The Calm after the Storm | Cancer Free

I have been trying to keep my mind off the last few days.

The emotions have been so up, down, and all over the place. I found myself feeling unsure of how to feel, and more importantly what to say. Trying to live and celebrate when everything inside felt like it was breaking. Like I was a roller coaster ride. Trying to focus on anything but the lump that was taunting me, when I just wanted it to go away, to magically disappear.

After the biopsy I felt so stupid. Ready to just run away from everything and everyone.

My husband and I walked into a coffee shop after my little procedure and I had a big gauze sticking through my shirt. I felt like I had run a marathon when I had done nothing but lie on a table. When I placed my coffee order, I wanted the barista to know I had something wrong, why I looked so tired, why the mascara stains under my eyes, why I had sweat through my shirt, why my hair was in a big unwashed bun.

But why did I care? There were no physical signs of anything wrong, nothing you could see on the outside, and in that moment, I felt a rush of so many things. How many people were standing right beside me, had passed me in the hallway, the ones I had talked to without knowing, all of the people who have much bigger things going on inside of them without any physical signs. Who are they? What are their stories? I suddenly wanted to know.

When the nurse called me it was fear. In one week my life felt like I hit a pause button, but there is no pause button. Everything just kept going.  I felt deep inside that something was wrong but kept telling myself to stop it. Be positive, think positive. All of it was too much. I cried so hard on the table at the procedure, my husband held my hand the whole time, and the doctor did an amazing job. I am fine, and I will be fine. I have no active signs of cancer cells present. I have three tags now on the three lumps in my breast. There will be significant growth in the same lump we biopsied by this time next year. Surgery is probably the option. But I am hopeful for no growth. I will keep praying. I will celebrate.

I  found so much inspiration from hearing your stories, it was almost paralyzing. It is an odd thing to feel so exposed in sharing something so personal, yet at the same time so freeing. What I will take away from the experience is knowing that we need each other. People are vulnerable, we relate to each other’s stories, and we are capable of lifting others up when they need it most. Words are so powerful.

If I hear someone is scared or hurting I will now always reach out. Always say something because it was a feeling I can’t describe. I feel like the love I experienced and the outpouring of support was something a lot of people will never see or understand. Typically we say things when it is too late. We would give anything to pick up the phone after someone has left this world. But what about the people who are here? The ones who are so important to you and you haven’t spoken to them or told them that you love them lately? Tell them, call them, hug them. Life is fragile.

Thank you for loving me.