Breast Cancer

After Cancer You 2.0

It’s not always straightforward. It doesn’t “end after treatment ends.” Of course, treatment doesn’t always end. Even when it does, the wonder at whether treatment will be needed again flickers continuously on and off in my brain. On. Off. On.

As an active young mom, writer, contemplative, and AYA cancer survivor, I think a lot.

Cancer Free!?

Is it possible to ever be free of cancer? The mutated cells can be erradicated, health can return, life can move forward, but the grip cancer holds in my mind will remain. The fear that it could come back. That I must be on my guard, on the lookout for signs.

Inevitable Change

Change.
Auburn leaves fall to the ground.
Magenta skies fade to black.
A lotus thrives in muddy water.
A caterpillar transitions.

How the Berating Surgeon Lost Her Power Over Me

Before the vaccine was available to the layperson, when the CDC was recommending double masking in public, in January of 2021, I attended my diagnostic breast biopsy alone. Double masked and still carrying the weight of my postpartum anxiety that caused a debilitating fear of germs, I entered the small, stuffy waiting room, forced to sit very close to my nervous comrades.

A Way With Words

You never know what you’ll find out about yourself when you put it down in writing; you can learn so much. You can say things you wouldn’t dream of saying out loud. You can be frank with yourself in ways that you can’t be with your partner, your mother, your best friend. You can tell the truth.

Reconstruction: A Never-Ending Story

My mastectomy scars started out as the midnight blue of my surgeon’s pen, deftly scrawling the path of his scalpel on the white canvas of my chest. After he came, drew, and left, I found myself in front of the mirror over the sink of the pre-op bathroom, staring at the roadmap he’d sketched. I was met with an array of curved and straight lines; dictating symmetry, outlining what would be kept and not kept, and measuring how long, how wide, and how far down.

Words Matter

Words matter.

The problem is that most people don’t really know what to say.

When I got diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer at age 35, I quickly learned that when people are at a loss for words, they revert to the old clichés.

Saying the Word Cancer for the First Time

I remember the first time I said the word “cancer” out loud, admitting to myself that I indeed had the diagnosis. Saying this type of word for the first time was much like saying a cuss word for the first time—a forbidden fruit of sorts and brace yourself for impact kind of moment. Once you form the words and the sound of the word echoes in your ear, the initial fear of the word slowly subsides and you begin to slowly process your diagnosis.

Words Have Power

Research shows that the statement “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is untrue. Words not only influence how we feel but how we experience the world around us—our reality. They can lift us up or bring us down and even cause harm (e.g. bullying).

Thus, they can be a source of great power, but also, of incredible disempowerment.

Just for Today

Can I tell myself just for today
that I love myself
That if ever I was to love myself
It would be today in this moment