Starting to write again after a five month dry spell feels awkward and difficult. Much has happened to me during this period, most importantly I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I had a mastectomy on one breast and a lumpectomy on the other in January. I’ve hesitated to write this news down, not wanting to give this cancer a voice, a chance to take me over and render me helpless. But maybe I’ll find strength by naming it, and just starting to slowly write my thoughts down about my particular experiences.
So I’ve been on a breast cancer journey for months. My husband Michael has been incredible, supporting me all the way through initial tests and breast biopsy leading to diagnosis; switching treatment providers; another breast biopsy; three surgeries; bone, chest and abdomen CT scans; a liver biopsy; and we are now waiting for radiation treatments and medication I must take for at least 5 years. It’s been a long, stressful ordeal.
Michael has been responsible for nursing me, changing dressings after surgeries and stripping drains and emptying their fluid for me twice a day. He had the courage to look at my breasts when I could not; telling me I was beautiful and loved. That meant so much. I would not get up the courage to look at my chest until about three weeks post surgery in January. I’m so frightened of change; hopefully the experience of seeing my transformed chest and not being displeased at all might teach me once and for all that change is not such a bad thing.
So today I’m about 10 days out from my last surgery for awhile. I got my implant for my mastectomy breast, and my plastic surgeon told me yesterday I was officially No Evidence of Disease (NED). That’s the term they use instead of saying cancer-free or cured. Yet the fact remains I did have breast cancer, and I’m joining the ranks of numerous other women who’ve been in this boat. I had been so naive about what it means to be diagnosed; it seemed like it was something that always happened to someone else, couldn’t possibly happen to me. Nope.
There are several parts of my experience I want to explore in writing: How this breast cancer affected my husband, what he was called upon to do, how our marriage is affected, where we go from here. Next, write about how my anxiety disorder focusing on small, insignificant shit completely disappeared and was replaced by a strong, kick ass survivor mentality. “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.” Also, giving back, how can I contribute to the ongoing dialogue about breast cancer survivorship? And of course more topics will just come out over time.
So here’s my return to writing. Just take it slow, Melissa. Practice when you can. There’s been a lot going on in your world lately. Welcome back.
