Being A Survivor

Its about to get heavy in here for a minute or two.

I debated writing this.  Partially because its just plain hard to write this kind of stuff down.  And partially because admitting to some of it feels a bit like I am letting people down.  But I really want this blog to be a reflection of life as a survivor - and this is just part of that.  So buckle up kids.

In many, many ways, Saturday night was amazing.  The most amazing night of my life.  But in many, very unexpected, ways, it was crazy hard.

Survivor guilt is real.  And for every moment I looked around that party and felt so grateful for my life, and for being in remission, I couldn't help but think of those who didn't win their fight.  Two of my very best friends have lost their mothers.  One of my closest friends lost her best friend.  Another her mother-in-law.  Why do I get to survive when these amazing women didn't?  And why were we too late in this battle for them to survive?  And why do I get to rejoice when so many have to cry?

Its a heart-wrenching way to feel.  To feel like your happiness comes at the cost of others'.

And its just damn confusing.  Like you want to laugh and have your heart fall out at the same time, in the middle of a dance floor.

Being a survivor is scary too.  Once you've dealt with cancer, a headache is never really just a headache.  And being tired is never just fatigue.  The question "is it back" is always there somewhere.  Even if you think its buried well beneath the surface.

But when I received my BRCA1 diagnosis, that fear escalated.  Don't get me wrong - I don't walk around feeling like I have time bombs strapped to my chest.  But I do understand the risk I'm taking by not having a mastectomy.  Greg and I have talked too often about how likely it is that mine will be a shortened life.  And in weeks like this one - when I have a mammogram and MRI scheduled for Thursday and a follow-up with Dr. Bear the next week - the fear can be down-right palpable.  Because I am all too aware that if I hear that I have cancer again, I'm hearing it from Dr. Bear.  And every time I see him I will be scared that that is what I will hear.  

I feel badly admitting that to anyone - but especially here.  Because I do have faith in the research being done.  And I do believe we are on our way to a cure.  But cancer has changed me - in good and annoying ways.   And Saturday night brought strong, deep reminders of both.

But I wouldn't change that.  For anything.