August 15, 2011

Live, Laugh, Love ...

Whew, the time has come; chemotherapy begins in approximately 12 hours.  I am unable to put effectively, into words, how I am feeling.  I do know this: I have been fasting since Saturday evening at 9:00 pm, 48 hours and I am hungry!  LOL!  Oh, what I would not do for some fresh cherries, blueberries, raspberries, raw almond, cashews, and a smoked salmon Caesar salad … not all at the same time of course.

Strangely, I do not feel panicked, anticipatory, fearful, nervous, or anxious about tomorrow.  I am clear that I am not in a state of denial but rather a state of acceptance; I have an aggressive form of breast cancer.  Equally, I am embracing the depth of sorrowful emotions I am frequently experience.  Humiliation is the first word that comes to mind as I write.  This cancer is systematically changing the landscape of my physical body.  I told myself, a lumpectomy will only remove the tumors and my breast would remain somewhat in tacked.  Real Talk – When looking in the mirror, there is a quarter of one breast missing, I cry.  I tell myself that the best health choice is to undergo a bilateral mastectomy after chemotherapy.  Real Talk – I weep nearly every time I envision losing my breasts.  I tell myself, hair is only hair…it will grow back.  Real Talk - it does not relieve the sting.  Cancer is cruel.  Treatment is harsh.  The cure is unknown. 

Live, laugh love … I do all three Big, Texas Big!  Too many individuals take life entirely too serious and forget to enjoy life; this includes the highs and lows.  Life is a bit bumpy, if it were smooth, I fear we would all grow bored.  My life may appear chaotic to observers, but I would not have it any other way.  Real Talk.  My life is not chaotic, it is filled with challenges, beauty, compassion, accountability, conflict, growth, and love; every day is a miracle.  I am amazed by the resilient nature of all my children. Triumphs uniquely measure; the enormity matters not, it is progress and worthy of joyful expression.  I love all my children, just where they are at. 

I remain positive and hopeful as I look at the bright side of cancer.  Guess who will not need to shave for about six months?  Yep, me!  No need to worry about blow-drying and styling my hair; I will adorn my baldhead with beautiful scarfs or my foxxy new wig.  Whoop whoop.  There is great beauty when we allow ourselves to look beyond the cancer.  I have fabulous friends, family, and newfound friends whom offer support, love, care, compassion, encouragement, kind words, and thoughtful expressions.  I am fortunate.  Today, I am hopeful.