As I write this, it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month. Breast cancer is something that I am definitely aware of! Never in my wildest imagination would I have expected that I would be approaching my 44th birthday with two surgeries under my belt (well, actually, above my belt if you want to get your anatomy straight), months of chemotherapy and radiation treatment ahead of me, and no hair, as I am now. I just thought I’d be another year older—silly me! I used to gripe about birthdays and growing older. Now I long to (and expect to) celebrate many more.

    I have always been diligent about my annual checkups and mammograms. In fact, I had had one in January. So I was really surprised to discover a lump in my breast only five months later. (Ladies, this goes to show that it is really important to do your self-exams!) After a brief doctor’s exam on July 2nd, I was rushed through an ultrasound, a core biopsy, a meeting with the surgeon, an MRI, a radioactive dye injection (I didn’t glow in the dark), and then, on July 22nd, my first surgery. It was a really busy three weeks.

    I was a lucky breast cancer patient—if there is such a thing—in that my tumor was small and my lymph nodes were clear of cancer. I was unlucky in that they had to go in a second time because the pathology report showed that there was likely still cancerous tissue that needed to be removed. Fortunately, everything came back clear from the second surgery, which took place two weeks after the first.

    The next step, which I’m in the middle of as I write, is chemotherapy. What a scary concept that is! I have been feeling great all along but now the cure is going to make me sicker than the disease. I have been pretty fortunate not to experience some of the classic side effects like nausea. Of course I did lose my hair—that started exactly two weeks after the first treatment—and now I actually feel (and look) like a cancer patient! And there was the weird chemical aftertaste in my mouth, but that lasted only for a few days. So far there’s been nothing I can’t handle with a sense of humor and a realization that it’s only for a little while—although it seems like forever right now.

    I have found that it is actually harder for those who love you to deal with your cancer than it is for you. I, at least, have a semblance of control in this situation: eating right, exercising, and following my treatment plans. My family, though, can’t really do anything to take it away or make me better. In fact, I find they have a certain level of frustration that I am not more helpless than I am, because then they would have something tangible to do for me. Maybe that time will come, but until it does I am committed to keeping my life as normal as possible. I truly appreciated my coworkers’ picking up the slack while I was out, bringing me up to speed now that I am back, and understanding my needs as I cope with the afternoon fatigue that inevitably hits.

    I have learned that one in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. I have learned that 43 is a very young age to be diagnosed (finally I am young again!). I have learned more medical terminology than I every wanted to. I have met some wonderful, caring, and knowledgeable doctors and nurses who are committed to seeing me cancer free for at least another 60 years (yes, I know that will make me over 100). I have met lots of new people, deepened friendships, and received a ton of love and encouragement. This experience has definitely brought many positive things into my life that I will cherish and never take for granted.

     Yes, cancer is truly scary, but in the words of Olympic swimmer Eric Shanteau, “I have cancer; cancer doesn’t have me.”