My mind is still circling, trying to figure out the meaning and purpose of all this. Before I was the one with the crisis, I looked to politics to provide me with hope for change necessary to move forward in the world. I was passionate about the collective power of voters and the abilities of our elected officials to bring change to the world. Now... it seems that even politics can't fix things. At least not in a timely fashion for millions of people.
One of the things that I told myself at the beginning of my cancer journey was that I was not going to become one of those women who constantly wore pink and always screamed about breast cancer. I just wanted to move past my personal issue and return to my life. Pick up the pieces that I’d left behind and pretty much act like my life wasn’t any different.
The problem with that type of thinking was that I had no idea how much different my life would become. And by default, how different I would become. I blame some of the difference in myself on my age. I am 40 now. But I know that the biggest agent of change has been the cancer.
I hated the thought that there was something within me that didn’t belong. I hated the thought that the something might eventually kill me. But what I’ve come to hate more is knowing that there are others… always others… coming right behind me who will have to experience all the negatives and all the pain of this experience. I feel that my pain should have been sufficient. But it is not. There is always another sister or brother experiencing this painful journey.
So, I write this blog and I talk about breast cancer. A lot. To anyone who asks. Even if they don’t ask. And I think about breast cancer every moment of every day. It is too much even for me sometimes…but this has become my life.
As I walked into my office this morning, running late and feeling slightly rushed, I realized that although few people may really love what they do, a lot of people enjoy the satisfaction of productive work. What’s different for each person is which work they find joy and fulfillment in. My day job is a good one. But it doesn’t bring me that deep satisfying joy that writing does. This blog has opened up possibilities that I would not have imagined a year ago. And while it does not pay any bills (yet), I could see how just the work of it could continue to bring me deep joy for a long time.
That revelation led me to accept that despite what I thought initially, I was becoming one of those pink ribbon warrior women. I’m slowly starting to realize that all of those women (and men) keep fighting because there’s always someone who cannot. The Susan G. Komen Foundation was started because one sister was left behind to fight when the other sister lost her battle with breast cancer. Team Heather – which has raised over $250,000 for breast cancer awareness – was started when a brother lost his younger sister to breast cancer. And so forth. Some of us fight because we’re happy that we can fight. And some of us fight because someone we love cannot fight any longer.
I am fighting because right now, I am still here and able to do so. My aunt Vinnie Lee is not. I fight for her. My aunt Sarah Alice is here. And I fight for her. I fight for the mothers of my friends who are fighting this cancer and other cancers. I fight for the sista-girl friends who are fighting this cancer. I fight because… tomorrow is chemo day and I have to keep fighting to stay alive.
Hug somebody you love today. And fight for their right to live cancer-free too.
I read a quote recently that made me smile:
When asked if her breasts were fake, she replied… “Why yes they are. The other ones were trying to kill me.”
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