Today, I graduated.
Not from university (though I’m still working on the dissertation for my master’s degree), but from something just as difficult and just as transformational.
Today, I graduated from radiation treatments for breast cancer.
It’s been a long, hard road since getting that first, stomach-sinking call that my annual mammogram was abnormal and could I please schedule a follow-up at the diagnostic center at the hospital? Since then, I’ve been through a flurry of mammograms, ultrasounds, stereotactic biopsies … Before ultimately being sat down by my primary physician to tell me the worst.
I had breast cancer.
But how could this be? I had no family history of the disease, never took hormonal birth control, never used deodorants that contained aluminum, nor did I wear underwire bras. I breastfed my two children for 5 years collectively. I had just lost over 80 pounds, and was committed to living a healthy life. I tried to do everything right. So how could this be?
My first thought was for my young children, ages 10 and 5. I was only 41 years old; I needed to be here for them at least into adulthood. My second thought was for my own mother, whom we had lost to lung cancer 6 years prior. I knew the hole in my life that I endured without her, even as an adult. What would this do to my kids, so tender … So young? Lastly, my mind turned to all of the various strands that made up the tapestry of my life – my projects, my commitments, my goals, and my life’s work. I had too much to do, too much to finish. I wasn’t going to let this beat me.
After the shock, the research began. We had some idea of what was going on, but only the pathology report would have all of the details. After a week or so of uncertainty, we met with the highly recommended surgeon who had some excellent news. The type of cancer I had was a mucinous carcinoma of the breast. It is generally a very non-invasive cancer, and rarely spreads to the lymph nodes. The nodule that was found in my breast was very small, just over 1 cm; it was likely there only for a short period of time. As there was nothing palpable in my breast, it is not an overstatement to say that my annual mammogram saved my life.
I was diagnosed in the beginning of March, and was scheduled for a lumpectomy and a sentinel lymph node dissection at the beginning of April. We would know more about how I was doing after the surgery. Gratefully, everything went very well, and my lymph nodes were clear; I was Stage 1, Grade 1. My surgeon told me it was very likely that the cancer was already gone, but I would need to undergo further treatment to help ensure it would not return.
After a painful month of healing, I saw two oncologists. The medical oncologist did not recommend chemotherapy nor hormone therapy; I was especially grateful for the latter because I was concerned about some pretty serious side effects. The radiation oncologist put me on a course of radiation which would be administered every day, five days a week, for six weeks. Now, as I live in rural Central New York, this also meant that I would have to drive 50 miles a day, round trip, five days a week for six weeks. Music has never been so important to me!
I am also grateful for the amazing team of radiation therapists, nurses, and staff at the oncology center. Their support and gentle kindness made a very difficult physical and emotional process more bearable. What’s more, there was an incredible garden on the grounds, replete with lush vegetation, fountains and in-ground channels bearing waters from a sulfur spring renowned for its healing qualities, and an amazing hedge-encircled labyrinth. When weather permitted, I walked that labyrinth every day after treatment, and with each step I envisioned myself moving away from disease and into vibrant health and wholeness. I remained extra-long in the heart of the labyrinth today, my last day of treatment, centering myself in the knowledge that I have come to the end of this portion of my healing journey filled with insight, gratitude, and a transformed perspective about who I am, what my work is, and what things in life are truly important.
I have an excellent prognosis. I am so incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to look my mortality in the face, and be able to come away with an appreciation for the gift of time I have been given. I will have to be vigilant for the rest of my life, and certain lifestyle changes are required to support my body’s healing process and to help keep the cancer from returning. I have done more than follow the medical route of treatment; I am taking herbs and supplements and am changing my diet to remove inflammatory foods and those which contain estrogens, I am meditating and doing energy work, and — most important of all — I am working to process this experience and integrate all of the lessons it has brought to me. None of us know what the future will hold, but I feel certain that I will be here to see my children into adulthood, I will complete my master’s degree, write more books, teach more classes, make more music, learn new things. I don’t consider myself to be someone with cancer; I am someone who had cancer — and every day I pray there will be more and more of those of us who have been affected by this disease who can say the same same thing.
I had cancer.
I graduated today. (They gave me a diploma and everything!) And my life will never be the same.