How I’m Doing Lately
People ask a lot, with that knowing tone, “How are you doing?” The answer varies wildly depending on when you ask me. I have a truly beautiful life, and I know that. Much of the time I truly feel pretty great. Other times I don’t. I’m in a weird phase of breast cancer treatment. I’m not exactly “fighting” breast cancer anymore as much as I’m just trying to prevent its recurrence. I’m oscillating between gratitude that I’ve faired so well through everything and mourning that my body will never be the same.
Ed Sheeran’s song “Boat” says, “They say that all scars heal, but I know, maybe I won’t. But the waves won’t break my boat.” And that’s sort of how I feel. There are things done to my body that I can never undo that will have lifelong consequences for my heart, brain, and bones. Those parts won’t “heal,” even after my mastectomy scars fade. But I won’t let that break me. Being in surgically induced menopause and taking medication to suppress all my estrogen sometimes leaves me feeling pretty anxious and overwhelmed. Some days I’m tempted to stay in a pity party, feeling like it’s not “fair” that I had to have this gene that causes breast cancer or that I got cancer before I could take preventative measures. But it’s also not fair that anyone goes through any of the harrowing seasons of life. We can all could choose to wallow, but that only drags out the suffering.
People love to say that you’re such a warrior or so brave when they find out you had cancer, but the reality is that cancer is something that happens to you without your consent. It doesn’t feel brave to move through it the best that you can, because what is the other option? I assure you if I could erase the BRCA2 gene from my family’s history, I definitely would. But my reality is just what it is, with no ability to change it. So I choose to fight for peace and joy. Depression is a completely valid response. I’m so aware that if I didn’t have this insane amount of support and privilege that I could easily feel so overwhelmed that drowning in sorrow might seem like the only option. My life happens to be packed full of people and things to be thankful for, with my three kids and Andy at the top of the list. I want those awesome humans to not remember me only sad or angry. I want them to remember a fun and happy mom because they bring me so much joy. I don’t want to be suffocated by anxiety while I try to parent and manage our household. So I run. I run to hold onto joy. I breathe. I breathe and pray and the knot of tension in my chest melts away. I eat. I eat to try to nourish my body so that it can be healthy to play and run and do the things that help the joy stay. I want to enjoy my body, even while I’m still mad at it. It’s all still a gift and I want to use the gift of this life well.
