Looking for the Good Stuff

They call this a journey for a reason. The road to health and that pink survivor shirt is not for the faint of heart. Some days I feel like I'm starring in my own Lifetime movie. There are the overwrought moments where emotions run deep. Matters of life and death can hurl you into some pretty dark places. And then there are hysterically funny moments where I can't stop laughing about the absurdities that a breast cancer diagnosis brings. Being the subject of the Tumor Board, having people I don't really know ask me what cup size I'm going to choose or looking at a picture of myself and realizing that my eyebrows and eyelashes were gone...you know the drill. If you don't laugh you'll cry and some of this stuff is really funny! And finally, the intimate moments shared with my family, friends, physicians and caregivers. That's where I find the emotional meat of this experience. There are instances of such tender honesty, pathos, joy and vulnerability, but always the opportunity to say the things that matter.

This weekend Bruce and I took a walk through the neighborhood between rain and snow showers. The bright vibrant rainbows that appeared on the horizon offered the perfect metaphor to this experience. The storms of treatment can seem overwhelming but there is tremendous beauty to be found. The overwrought, funny and emotionally raw moments...that's where the good stuff is. My mom and dad, with me every step of the way, never letting me forget that I'll always be their little girl. My brother shaving his head in solidarity; and my sister moving heaven and earth to make sure she would be by my side during chemo and again after my surgery. Despite being queasy, she watched as they inserted the needle in my port for chemo and helped me with my post surgical drains. A testament to the bond sister's share. And my dear husband, holding me, letting me fall apart, and helping me figure out how to be whole again. Our kids and our friends, present with gestures large and small, their love as healing as any drug. And my Dream Team of doctors, nurses, aides and my physical therapist Andréa. When I told her I felt like my seroma was like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors and was going to devour me we started laughing and decided to name it. I chose Matilda in honor of Taylor's big adventure in Australia. And my oncologist Peter Kovach, bless his heart, offers comfort and information in equal measure. I wouldn't have been so prepared for chemotherapy were it not for his calm and reassuring demeanor. Not to mention his accommodating nature. On more than one occasion there was barely room for everyone in the exam room as I brought along an entourage of support, but be didn't skip a beat and always answered everyone's questions.

A few more storms are on the horizon...radiation starts next week and my final surgery will likely be sometime next fall. But I'm looking for the good stuff. Thanks to all of you I know where to find it.