The journey continues…

I started this blog after I ended my Caring Bridge. I didn’t know how long I would keep writing. It’s almost a journal some days. Number of views or people who like it does not matter for me. Like it or not, these are the things I’m going through. Trivial to some, relatable to others, always honest. I’ve thought about turning it into a book, but unsure of the best format or if I’d sell enough copies to cover the costs, since I did not with the last book I was a part of.

Anyway, back to the journey. Sometime in November, I developed a rash on my chest. I ignored it and just “treated” it with OTC stuff. It will go away. Wait until after Thanksgiving. Wait until after the World Duck calling. Still not gone. Wait until the work stuff slows down. Wait until after Christmas. Still not gone. Wait until after NYC. Wait until…. Still not gone. No more waiting.

I was able to get in to the Dr and she agreed it was good I came in. (So thankful to have a GP who didn’t ignore my concerns.) What many people don’t know is that inflammatory breast cancer starts as a rash. My rash was on the same side I had cancer. My mother-in-law had her cancer return more than 15 yrs after she first had it & it started as a rash, which she ignored until other issues forced her to go in. Then it was too late. I promised that her journey would not become mine.

Missed a work meeting for this stuff but my health is more important. I was able to get in on a Monday. Exam led to mammogram with an extra view on the left side. Wait in a changing room the size of a coat closet until the Dr read the mammogram. Better have an ultrasound to be sure. Ultrasound, then wait in the closet room again. Probably not inflammatory breast cancer, but given your history, biopsy is suggested. Instead of waiting for a call, I just went to the desk to schedule it. How about tomorrow? Excellent. The next day, the surgeon said, “It’s good you came in, but I think it looks ok. We will do 2 biopsies.” The next couple of days were a little more painful than I remembered from previous biopsies. These two were punch biopsies that were stitched up. Waiting is always the hard part.

Results came the following week. They showed up in my chart before the Dr called. So I tried to search up the terms and what it all meant. I did see negative for carcinoma = not breast cancer. The doctor called the next day and confirmed that it is not inflammatory breast cancer. She did a referral to dermatology & I need to keep an eye on it.

There is a lot of trauma associated with cancer. It’s different for everyone. They offer therapists to talk to after treatment, but only for so long. Then you’re kind of sent off into the world to navigate it yourself. You don’t know what will trigger the reactions, the memories or the fears. One of my worst anxiety attacks was after radiation concluded. I went from daily radiation during my lunch break to nothing. It might be a significant date, a new checkup or even a routine appointment. One thing people don’t talk about and maybe don’t think about is cancer drug commercials. I have a hard time seeing a 30-60 second ad for it without my mind wandering to where it shouldn’t.

You may not know that I am almost always hesitant to share things, especially about my cancer journey. I feel a responsibility to make people aware that this disease can impact younger women, preventative care is important, and also to take action if you feel like something isn’t right. People could tell me over and over that it doesn’t matter what stage mine was, it was still cancer and it still has had a lasting impact. Stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma, treated with lumpectomy and radiation, no chemo due to gene testing and tumor analysis, followed by hysterectomy/oophorectomy. Age:41. 11 years later I usually think about it less than before (unless I have 2 holes stitched and covered in surgical glue that are driving me nuts). Also, my surgical anniversary is this week. Just further proof that even though the world is heavy right now, everyone is dealing with something & it might not be visible.

Peace be with you on your journey of enough. I may not get there but I will keep trying.

But I didn’t…

I actually wrote this draft last November. I didn’t have the strength to post it. Worried about confrontation, loss, arguments, alienation etc… I had hope that things would get better. But it’s so much worse. Lies are rampant, checks and balances are gone, and people are dying. I don’t have the answers, and I feel helpless to all that’s going on.

I could have stayed silent, but I didn’t.

Here is the original draft –

Recently, a friend told a racist joke. I wanted to call them out, but I didn’t.

Recently, a friend made a racist comment. I wanted to make them repeat it, but I didn’t.

Recently, someone was upset because a restaurant had gender neutral bathrooms. I wanted to say that those are really helpful for families too because when my husband took our boys into the bathroom when they were little, there were not changing tables. I wanted to ask why it bothered them so much, but I didn’t.

Recently, someone made a comment about “Tampon Tim,” and I wanted to explain that often times opposing teams use the boys locker rooms or restrooms & that I’ve known a trans male who probably appreciates the machines being in there, but I didn’t.

I’ve wanted to scream out all of my reasons why I was hoping for kindness to prevail, but I didn’t.

I wanted to tell everyone that I’m a woman who needed fertility treatments to have children, and that I needed a D&C because I would not stop bleeding (something illegal in some states), but I didn’t.

I wanted to call out those who claim to be Christian, but don’t actually mean the phrase “love thy neighbor,” but I didn’t.

I wanted to yell at the guy who had a shirt that said “I’m back, bitches.” I wanted to flip him off, but I didn’t.

I wanted to put a Harris/Walz sign in my yard, but I didn’t.

I wanted to explain tariffs, but I didn’t.

I wanted to share about my preexisting condition (cancer survivor & diabetic), and how the healthcare changes were scary to me, but I didn’t.

I wanted to ask people if they make more than $360,000/year because otherwise they won’t be helped by this administration, but I didn’t.

I wanted to ask why people should be forced to have kids but then not supported after they have them, but I didn’t.

I wanted to speak up about all of the reasons I had hope for our country again, but I didn’t.

I wanted to ask about working in the fields or construction work or other difficult trades and if they were going to get those jobs once thousands of people are deported, but I didn’t.

I wanted to spout off statistics of the number of people who miscarry or have ectopic pregnancies or need fertility treatments, but I didn’t.

I wanted to ask about family values and why they think he has them, but I didn’t.

I wanted to say something to the guy wearing a garbage bag to the polls, but I didn’t.

When they talked about putting Bibles in school, I wanted to ask about other religions, but I didn’t.

So I didn’t…

I wanted to keep following along with their life updates, but they keep posting such hateful lies, so I didn’t.

I wanted to maintain our relationship, but their party was endorsed by the KKK and has Nazi flags at the rallies, so I didn’t.

I wanted to give up hope, but I know my time on earth is not done, so I didn’t.

I’m ashamed for not speaking up. It felt like talking to a wall. I knew nobody could change my mind, so I assumed I could not change anyone else’s. Even though I felt physically ill whenever I drove by a Trump sign or heard Fox “news,” (that’s in quotes because they were literally sued for not being actual news but entertainment instead), I didn’t take action. I could not fathom a convicted felon, rapist, racist actually being taken seriously and being voted in. When most of his former staff warned how dangerous he would be, I thought people would listen. When he actually said he wanted to dismantle the Dept of Education, Obamacare/ACA and that we wouldn’t need to vote again, I thought that would make people think twice.

I’m kind of scared to find out who thinks these things didn’t matter. Who thought “the price of eggs and gas” was more important than women’s rights or LGBTQ rights, or education or health? I want to be informed but I also want to be an ostrich or Sleeping Beauty for a while. I doubt it will be “just 4 years,” because they’re going to dismantle democracy and when we realize that, it will be too late.

I could have stayed silent, but I didn’t.