was when it was my choice.
From the very beginning of my breast cancer journey, I was impressed with how quickly everything moved forward. I was able to get appointments with doctors within weeks of my positive biopsy. And then when I met with the doctors, they were able to tell me the type of cancer, how fast it was growing, how large it was, and whether it would be responsive to hormone therapy. All from a biopsy and some imaging.
Miguel’s first gift to me on this birthday was writing this week’s blog. Thanks, babe. I love you.
Today is Kelly's birthday. She is 40ish years old. On the outside I still see the twenty something that I met in 2006 under questionable circumstances. Maybe I had a girlfriend at the time. It was so long ago it's hard to remember.
I take a lot of pride in my strength even if it is not strength that I ever wanted to earn. I did earn it and it is mine. Which is why I think that this last week has been so hard. Because for the first time in a long time I have felt vulnerable, I have felt weak, I have not felt like myself – physically or emotionally.
In January, after a routine mammogram and ultra-sound (because dense breast club), the radiologist recommended I get a lump in each breast biopsied. Three weeks later, one turned out to be a large benign cyst. The other was cancer.
This week I’m pivoting from my normal blog style to provide an update on US government funded medical research. With so many eye-catching headlines, there hasn’t been a lot of attention paid to this corner of the government recently – but you should know what’s happening here.
Every five years or so my life has undergone a major life refocusing and it would appear that I am in the midst of one again. And it awkward and uncomfortable and I’m not quite sure what I am supposed to do next.
I am trying to stay informed but not be overwhelmed. To acknowledge the chaos but not succumb to it. To bear witness to the devastation but not let it depress me. And let me tell you, it is hard fucking work. Who knew it would take a global upheaval for me to finally start practicing mindfulness?
If you all are anything like me, you could use a little pick me up right about now. My gift to you this week is a sweet story that comes with the reminder that for some godforsaken reason we have to have darkness before light.
