It began as dramas often do; with a phone call from the Dr. “Yes, it is cancer”

So began a year of incredible changes, to borrow a phrase from Queen Elizabeth my medical “annus horribilis”. Make no mistake, life during cancer treatment was not fun and games. But I chose humor during those difficult times to make others more comfortable around me. Now 3 years later I have written this letter.

Dear Cancer,

This letter is very overdue. You showed up at my house 3 years ago and I still have not shared my thoughts with you so here goes… I did not really know about you before you barged into my life. In fact, you were the furthest thought from my mind. I ate relatively healthily, was not overweight, did not smoked or drink, had breastfed three children. I did not have time for you and your baggage. I was lucky to have found time for my mammogram.

Despite the protest, you came in anyways. I received the news at work. My Dr called my cell to tell me that you had arrived. I was in shock and was scared. I needed to tell someone. My sister-in-law arrived at my office. We were both crying, but she said I needed to fight. Thousands of women had seen you before and beaten you. She assured me I would too. In fact, she said we will fight as a family.

The problem was, I was not a fighter. Now, what was I going to do? I was tired, exhausted, how I was going to handle this. I hated you and everything you stood for.

They said you were invasive. They were not kidding. You infiltrated my whole life. I was deathly afraid of you and your potential. You had the power to destroy. My active imagination had you demolish everything around me. I was sure you would destroy every relationship I knew. How were my kids going to deal with this? What about my husband? What about my friends? How could I be a good friend, mother, wife, or daughter, I was broken? What about my bills, my job, my breasts, my hair, my life? Suddenly everything became fragile. I cried myself to sleep more nights than not.

I became obsessed with a 3mm tumor. You left your mark on everything I did.  Your intrusion was overwhelming; I was afraid and could not escape. I could feel your presence in everything I did. Like a bad houseguest, you left my life in a mess.

The clean-up was awful. Chemo, reconstructive surgery, radiation, swollen feet, mouth ulcers. That was just the beginning. Your fingerprints were everywhere. The more I realized this more I tried to erase you. I read books, I dwelled on you. I even went to counseling, to try to forget you. I just wanted my life to be put back together again.

No matter how I tried my life just did not look the same as before. Somewhere along the way things changed.

With all the frustration, I had missed the gifts you brought. I was so wrapped up with the agony you delivered that I missed the blessings right before my eyes. They surrounded me. These were not the gifts you find on Christmas morning or on your birthday.

These were different; they had value that could not be measured. They were treasures. As I uncovered them one by one, I became less resentful of your intrusion. I realized that I had been blessed by your bittersweet appearance.

Some blessings are obvious. We know they are there, but it is not until we are forced to look deeper that we realize how precious they are. My kids all surprised me one way or another during this journey. They say men married to women with breast cancer can rise to the occasion, developing nurturing skills no one knew they had. They become super husbands. This happened in our house. My husband became a nurse, chauffeur, patient listener, grocery shopper, cook, etc. He listened and talked me through all the treatments and all my fears. His patience grew in leaps and bounds. 3 kids watched this happen in front of their eyes. Dad took care of Mom, no questions asked; he took care of them and between him and my daughter the house. My Mom, what a special lady. She is the prayer powerhouse of the family, and I am sure she spent most hours of her day debating with our Lord as to why I need to be healed.

Friends and Family became more important than ever during this challenging journey. My best friend Bridgit, listened to me cry, laughed with me, and supported my every emotion in between. Other friends called or SMS’d me to let me know they were there.

For my part, I cut back at work, took a loss in salary, and focused on realigning my priorities. Work was just working. The family came first. I learned to say “NO”.

I had never doubted that I had the greatest friends and family in the world. But going through this experience truly reinforced it. It did not take me long to realize that you chose to visit me for a reason.

Although I cannot explain it, I knew that my search for understanding led me to seek more spiritual guidance. I have always believed in God. And in the Holy Spirit that resides in all of us, and that feeling of calm that comes when you turn yourself over to the unfolding events with the trust and faith in a positive outcome. Attitudes of thankfulness and gratitude have been shown to boost our immune system. When we feel positive our body’s ability to release immune-stimulating endorphins is enhanced. Do I think that a positive attitude alone can keep me cancer-free? No! But it makes life more enjoyable for me and those around me and it enables my body to help heal itself.

The gift that is least tangible, but probably the most life-changing is my outlook on life. Until I was faced with my own mortality, I did not appreciate things like I do now. My family, my friends, my religion, and all the relationships I was so afraid of losing have only grown stronger. I treasure things I did not treasure before. I was overdue for an attitude adjustment. I was very quick to judge… Sadly, I learned that anyone can get the shock of one’s life. Once you experience that, you can despair and stay bitter or, get over it and get better. People sometimes tell me “you are so brave, so courageous.” Believe me, I am not. To me, true courage is a firefighter who enters a burning building on the verge of collapse or a police officer who comes between a bullet and an innocent bystander. I wanted to be a survivor and was determined to do whatever it took to stay alive. Most of you would have made the same decision.

So, cancer, in closing. I want to thank you for all you did for me. You helped me be a better person. I will continue to create Cancer awareness and do whatever else it takes to keep you away from my friends and family. But you most definitely changed my life and for that, I will count my Blessings!