"I just want it to be over!"

Recently, I was visiting with a newly diagnosed Breast Cancer patient who was looking forward to getting "it" all behind her. Part of the reason we connected was so I could help her manage her expectations. It's such a tender time being newly diagnosed. Everybody's case is so unique, but it's safe to say, if the patient is having surgery & chemo, she will have some long-lasting effects. Suffice it to say, when a newly diagnosed patient has the expectation of reaching the finish line (which is always the case), I have to think of the gentlest way to try to get her to frame a different "picture."

It's hard for a Survivor to wrap her head around the fact that this atrocity is not going to end. As a Survivor, she sets her eye on the end date, usually about a year (depending on the regiment prescribed for her case). Whatever the specifics, she may be bracing herself for surgery, chemo, & radiation (not necessarily in that order). She fixes her eye on that last treatment, & says, "I can do this; I will do this. For my family, my children, my spouse, myself... I will do this."

As I sit visiting with her, I know where her head is because I remember the most tender moments of my life. The early days of this diagnosis qualify. I don't want to traumatize her anymore than she already is, but I also don't want her to be mislead. My cousin who is so dear to me is also a Survivor. We reconnected after a lifetime (almost) through our Breast Cancer journeys. She was less than one year out, & I was about 4 years out. I remember how she kept saying, "I thought this would be over. I was so clueless until this happened to me. I just never knew."

I try to look the new Survivor in the eye with all the compassion I have for her (which is pretty much all of me) & quietly suggest that she might want to reframe her picture. I explain that as much as we want this journey to end, perhaps a safer or healthier way to picture "it," is to try to embrace it. I remember when my counselor suggested I look for the gifts along the way. I came home that day & wrote a blog that went something like this..."Can you believe it? My counselor told me to look for the gifts on this journey. What the Heck!"

Well... I'm 6 years down the road now. I look back & easily get a lump in my throat. I look at new Survivors, & my heart is heavy. My road continues. The journey does not end, not the fear, not the unknown, not the longterm effects... I am forever changed both on the outside & on the inside. The surprises keep coming, & I keep accepting them. I have no other choice. I surrender, but I hang on for dear life (sometimes by a thread). Some people get it. Some don't. My relationships are deeply impacted. I am sorry for those who have to hear my story over & over & over. BUT, I do believe the best advice I was ever given was to look for the gifts along the way. The treasures are many & the depth of those treasures are the trade-off for this journey.

It's not OK for you!

So... today it happened. I walked into Susan G. Komen Memorial Affiliate, & there it was! I had to wait to see it because I had to attend to a few other things first. There was Katie. There was Jeanette, and of course, Linda, & Jordan.  I didn't see Gail. I had to hug each one of them. I had to thank each one of them for their prayers, their words of encouragement, & for caring for me. I haven't been there for a while, & as I walked thru the doors, it felt like home. Home Sweet Home.

Unless you've had a reason to walk thru these doors in the shoes of a Survivor, you might not understand what this place means to me.  It's a refuge. It has an atmosphere that welcomes the Survivor, & says, "I am here for you." When I think of the story of Susan G. Komen & why & how this organization was founded, I understand the meaning of leaving a legacy. There is a saying that "A legacy is not something you leave for people. It's something you leave in people."

Over the last 6 years, I have thought about the legacy I hope to leave. The women I mentioned above... Katie, Jeanette, Linda, Jordan, & Gail. They & a few others are leaving a legacy. Not only are they carrying on the legacy of Susan G. Komen, they are doing it with their own touch (each of them). The older I get, the more thankful I am for compassion & understanding. When I walk thru these doors, I see pink (my favorite color). I see these women working so hard on my behalf. One of them (the youngest) is a Survivor. They all have a heart for the Survivor.

Because of them, I am alive. They represent HOPE. They know so much about this awful disease, & they give their lives to that one day it will be eradicated. I don't know why they care so much. Yes, they earn a salary, but I believe they give far more than they take. Yes, they have to live, to put food on their tables, & support families. Many volunteer to help, but these women; they never stop. I think when they awake in the middle of the night, they ponder what they can do to find this much needed cure. Why do they care so much?

When I donate my own $ to this cause, I know that it is well used. When I ask friends to donate, I believe in this cure. It is just around the corner. I want it so bad! I want it for my daughters, for my grand daughters, for my cousin, for my fellow Survivors, for my friends, for the people who will come after me. You see, people who never knew me went before me. They tried to find a cure for me, & they didn't even know me. I don't know who the next Survivor will be. Will it be someone I love?

Lump in throat. I cannot bear the thoughts of this. It's worse than my own cancer returning. I have walked this journey for 6 years. If you know me deeply, you know what it's done to me. I have embraced this journey. Even tho' it's currently wreaking havoc in my life, I still embrace it. It's okay for me, but "NO, it's not OK for you!" I finally got to it. My Pink Shirt! I can't even begin to explain what this Pink Shirt means to me. No words for that!