Fight Like a Girl

Its been 4 weeks since I felt a lump in my left breast. 3 weeks since my doctor also thought it was a concern and ordered an ultrasound. Ten days since an ultrasound led to a mammogram which led immediately to a biopsy. Five days and 19 hours since I heard the words, “you know you have cancer right?”

Admittedly not the most graceful way to deliver bad news, but the surgeon we were consulting to remove the lump did not realize that the results had not reached my family doctor yet, a result of all my testing happening in the very efficient St. Thomas Elgin General Hospital and my doctor being out of the loop in our rural hometown.

Initial shock hits and I immediately start tearing up and I can’t even look at my husband. Although we had talked about it, and I had told him that yes, I knew I most likely had cancer….I didn’t REALLY believe that. I’m an eternal optimist, a glass half-full, look for the silver lining kind of gal. Now I can’t hope that I’m an unusual one and this is all an elaborate warning shot.

Now I’m mad. I’m 33, I have two fabulous children that are the centre of my world, my husband and I are connecting in a way we haven’t in our 17 years together, I’m starting to establish myself as a Lion’s member and a fibre artist, I exercise, I enjoy all things healthy, I meditate….I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!

I feel betrayed, vulnerable, out of control and I HATE being out of control. I don’t want to see anyone, especially my beautiful babies, or talk to anyone, especially my parents. I can’t be the bearer of bad news. I’m not ready to accept their strength and solidarity. Then I have to admit that its real…..really real, but not yet.

Unfortunately that task falls on my wonderful husband. He contacts our parents, says the words over and over, hears the gasps and concern. I can’t even be in the same room. I feel like I’m disappointing everyone. I don’t like this role. I’m usually the strong one, the take charge and formulate a plan one, the one reassuring everyone its going to be alright. I’m disappointing myself with my weakness. This is just the beginning of not feeling like myself. Like someone else is inhabiting my body, like its all a bad dream and I just have to figure out how to wake up and shake it off. I need to get it out of me, I can’t excise the tumour but I can excise my thoughts.

I’ve reread that brain dump a few times since. It’s dark and desolate. I almost don’t recognize that girl. She is sad, and angry and despairing, but you know what? Almost immediately I did feel lighter. Somehow seeing it in print allowed me to get control of my thoughts. Writing them down was like a love letter to myself, I was trusting myself with my innermost thoughts, things that made me vulnerable, and that trust was EMPOWERING. I could take a deep breath, stand a little taller, look myself in the eye and smile. I could see me looking back on this from the other side of this darkness and remembering how far I’ve come, how strong and capable I

really am.

The day after we told the kids my 8 year old came home from school and asked me if I knew "Fight Song"? They had played in at school and he wanted to listen to it again, so we did, many times, singing along out loud. I've adopted it as our theme song.

"This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm alright song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song" - Rachel Platten

I’m ready to fight for the life I love, and I have a whole team of supporters ready to hold me up and cheer me on. I’m ready to FIGHT LIKE A GIRL.