On March 12, 2008, my doctor told me I had breast cancer.
I immediately did research on the internet and decided for myself that I had the most curable, and treatable of all breast cancers, which would entail nothing more than a quick surgical removal of a small lump in my left breast. Boy, was I wrong.
I must say I took the news like a trooper and flippantly explained to my boss the illness was merely a bump in the road. He assured me I could take as much time off as I needed, to which I replied, "Oh no, I plan to work the whole time!" Of course I was naive once again, not forseeing how chemotherapy would bring me to my knees.
Throughout 2008, I did the adjuctive chemotherapy, the mastectomies, the radiation. This year has been a journey in reconstructive surgery--two surgeries done, and one more to go. Now, I am supposeedly cancer-free--but it came with price. I've lost both of my breasts. Due to complications from my first reconstructive surgery last March, both my legs are numb from the knees down. It's hard enough to walk these days, and forget about running or getting on the stairmaster.
My entire torso looks like a road map of scars, and I hate the sight of my naked body. But enough of the negative talk. I feel grateful, because as of now, the medical jury says I'm cured.
And there's so many people out there that just aren't that lucky.
I'm 52 years old. Now is my time to pick up the pieces. I had a scary brush with the angel of death and I escaped--even if some scars were involved. As I went through my treatment last year, I began to think about all of my dreams yet unfullfilled.
God spared me for a reason--because I have yet to do my purpose on earth. This blog is my way of clarifying how I want to reinvent my life as a breast cancer survivor. And trust me, I plan to do it with style. That's all for now.