September 16, 2015
Fight or Flight?
I’m in the Fight camp. I am not a runner. If I run, I run toward the car that’s on fire (true story), toward the two large men about to punch each other (true multiple stories).
When we found out the surgery date I had an overwhelming urge to run away as fast and far as I could. Overwhelming urge doesn’t even really begin to describe the intenseness of flight that I had. Then comes the paralysis, because I have zero control. Then comes tears of loss and grief. Then Amelia and I hug for a long time. Then I go to work.
Cancer never comes at a good time, but goddamn, this is the worst time. Five days before my diagnosis we closed a business that we were done with physically and emotionally. It was a cathartic and extremely emotional time saying goodbye to Felicia. We closed at our peak and it felt great. It was a huge relief to let it go and prepare for our next big adventure. We are unemployed. And, if the irony wasn’t enough…
In August my Mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was caught extremely early by a radiologist who works like a detective. These are the health care people you want on your team. They operate like investigators, they want answers to the whats, whys and hows. My Mom’s cancer was tiny, BB-sized, and the radiologist found it. She got a lumpectomy relatively quickly. Every cancer is different and Mom’s is invasive, aggressive and HER2+ which means now she has to have chemotherapy for 3 months for a goddamn BB. Mother AND daughter? I hate you Cancer.