Breast Cancer

Prayers

Prayers work wonders
Yet sometimes
They also make you wonder
Why sometimes
They are just not heard

My Journey From Chaos To Calm

Kintsukoroi – a Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold. They believe the repaired item is even more beautiful than the original, because of its imperfections. My cancer diagnosis shattered me into pieces, and I am only just sticking them back together, with gold.

I Left Her Behind

I left her behind.
It wasn’t my decision.
I miss her.
Not one day goes by that I don’t think of her.

I close my eyes and she’s there.
I think she’s imperfectly beautiful.
Easy on my eyes, if only in my eyes.

My Life. The Comet.

Before cancer, writing wasn’t something I enjoyed. It was a chore. Something I did at work or for school. Much like all things I dislike, I avoided it. Then, when I was at my lowest point, writing found me. Pushed me to pick it up, toss my feelings out, and move ahead. Finding community during treatment was intimidating for me.

My Medicine for My Medicines

Cannabis is commonly known by one of its aliases: Weed, Marijuana, Pot, Mary Jane, Ganja, Chronic, Loud, among many others. However, I like to refer to Reefer as my Plant Medicine.

To me, it is undeniable that cannabis is the most heroic plant on earth. I use it for its magnificent healing, analgesic, and anti-inflammatory properties. I love its perfume – a heavenly, aromatic bouquet, with slight, yet noticeable, variations between strains. It is my most treasured plant. 

What Was Not Unseen

When I saw this prompt I thought, “No problem. This will be easy!” Over time I found myself jotting things down. Like how I had absolutely no energy or motivation, how excruciating my pain can really be after a long day, or how the mere thought of breast cancer returning is like being trapped in a never-ending game of Russian roulette. I found myself writing about all the guilt I felt as a survivor. How sad my heart was to have had to put my daughter, husband, and immediate family through such a heartbreaking experience over the past seven years.

Life After Ringing the Bell

As I sit at my dining room table thinking to myself “the unseen challenges of survivorship. . .”, I am taken back to the time when I blogged about my cancer journey with a nice smelling candle lit, Dave Matthews playing in the background, and drinking hot tea. Writing my blog was my form of therapy. I was able to express myself in a manner that I had never experienced before.

The “Too Young’’ Club

The adolescent and young adult cancer community is one I never dreamed of being a part of. We see it in the movies, on television, or on social media, always depicted as young children or individuals ages 50+. We are told constantly that we are “too young” to have cancer. Here’s the thing, cancer does not discriminate between too young or too old, too male or too female, or too rich or too poor.

You Are Not Alone, and I Love You, Too

From the moment I received my diagnosis, my world as I knew it was no more. “Like Persephone, I had suddenly descended into a completely different landscape,” I wrote in my book, PURGATORY TO PARADISE: How Cancer Helped Me Design an Authentic Life. “Like the Underworld, this landscape was carved with rivers of chemo that burned the cancer cells growing inside of me.”

The Battle I Choose Not to Lose

With no history of breast cancer in my family, it was something I wouldn’t think would happen to me. It was out of the ordinary to feel the sharp pain. I shrugged it off at first until I felt something in my breast. I was confident it was an abscess because I’d had one before.