Cansurvivor

Cansurvivor is a term my oldest daughter coined for my recovery from breast cancer. After four surgeries, chemo and radiation, I was sent home with a pat on the back on my birthday, September 25, 1990. My daughter gave me a t-shirt with the words Cansurvivor printed on the front. After 23 years, I still wear that shirt when life weighs a bit heavy. It reminds me of all I have gone through to get to this moment and all the strength I have to meet whatever life dishes out.

I recently spent time with an old friend. Martha and I have been friends since we were kids, so the history is long and deep. She is finishing up her own round with breast cancer. Our bond deepened as I welcomed her to the sisterhood of survivors. Even after all these years, knowing what I know about the disease and the emotional havoc it plays, I wept with her. There are no words to express this grief, only heartfelt tears. Her rage, her sorrow, her darkness, are real and part of the journey. I was confident that she would come through this ordeal but if I had the ability, she would have been spared.

How do you tell your dearest friend that it will never be the same, knowing that is all she wants; some semblance of what was so that all the pain was somehow rewarded. I selfishly wept for myself as well. Tears for what I lost 23 years ago, a sadness that lies beneath the surface waiting to grab you by the throat and bring you once again to your knees. There is no living in denial. It is there everyday when you take a shower or dress. A reminder that this is not a breast enhancement but a reconstruction and will never be the same.

For breast cancer survivors, our wounds run deeper than the tissue that has been removed. It robs our very core, our identity, our self image as a woman, a mother, a wife. We have to learn to reconnect ourselves with our body that is now completely foreign. Nothing feels the same, looks the same or acts the same. It doesn't fit in a bra, no cleavage, no bounce. We hide in our clothes rather than dress to impress. All of which, with time, we learn to live with, accept as best we can, and make a hell of a lot of lemonade. 

Martha will survive. She is one of the toughest women I know. Welcome to the club, my sister. You are officially a Cansurvivor! And to all those who have walked this endless mile, you know the courage it takes to look cancer in the face and flash a winning smile.

Images: Flickr image by Neo-grapher