Ever since I can remember cancer has been my biggest, most outsized fear. Even as a teen, even as a child, it filled me with terror. In April of 2023, my biggest fear became my reality. I had been having breast pain and went in for a diagnostic ultrasound -  a horrible experience. The radiologist assigned to me told his  technologist "Oh yeah, that's cancer. Her biopsy will confirm that.” Right in front of me! I felt as though the image they saw on the monitor was more important than the living, vulnerable woman on the table right next to them. A woman whose sense of equanimity had just shattered.

I was so lost in fear. I could not eat or sleep or even talk. I just felt nauseating terror to the very core of my being. And then-  I started talking to women who have been through this and they brought me such hope, such strength, such wisdom. They all assured me the worst time was between diagnosis and meeting your care team. “Once you know that plan, you get on with living”. 

One of the first wise women I spoke with told me ”Welcome  to the club that nobody wanted to join, but is full of unexpected blessings”  She assured me that no matter how much I currently loved my life, and the my  people, once on  the other side of things,  I would love them even more;  no matter how richly blessed I felt now, going through this, I would realize even more blessings. I learned that like many of us, I found it easy to overestimate the risks and underestimate my resources and ability to cope.

The cancer in my body was ER/PR- HER2+. It's a pretty aggressive form of the disease, and when I met my original surgeon she told me that  non hormone receptive variants are hard to treat, but “We always have hope”. I can't tell you the dark place that put me in. After a good cry I called the Carbone Cancer Center and almost the first thing I heard was “Honey, we don't need hope. We have plans! We are going to take good care of you”. And I knew I found my people.

I chose to never consult Dr Google, and made a conscious decision to trust in the Divine, and my care team. They know a lot more about keeping people alive, and restoring them to health than I do. Rather than second-guess them, I chose to look with gratitude on all that we have learned about treating cancer in the last several decades. I was grateful for my port. Grateful for the toxic chemical cocktail that made me feel uncomfortable for a few days, but would ultimately  give me so, so many more days. Grateful that I was able to be treated at a research hospital, which prioritizes eradicating cancer over cost-control. Grateful that I had such a wonderful caring nurse navigator, oncologist, phenomenal surgeon and experienced radiologist. Grateful that my chemo nurses were so kind and compassionate. 

I tried to meet the challenges of treatment head on. Tired all the time? Okay - I can sleep more. People  want to drive me places, walk my dog,  bring food? That's fantastic! My hair is falling out? No problem -I went the full Moira Rose and rocked a collection of fun and funky wigs in lots of different colors. Care team running late and chemo takes all day? No big deal- this is the most important thing I'm doing in my life right now. 

There's also a lot of support available from people you don't know. Your patient advocate can help you connect with them - everything from rides, to house cleaning, to lasagna deliveries, to finding funding to pay for time off work, or for complementary care. I received a grant that paid for 6 months of weekly acupuncture and that made chemo so much easier. 

Here's the best cancer analogy I can come up with. It's like coming home one day and finding a grizzly bear in your house. You don't know if it's going to eat you alive or maybe just rip up your kitchen, eat all your peanut butter and leave. Then once it's gone, you don't know if it's gone for good or if it's going to tell all its friends where you live, so they can come over too. Post treatment I've done the best I can to bear-proof my house, and now I do my best to live fearlessly. 

This is what I want you to know: Yes, living with cancer Is frightening. Yes, it is hard and often uncomfortable. But you can do it and if you look you will find so many, many unexpected blessings. I was surprised and delighted so many times by things large and small. The people who I hadn't heard from in years who sent cards or messages; the vulnerable and heartfelt conversations that deepened so many of my relationships; the crazy relief that comes from admitting I'm mortal and not invincible; and learning to accept help. I'm not one who believes everything happens for a reason, but I do believe over time we can find meaning in anything if we look for it. I've never seen my year of cancer as a battle, or myself as a fighter. Instead, I've really tried to lean into a very prickly invitation and to see how I can grow personally and spiritually. 

You are not alone. You stand on the shoulders of everyone who has come before you, and we are all reaching out our hands to you to keep you propped upright on this journey, and soon you may choose to do the same for those who come after you. Welcome, Pink Sister!