I'm A Believer

On October 11, 2004 I met my girlfriends for dinner, a semi-regular ritual "Girls Night Out" that has become tamer as the years have gone by, but is nevertheless a joyful and eagerly awaited event. On that night we discussed much - husbands and kids (nice to be away from them!); work and health (stress from work the main complaint); politics and religion (yeah, we're pretty brave considering we've got both staunch conservatives and die-hard liberals in our bunch). One friend offered up a thoughtful and emotional toast, celebrating my upcoming 10-year anniversary of breast cancer survivorship.

Three weeks later, on November 5, 2004, I was diagnosed with a recurrence, this time metastatic breast cancer that had spread to the bone in my skull. Celebration over.

I've now been in remission (again) for almost 3 years, a long time considering the diagnosis. The physical, psychological and spiritual fallout has been at times crushing and at times liberating. It's not just losing the feeling of invincibility, the fantasy of immortality that we all embrace most of the time that is so devastating. It's losing it after waiting so long the first time to regain it. It reminds me of when my mother would quit drinking, how excited I would get about spending time with a healthy parent, how thrilled I was that I could call her in the evenings and not end up speaking with an incoherent drunk, how I could (finally) leave my young daughter with her to enjoy her Grandma, how I BELIEVED that she was past alcoholism and I would never again have to distance myself from her lifestyle. How foolish I felt when she started up again. How silly I was to think I was cured. How hard it is not to fall for the lie again.

I used to call myself the "eternal optimist." As with many things in my life, modifications are necessary. I learned how to enjoy my mother with limits on our relationship, and she died knowing that she was loved and cherished by her firstborn. And I am now a "variable intermittent optimist," still anticipating that I'll live a long life, just not as often or in as many situations as I used to - but still a believer.