2

I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago today. I was sitting in the repair shop customer lounge waiting for my car to be finished. I will never forget the feeling of numbness that hit me as I struggled to find a piece of paper to write on, demanding to my nurse practitioner that she read me "exactly what the pathology report says!" The numbness continued as I went home and immediately started to look up every single word of the pathology report online. I am an emergency care provider, not an oncology provider. I had no idea of what was happening to me.

I spent the first several days after my diagnosis feeling very numb yet very certain of each decision I made. There was little discussion about how things would unfold...I would do everything I could to maximize my recovery and long-term survival. I never want to look bad at the decisions I made about my breast cancer and regret something...or wish I had done something different. Thus far, I have been very comfortable with my decisions. Confident in them? Not so much...that remains to be seen.

A friend recently asked me what the experience of breast cancer was like for me. I couldn't really answer her. Today it came to me. It was like standing on a road that you could see for miles (the kind they show in movies, out there in the desert southwest) and right in front of you was a HUGE hole in the road. You can't see exactly what is in there and you can't quite figure out exactly how big the hole is but you can see the road on the other side, continuing on to somewhere in the future. I had to get over that hole in order to contine on the road that was my life. The hole is my breast cancer. I could go around it but that may have have some consequences and problems associated with it. Going over it? Probably not such a great idea. If I wanted to keep moving along on my road, I had to go through it...climb down the hole that was surgeries and chemotherapy to emerge and continue on the road.

I entered the hole with tremendous love and support. The days were dark and some of them scary but I got through it. I began to climb back out and now, continue on my road. There were some interesting lessons in the hole. I hate to say it but all of those 'living in the moment' cliches ARE true so believe them.

I experienced some tremendous losses during my care and treatment. I lost body parts, dignity, privacy and occasionally, hope. But some of these things are back...except the body parts. In fact, since my diagnosis I have lost more. What I have realized though, is through the losses comes some wins. A life. A new perspective. Different relationships with people around me. Different thoughts about life, love and hope.

So as I mark this day, I have this revelation: A loss is a win. At least it has been thus far!