Seeing through the Fog of Cancer

A bronze outside of the Arts Center.

For the last three mornings, fog in my little town has been thick as cotton. Yesterday one of my water aerobics ladies who is renting a condo on the water looked out and saw her husband drinking his coffee on the deck overlooking the bay. "What are you looking at?" she quipped.

This morning, it was much the same. So I decided to try my luck, and I do mean it's luck, at taking photos of the water and surroundings against the hazy, gray sky.

The foggy harbor is still and quiet.

As I snapped, it dawned on me. Two years ago today, I began my journey through cancer treatment. It was on this day, Feb. 2, 2010, that I underwent my lumpectomy. A month later, I underwent a bi-lateral mastectomy. And a month after that, my chemo treatments began. Ironically, last night I was contacted by a former co-worker who has just been diagnosed with the same type of breast cancer. She is just beginning her journey and I assured her that she is strong enough to make it. However, she will never be the same.

A great blue heron looks for his breakfast.

I told her that it is my belief that stress caused mine. My mother had died, my workplace was undergoing leadership shifts, and of course, there's the usual family obligations. My friend Netty listened and told me she believes the same thing happened to her. Within the last three years, she and her husband split. Then both of her parents died within seven months of each other. Then a beloved uncle died. And of course, there are work pressures. She also has Lupus which may have played a part.

Netty said she posted her diagnosis on Facebook as a way to manage communication. I told her that when you are diagnosed with a potentially terminal disease, you really need a gatekeeper. Someone who manages access to you outside of family members. There is a wonderful online site called http://carecalendar.org/ that manages meals, lawn service, carpool, etc. Someone manages the site for you, then sends the password and link out to friends and family. People can go online and sign up for meals, home services, childcare, transportation. Also, updates on your treatment and condition can be posted on the site making unnecessary for you to rehash every detail. 

So, two years later, I'm as strong as ever. I go back to my oncologist in March for a check-up. That's always an anxiety-ridden visit. That's my new challenge now, managing appointment anxiety.

Wondering when there will be either a vaccine or cure for breast cancer.

The Wondering Texan