Today marks four years since I woke up from surgery, felt the port in my chest, and was told that my lobular breast cancer had returned and that it had metastasized.
I'm certainly not the scared, sad, emotional person I was then. I'm no longer the woman who spent hours Googling everything (stupid, stupid girl!) and believed the first response that told me I had only two or three months to live.
Over these past four years, an extraordinary community of old friends and new friends has carried me. They supported me emotionally and financially. They taught me, mentored me, trained me, and showed me that while metastatic breast cancer changes your life, it doesn't have to define it.
Today, I walk with this disease, grateful for every day and eager to offer what was so generously given to me. A shoulder to lean on, practical advice, friendship, resources, and hope to anyone newly diagnosed. Through volunteering with organizations that support people living with metastatic breast cancer, my knowledge continues to grow every day, and I love being able to pass those resources on to friends and strangers alike.
Four years after those terrifying days and weeks, I've realized this is one of the ways I can give back, by sharing the same kindness, love, and knowledge that others shared with me.
So today, of all days, I had a haircut appointment with a wonderful young woman who was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer just a year ago.
Needless to say, hair was the least important part of our conversation.
We talked about the loneliness. About how people around her are often in denial because she “looks so good.” About the lack of reliable emotional, financial, and educational resources. About finding support groups that meet both in person and online. And, of course, about the endless well-meaning comments from people who think all cancers are the same or know someone whose second cousin’s neighbor “cured” cancer by the most insane things that quacks of every variety can come up with.
In so many words, I just sat there in that salon chair, heartbroken. Then, I climbed onto my horse.
Information was shared. Tears were shed. Hugs were exchanged and held as neither one of us wanted to let go.
As strange as it may sound, helping this young woman was the greatest gift I could have received on my fourth anniversary. It reminded me how far I've come. It allowed me to pass forward the love that has been extended to me.
I will forever be grateful to Jim, to my family, and to every one of you who has walked this path beside me. Your kindness, encouragement, prayers, laughter, and friendship have carried me farther than you will ever know.
I continue to believe in science. I continue to believe in hope. And I hope I can keep reporting back with stories about the remarkable people I meet on this journey.
If you know someone living with cancer…a friend, a neighbor, a coworker, a writer, a family member, or even someone you barely know, reach out. Support them. Show up. Listen. Kindness doesn’t require expertise. It simply requires the commitment to be there for one another.
By the way, Jim and I will be volunteering with Little Pink Houses of Hope in September, and later that month I'll be serving as a patient advocate at the Lobular Breast Cancer Alliance conference in San Francisco. Can’t wait.
Love you all. I am so very grateful for every one of you.