A few months after my 40th birthday, my doctor scheduled me for a screening mammogram – my first. Barely 24 hours later, I was told that I had cancer. Not stage 0, not DCIS, not we “caught it early” cancer. Nope. The tumor was invasive, triple-positive breast cancer, the size of a large grape and had spread to the lymph nodes in my armpit. The mammogram revealed a knotted, white starburst that was helpfully labeled with a small yellow arrow despite the fact that even a drunk frat boy could have hit it from across the room with a dart.
I felt scared (of course) but also silly, stupid, and angry — because I am a scientist. Heck, I even did my dissertation research on breast cancer! I should have found it sooner and not had the tumor pointed out (gently but with more than a little disbelief) by the ultrasound technician, “Honey, don’t you see that?” as she pointed to the raised bump on my chest.
I had no family history of cancer. I had three babies in my twenties and breastfed them all. I did self-exams (usually). I was busy with life. With my career, raising 3 kids, a husband. Breast cancer was the farthest thing from my mind.
The next year of my life was taken over by cancer: appointments, treatments, infusions, radiation, wigs, scarfs, diarrhea, blood work, heart scans, heart burn, drains, scars, fear, Xanax, tears, celebrations, milestones, more drugs, more procedures, surgery, infections, healing, recovery, grief, depression, new friends, lost friends, lost job.
The natural history of untreated breast cancer is a painful death within 2 ½ to 3 years. Thanks to modern medicine, I have now officially outlived my disease.
Several years ago, when I was still in my 30s, I had my palm read at a Halloween party. My lifeline starts at the base of my index finger and drifts towards the center of my palm. There, it is met by another line and the two continue on as one crease all the way to the base of my thumb. The palmist informed me that my lifeline was “long” and that it was met half way by a person or relationship that would stay with me for the rest of my life. This should be good new! However, it worried me at the time. I was 19 when I met my husband and 21 when we married. If he was the relationship that was going to join my life half-way through, my life expectancy would be about 40 years. Uh oh.
Now I think the relationship that joined my life halfway through was cancer. Or at least the event that changed the trajectory of the line across my palm and set it on a new course. The intersection represents the point when I crossed over from my original time-line, which would have ended with my death about now, to a new one.
In the last 3 years since I was diagnosed with cancer, I have gained 25 pounds, lost one breast and regrown all of my hair. I have also lost my job, changed careers and let go of a close friendship. I don’t recognize myself at all.
I’ve also traveled, gotten a tattoo (okay, two) and celebrated my 20th, 21st and 22nd wedding anniversaries. I partied with my parents for their 50th anniversary, developed a new relationship with my father and became a great-aunt (still need to hold that baby!). This year, my oldest children (twins) will graduate high school and I will be there.
I am adrift on a sea of gifted time and I still haven’t figured out where I am going. But, at least according to my palm, I have time to figure it out.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. The time had finally come to try to put words to my thoughts — and pictures!