More Than A Chapter

If I were to write all of the life-changing experiences I've been through, it would take up more than a chapter. More than a whole book, to be precise. 

2020 has been a hard year for the majority of us. With COVID-19 impacting our lives in ways we never could have imagined, things are difficult enough. But then when other trying situations are added to our plates, life tends to become overwhelming. Many people have lost their jobs or businesses. They don't know where their next paychecks are coming from. Some have lost loved ones to the virus or have contracted it themselves. Life feels unstable.

While my family has managed to stay free of COVID-19 (for now), and my husband is still employed, other tragic events have transpired for us.

Earlier this year, my younger son went into the hospital for status epilecticus. If you don't know what that is, it's a seizure that last more than 5 minutes and can prove life threatening. In his case, it was. After a six-day hospital stay, he passed away. I was (and still am) devastated. I have spent the last six months doing a whole lot of grief work, as well as writing through the pain. 

In April of this year, my identity was stolen. Compared with my loss--and what the summer would bring--it seems quite small. But it was extremely stressful to navigate the red tape of reporting it and filing police paperwork in order to press charges. It was the last thing I needed. 

In early July, my older son had major surgery and is still recovering. He had his surgery in the same hospital where my younger son spent his last days. It was triggering at times. 

But the year wasn't through with me. Not by a long-shot. I had my annual mammogram this past Tuesday. I have a two-time history with breast cancer (DCIS and ADH), so I always get a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound every year. They found something suspicious: two masses in my right breast. They sent me for an urgent biopsy the next day. On Friday, I found out I have invasive ductal carcinoma. The radiologist speculates it is borderline stage 2. 

I knew this was coming. I really did. For thirteen years, I cared for my younger son who was medically fragile and completely reliant on my husband, older son, and me. To cope with stress, I indulge in sugar (which I know is super horrible in terms of feeding cancer). So I wasn't surprised. But that's not to say I wasn't shocked. This is a huge blow. How can I possibly continue to grieve for my son, take care of my older teen, and live with this new diagnosis, all while trying to nurture my writing business? 

Well, I have some tools in my toolkit--ones I think the Universe has put in my path while I've done some of the grief work over my kiddo's death. So I am going into this journey with a positive outlook. Does that mean I won't cry? No. Does it mean I won't have bad days? Not at all. Does it mean this will be easy? I expect it to be quite hard. 

But I think this third round of cancer is a wake-up call. My body and consciousness are telling me to reevaluate my life, so I plan to do it with a lot of soul-searching and self care. 

On Monday, I have to call a breast surgeon and get in as soon as possible. I'm not sure if my cancer truly is stage 1 or 2. It's possible it's elsewhere in my body. But I will take it one step at a time. I keep telling myself not to worry. (I am a huge worrier--always battling anxiety). But I am not in the surgeon's office right now. I am sitting in front of computer, in the comfort of my home, doing one of the things I love to do, which is write. So I will practice staying in the moment, taking this journey through grief and breast cancer one step at a time.