When I drove the kids to school this morning I was a little weepy. It might be that I wasn’t fully appreciative of our son’s command of the sound system. (Jimmie Hendrix is great but not at 7:30 am.). But it was all about the realization that two years ago today I had my bilateral mastectomy.
Two years ago I had an even earlier commute with Steve up to the hospital. I joked that he was going to roll to a stop and push me out. Remember all those COVID policies at the start of all of this?? Instead, he parked illegally at the curb so he could get out and hug me. And honestly I wanted to just stay in that hug for forever. I’d still be standing there if I had my druthers.
But it’s a good and blessed thing that I turned and entered the hospital and he went home to wait.
Two years since the cancer was cut out of me. Two years.
The gold standard is getting to 5. Five is a magic number. But with triple negative cancer - 2 is a very very sweet number indeed.
Last week I had a check up with my breast surgeon. Everything looks good. So good that she said I’ve graduated to only have annual visits with her now. We joked that I like her a lot but I’m just as happy to see her 1x a year instead of more frequently.
Today I had my 3 month blood work. The initial tests were good but I get the results of the important ones tomorrow. But the oncology team told me I’ve graduated to only having blood work every 6 months. Again - love those people but happy to see less of them.
🎓🎓 Two graduations in a week. No party yet. That comes in three more years. Mark your calendar. I’m seriously planning where to book it.
I mentioned party planning last Saturday. I had the pleasure of speaking to a bunch of UT students who were doing Relay for Life. I was recognized as a survivor and gave a 10 min version of my cancer story. I ended with a reminder that I’m one of the lucky ones. That there are many who still fight. Who still are undergoing treatment. Who have yet to hear the news. And thus we press on. We raise money and awareness. We make sure our friends do screenings. And we work toward a world where cancer does not get to steal joy all over the world.
To my friends in the thick of treatments and he scary - I pray for you.
To my fellow survivors - I cheer with you and recognize that gnawing bit of worry that we always carry with us.
To the caregivers - you are heroes. Never forget that.
To the medical professionals - you made a difference. Thank you.
To my friends who are always there for me - I love you dearly.
And to my family - you are my rock. My all. I love you forever.
