Running a Race I Never Chose: Life During Cancer

The surgeon said, I had two choices: I could either have another lumpectomy, or I could have a mastectomy. I thought about it for a week and decided on a mastectomy. The cancer was only in my left breast. So, there is that. I will only have one breast missing.

The surgeon suggested that I, “…get one of those mastectomy bras or have reconstructive surgery.” I decided on reconstructive surgery. The reconstructive surgeon asked, “Why don’t you just cut both breasts off. It will be easier to get them to the same size?”

“No, I can’t do that,” I said.

He shrugged his shoulders.

There was a race for the cure in the state where I live and I heard a breast cancer survivor on the news say, “Having cancer is physically demanding.”

I have been told by the oncologist that I need to start being more physically active. I have been told that I need to eat better. I have been asked, “How am I feeling?”

I don’t know how I am feeling. I deal with cancer when I have to — i.e., when I go to the doctor, ask about it, or see the scars on my breasts; however, the rest of the time, I sometimes even forget I have it. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in late February. I was surprised. I had hoped that I would have been told the opposite. I sometimes fantasied about it. What if they said I was good, and I did not have cancer.

But that did not happen. I am fifty-three years old with no children or husband. I am a loner and I wonder as my mother goes to the hospital with me, if I will ever be the same again.

If there is one word that sums up what cancer is like, it is unprepared.

The thing with cancer is that it is always the worst surprise. You never expect it and you are not prepared. But how do I prepare for something as life changing as having my left breast removed? And that is just the start. I must go through radiation, chemotherapy, and hormone therapy. I feel like I am running a race that I did not want to, and I am ill prepared for.

How do I stop running this race? It’s not as though I can say, “Wait I don’t want to run anymore. I want to stop.”

I feel trapped in a room with no way of getting out. I started out the year with goals to focus on my career but now I must focus — at least, part of the time — on this. I have no choice but to go through this and I resent it.

I have been told that I won’t die from this, but I have a feeling there will be times when I feel like that I will. I have decided to treat this like it is not the end of the world but a beginning. To take the time to realize that I will not live forever, and that this too is not forever.

If there is one word that sums up what cancer is like, it is unprepared. You will not be prepared for any of it. It is best to just hold your breath and go through it as best you can. I am sleepwalking through it most of the time. I barely can think through all the many things that my body is going through.

So, I go through this and hope that everything will be fine, and when it is, I won’t think back to this. I will only move forward determined and forgetful and glad that it is over. I know that I am not any wiser because of this experience. I am simply a person that is so tired and want this to be far behind me, but until that time, I hold on the best that I can.

I did not expect to have breast cancer, but it is here and all I ask is that it will be something that will never happen again. This is a moment in time and life is made up of moments but hopefully, it will soon be over; a moment that I can forget about.

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