I have mentioned before that I am a recent breast cancer survivor, as in, I finished chemo in April and radiation in July. And to be perfectly honest, I am still processing what happened. That sounds so together and spoken like a true counselor, but in reality, it's my easy way of saying, "Don't want to ride that crazy train again!" But often, just when I get back into my life groove, something sparks a reminder, and I have to figure out how it all fits together.
My very dear, darling, baby sister struggled through much of this year with me, and as soon as she saw the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure fundraiser was beginning, she pushed me to start a team. Two weeks later, I did. It took me that long to get through the anxiety about having to talk about my situation in order to raise money for the worthy cause. What? Kind of pretentious, huh? Maybe at face value, but I am a muller (I need to mull things over), and believe it or not, if I'm going to be noticed, I want it to be for the right reasons. Any attention makes me nervous. It's not that I don't like it. I just get anxious.
Now I'm excited and I've sent out e-mails to bring my participation to people's attention, so they can donate if they would like. Oh, by the by, if you would like to donate to my team "I Pink, Therefore I Am," please go to http://www.komenlexington.org/site/PageServer?pagename=home. I would appreciate your generosity.
Yet it's not all positive, at least to me. Often people say things in a very, very uplifting and positive way, and they definitely mean everything from the heart. What I'm trying to say before I get to my point is that the blame is all mine in how I take it in.
One of the kindest people I have ever met was trying to explain that she was glad I was *here.* In order to get to that, she explained that she'd lost her sister-in-law a few years ago. I take that very seriously. I expressed my very real sympathy, and tried to gracefully excuse myself. But she went on to say she was okay with her sister-in-law's passing because, in her mind, what they learned from that saved my life. She is right. They learn from every failure as well as each success, but my heart broke. My own mother-in-law died from breast cancer, and that loss was devastating. I don't want to piggyback on that misery. I can't celebrate that.
Of course, I was gracious and smiled. That was the right thing to do, and I'm all about doing the right thing, and I know she only meant well.
To end positively, I have also been told, at another time, that I'm a walking miracle. At first, I cringed. I'm just me, and the reason I'm still walking is because of my doctors and God (thus the miracle, Sherry, duh). So I mulled this over and realized, it's not all about me. If someone wants to call me a walking miracle whether I had anything to do with it or not, then there it is--I'm a walking miracle. Thank you, Good Lord above!
This blog is obviously very personal, and has been mulling around in my brain for a couple weeks (yep, that's me). The point is, in time, I will know how to talk about breast cancer. I am now coming out of my keep-it-in phase, and I can ease up on letting my heart hear others' words in it's own twisted way. Life is too important to be wasting much time mulling, so cue end of blog. :0)