recently had to cope (and we still are) with a catastrophic illness that has taken the lives of many and forced us all to shift our day-to-day way of life.
Personally, I’ve experienced all of the stressors many times. The most recent is breast cancer for the third time.
My first diagnosis had me hiding that this was even happening to me. I had outpatient lumpectomy surgery to extract tiny cancer cells in my right breast. My surgeon described them as smaller than grains of sand. I couldn’t wait to dive back into my normal life as quickly as possible. My immediate family encouraged this attitude because they were just as scared as I was that it could have been a lot worse.
possible. My immediate family encouraged this attitude because they were just as scared as I was that it could have been a lot worse.
The second time I received the same diagnosis three years later, I was significantly shaken up. To put it simply, I was scared. On the surface, I appeared to be coping very well that this would be a surgery just like the last one and I’d pick up my life where I left it before the second diagnosis.
My body had a different reaction. The day before my surgery, I had a severe vertigo attack. All of my life, motion sickness has been something I’ve had to deal with. Vertigo is an intense motion sickness. The symptoms appeared before I’d even gotten out of bed that morning. I rolled over, something I did every day. Yet, this time the room didn’t stop spinning. Closing my eyes helped, but the extreme nausea did not go away.
Facing the surgery again was too much for my body. Pretending on the surface that everything in my world was “just fine” was no longer an option.
The two-story tsunami wave of stress had taken over my body and everything was swirling around me. I was terrified that this time the surgery would reveal more than a few cancer cells.
I told my husband we needed to go to the ER to address the vertigo. And in the next breath, I made him promise he’d call the surgeon and make sure we could still go ahead with the surgery tomorrow. She assured him that whatever they gave me for the vertigo would not interfere with my surgery.
I’m so grateful that the second surgery has the same results as the first and out-patient surgery was all the medical intervention necessary.
My attitude, however, shifted tremendously. The gift of wisdom from that second diagnosis was a wake-up call for me to not wait any longer to shine in my own life. To share my writing and be visible to the world. And to be a resource for other women who feel invisible to find their voices to share their unique stories.
I’ve been quite happily on that path for years.