So now I'm a statistic. And it's not early either. It's the invasive, fast-growing kind. I guess everyone but me was wrong. I was extraordinarily composed when the nurse called, because I have been preparing for this for three weeks. Next week is the surgery consult, then the mastectomy, then the chemotherapy. Maybe I'll get to try out a wig with straight hair. We won't know survival rates until maybe the end of next week. No one knows how far this cancer has spread or what kind of lymph node involvement there is, just that it's in my breast tissue, not just the lump. It would be really nice just to chop off the breast, have some chemo and call it a day, but not so much if it's spread. For everyone asking what they can do, the answer right now is not to leave me alone. I'm very positive and upbeat when I'm with other people. Not so much when I'm alone.
The nurse asked me if I had questions. These are my questions: How do I go on like this? Why can't the world stop until I'm better? How will this affect my kids? How do I tell Zachary? If I make jokes about it, does that mean I'm a bad person? How do I sleep at night? (Well, actually, they gave me a prescription, so that's taken care of) Will I be there for Bailey's first day of school? How will I afford the medical bills? How will I afford to take time off work? How do I stop thinking about this? Will I ever be happy again? Why can't my children have a healthy mom?
My friend Shannon said that it's a minute by minute challenge to survive emotionally right now. So that's what I'm doing. I'm taking it minute by minute. Some minutes are good, and some minutes are bad. But at least I'm here.
I have two choices: Let it beat me down, or step up and fight for my survival. So there really is no choice, is there?