Blessings to you from a sister in the world of ductal carcinoma. I was diagnosed at age 40 (am now 67), double mastectomy. The diagnosis slayed me, and the surgery/results (even with very good reconstruction) was still A LOT. Be good to yourself. You have been through something monumental. And also…it could have been a lot worse. Tricky stuff to balance. One little anecdote that might bring a smile…I was once randomly selected to be frisked in the airport security line. The female “frisker” warned me she’d have to touch my breasts. I smiled and told her they weren’t real. Speechless is a mild way of describing her reaction. So…there’s that. 🤷🏼♀️
I love that you found humor in a ridiculous situation. I've done the same with a different kind of loss and the subsequent bullshit. It's a big part of the healing process.
Thank you, Nadia. We've been praying, and now know what for. As a relatively healthy, (age-adjusted) 85 year old, I know there's something out there with my name on it. I can read actuarial tables, so I know it's not distant. That our year old terrier will likely outlive me. I don't know what it's like to be as young as you are and meet that unwelcome nemesis, and, as a male, I don't know what it must be like to lose your breasts. What I have experienced is the countless ways our self-image gets whittled away, until you begin to understand what the Zen people mean when they talk about losing the self. I'm glad you have a relatively non-aggressive cancer, because, as a retired priest/preacher, I revel in the way you take our sacred vocation and make it laugh and sing.
Four years ago last month, the love of my life was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. She moved to Memory Care last March and is now at stop# 6 of a 7 stop slow train to glory. I relearn acceptance every fucking day.
Selfishly, I am grateful you never used the word "fight" in your piece. My kids and grandchildren said "We are going to fight this!" We? Fight? It has been 5 years in recovery and I never, for a single day, fought cancer. If cancer wanted to kick my ass down a flight of stairs, it could and would, easily. I acccepted cancer. It was a part of me. Still is. Even though it is gone. My 12 step program of recovery taught me acceptance. The hard way. I am of the "kicking and screaming" variety. My faith never waivered as I wobbled. Thank you, Nadia, for being a blessing in my life. ~ Dwight Lee Wolter
Thank you for sharing your journey. I have been walking alongside my mother who has advanced dementia and a tendency towards narcissism. It has been 8 years so far. I am just now realizing that I am being called to accept all of her. To look beyond her behavior to see the wounded child within and love her deeply. I pray for wisdom and insight. I think I will start carrying a stone in my pocket as a daily reminder. ❤️
"And I’m pleased to say that I have basically the stupidest kind of cancer. It’s real dumb. Like 95% chance it can’t even remember where I live, much less how to break into my house again. I’m thrilled to report my cancer resembles me in my 20s: pretty destructive, but lacks both motivation and follow-through. So, no other treatment needed!" - omg, girl, this! And also this: "p.s.- I’ve been asking for folks to please refrain from sharing things with me like: natural remedies, anecdotes about people you know who have had breast cancer (unless it’s you!), and I can’t state this strongly enough… anything with pink ribbons." Thank you Nadia. Only love - only gigantic LOVE!
"I’m not sure I could ever earn the trust you have in me." I'm also following Bo Sanders in a devotional by Hanna Reichel called For Such A Time As This-An Emergency Devotional. Today's conversation was about words and how they are a vehicle to move thoughts and ideas into language that is first spoken and then understood and shared. Your words sure, earn, trust and me all express previous thoughts and ideas then acted upon and shared with untold others as well as us. Bo's analogy was when water vapor becomes fluid and then turns to a solid that can be touched, grasped, and held by others. This is what you've done over the recent months and years. It is the gift that you have given to all of us. It's wonderful to hear from you, again!
Laughing through my tears, at the shit-sandwich-on-white-or-wheat. Thank you for not minimizing and not exaggerating it. It's terrifying, but thank God it's a dumb cancer. Love you, Nadia, and am so thankful you're ok.
I know I’ll end up using the shit sandwich but do you want it on white or wheat for some other misfortune. I’m moving into the phase of life where a lot of those sandwiches are being handed out.
At my age, I need to fully accept that my circle of living, healthy friends and loved ones is getting smaller and will continue to do so. A friend of my wife’s calls it “entering The Room.” At age 72, I have called it the first scene of the final act in my life story. Yes, I have made new friends, but, so far at least, the relationships are nice, but lack the deep roots of the other, older ones. I really thought that I would be pretty good at this acceptance process, but my oldest friend’s uneven path of recovery from three surgeries for glioblastoma is surely testing that assumption.
Same diagnosis, same decision here (mastectomy, a single in my case, no radiation or chemo). Also had a stupid cancer, very grateful for that. And you can choose to do the hormone therapy or not, and I chose not. In re nipples, my breast surgeon advised me that insurance will often pay for a nipple tattoo, as women who get them often have better mental health post mastectomy. She advised, with a straight face, that if I were interested in a tattoo that I could also consider a dragon. In your case, maybe a flaming cherubim? Godspeed
Thank you for sharing what has been going on with you - it's a LOT! So pleased to hear that you are on the other side of this exhausting recovery and with clean nodes(!) because selfishly I want you around reminding me of what Grace and faith look like in real time, for many many more years. Careful hugs to you XO
Nadia, yours are words wrested from you step by step. Any wonder they're called the 12 steps! Your sharing of the stages of your diagnosis to treatment should be required reading. I've taken them to heart. Next month, the two year efficacy of Aricept comes to an end and the Alzheimer's it has been diminishing will be given free reign. I ponder all the questions of mortality, how to proceed, where faith is for me (a pastor). Scott Peck's quote sums it up well. I'll take your witness with me as I enter the wilderness; I may be to find a parallel process to walking across England! My prayers continue for your recovery and rediscovery of the depths which have been revealed. Thank you.
In the words of dear Richard Rohr, may we all learn to forgive reality (and be more accepting). Thanks for sharing ❤️
Of everything beautiful and heartbreaking and funny (nod to the “shit sandwich”) in your writing, this made me tear up:
“I’m not sure I could ever earn the trust you have in me.”
You already have earned our trust by showing us the messy heart of truly loving Jesus.
Acceptance. ❤️ ❤️
Ditto!
Amen.
Blessings to you from a sister in the world of ductal carcinoma. I was diagnosed at age 40 (am now 67), double mastectomy. The diagnosis slayed me, and the surgery/results (even with very good reconstruction) was still A LOT. Be good to yourself. You have been through something monumental. And also…it could have been a lot worse. Tricky stuff to balance. One little anecdote that might bring a smile…I was once randomly selected to be frisked in the airport security line. The female “frisker” warned me she’d have to touch my breasts. I smiled and told her they weren’t real. Speechless is a mild way of describing her reaction. So…there’s that. 🤷🏼♀️
I love that you found humor in a ridiculous situation. I've done the same with a different kind of loss and the subsequent bullshit. It's a big part of the healing process.
I have said that I can tell you it’s cold outside, but I can’t show you.
Reconstruction was not for me.
And the surgery WAS NOT a weight loss program. 🥴
Thank you, Nadia. We've been praying, and now know what for. As a relatively healthy, (age-adjusted) 85 year old, I know there's something out there with my name on it. I can read actuarial tables, so I know it's not distant. That our year old terrier will likely outlive me. I don't know what it's like to be as young as you are and meet that unwelcome nemesis, and, as a male, I don't know what it must be like to lose your breasts. What I have experienced is the countless ways our self-image gets whittled away, until you begin to understand what the Zen people mean when they talk about losing the self. I'm glad you have a relatively non-aggressive cancer, because, as a retired priest/preacher, I revel in the way you take our sacred vocation and make it laugh and sing.
Four years ago last month, the love of my life was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. She moved to Memory Care last March and is now at stop# 6 of a 7 stop slow train to glory. I relearn acceptance every fucking day.
I can see the words on the bumper sticker: I'm accepting every F-ing day. ❤️ Beautiful
Much love to you
Selfishly, I am grateful you never used the word "fight" in your piece. My kids and grandchildren said "We are going to fight this!" We? Fight? It has been 5 years in recovery and I never, for a single day, fought cancer. If cancer wanted to kick my ass down a flight of stairs, it could and would, easily. I acccepted cancer. It was a part of me. Still is. Even though it is gone. My 12 step program of recovery taught me acceptance. The hard way. I am of the "kicking and screaming" variety. My faith never waivered as I wobbled. Thank you, Nadia, for being a blessing in my life. ~ Dwight Lee Wolter
How beautifully put.
Thank you for sharing your journey. I have been walking alongside my mother who has advanced dementia and a tendency towards narcissism. It has been 8 years so far. I am just now realizing that I am being called to accept all of her. To look beyond her behavior to see the wounded child within and love her deeply. I pray for wisdom and insight. I think I will start carrying a stone in my pocket as a daily reminder. ❤️
"And I’m pleased to say that I have basically the stupidest kind of cancer. It’s real dumb. Like 95% chance it can’t even remember where I live, much less how to break into my house again. I’m thrilled to report my cancer resembles me in my 20s: pretty destructive, but lacks both motivation and follow-through. So, no other treatment needed!" - omg, girl, this! And also this: "p.s.- I’ve been asking for folks to please refrain from sharing things with me like: natural remedies, anecdotes about people you know who have had breast cancer (unless it’s you!), and I can’t state this strongly enough… anything with pink ribbons." Thank you Nadia. Only love - only gigantic LOVE!
Yes! Yes! Yes!
"I’m not sure I could ever earn the trust you have in me." I'm also following Bo Sanders in a devotional by Hanna Reichel called For Such A Time As This-An Emergency Devotional. Today's conversation was about words and how they are a vehicle to move thoughts and ideas into language that is first spoken and then understood and shared. Your words sure, earn, trust and me all express previous thoughts and ideas then acted upon and shared with untold others as well as us. Bo's analogy was when water vapor becomes fluid and then turns to a solid that can be touched, grasped, and held by others. This is what you've done over the recent months and years. It is the gift that you have given to all of us. It's wonderful to hear from you, again!
Thank you, Steve
Laughing through my tears, at the shit-sandwich-on-white-or-wheat. Thank you for not minimizing and not exaggerating it. It's terrifying, but thank God it's a dumb cancer. Love you, Nadia, and am so thankful you're ok.
I know I’ll end up using the shit sandwich but do you want it on white or wheat for some other misfortune. I’m moving into the phase of life where a lot of those sandwiches are being handed out.
At my age, I need to fully accept that my circle of living, healthy friends and loved ones is getting smaller and will continue to do so. A friend of my wife’s calls it “entering The Room.” At age 72, I have called it the first scene of the final act in my life story. Yes, I have made new friends, but, so far at least, the relationships are nice, but lack the deep roots of the other, older ones. I really thought that I would be pretty good at this acceptance process, but my oldest friend’s uneven path of recovery from three surgeries for glioblastoma is surely testing that assumption.
Same diagnosis, same decision here (mastectomy, a single in my case, no radiation or chemo). Also had a stupid cancer, very grateful for that. And you can choose to do the hormone therapy or not, and I chose not. In re nipples, my breast surgeon advised me that insurance will often pay for a nipple tattoo, as women who get them often have better mental health post mastectomy. She advised, with a straight face, that if I were interested in a tattoo that I could also consider a dragon. In your case, maybe a flaming cherubim? Godspeed
Thank you for sharing what has been going on with you - it's a LOT! So pleased to hear that you are on the other side of this exhausting recovery and with clean nodes(!) because selfishly I want you around reminding me of what Grace and faith look like in real time, for many many more years. Careful hugs to you XO
Whether good news or bad, thank you for showing the way.
Also...
"I’m thrilled to report my cancer resembles me in my 20s: pretty destructive, but lacks both motivation and follow-through." BWAHAHAHAHA
Delighted to hear from you.
Standing in solidarity as you heal.
Things I have to accept...unfortunately there is a length limit on the comments...I know where to begin...but I can't utter the words...
As I wrote in my response to Eric's quote, I have been contemplating Julian of Norwich:
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well".
Love,
Tom
❤️😍💕
I hope you get there - wherever that is.
Breathing it in; breathing it out
Sending love
❤️😍💕
Nadia, yours are words wrested from you step by step. Any wonder they're called the 12 steps! Your sharing of the stages of your diagnosis to treatment should be required reading. I've taken them to heart. Next month, the two year efficacy of Aricept comes to an end and the Alzheimer's it has been diminishing will be given free reign. I ponder all the questions of mortality, how to proceed, where faith is for me (a pastor). Scott Peck's quote sums it up well. I'll take your witness with me as I enter the wilderness; I may be to find a parallel process to walking across England! My prayers continue for your recovery and rediscovery of the depths which have been revealed. Thank you.
Steve Engelhardt