13 Years and Still Going Strong
Celebrating Anniversaries Feels Good
“I had experienced surgeries prior to this, and I have experienced surgeries since. I have always felt like I was in recovery for a hot minute and then was on my way. This time was different. My pain was beyond control. The initial plan involved dedicating three hours to the removal of my breasts, followed by another 3 hours for placing expanders and injecting saline, then an hour or two in recovery, and finally, making my way home. If that sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. To the best of my knowledge, a mastectomy is no longer an outpatient surgery, but in 2011, apparently, the insurance companies called the shots. Those companies were run by men who only conceptualized boobs as something created for their pleasure. At any rate, I can tell you unequivocally that sending people home following this surgery is not a great idea.
At some point, the nurses in the recovery room moved my bed to another area because they needed the room in recovery. It looked like they might have to admit me. I couldn’t wiggle my toes without uttering something between a whimper and a moan. I’m not sure how many pain meds they put in my IV, but they seemed to have no effect on the pain. Going through labor and delivery was a breeze compared to this. Fortunately, I drifted in and out of consciousness. That single factor prevented me from being overwhelmed by constant pain. At one point, I remember hearing my mom tell them, “My daughter has the highest pain threshold of anyone I know. If she says she can’t go home, she needs to be admitted.” In the end, that is what happened.”
It was November 21, 2011, and I was as scared as I had ever been. I was a single mom with two teenagers still living at home when I received a breast cancer diagnosis that October. This was the beginning of a journey I would have preferred not to take, but I had made what I hoped was the best decision for me and the only thing to do was to walk through the proverbial eye of the storm.
On average, every two minutes a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer in the United States, and 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer in their lifetime (nationalbreastcancer.org). I was 46 years old when I was diagnosed, and it turns out I had quite a bit of company. Adults aged 25-49 contribute around a tenth (9%) of all new cancer cases (my.clevelandclinic.org). I thought I was too young to have cancer, but at the clinic I met women much younger than me who were already in the fight for their lives. The truth is that I knew very little about cancer until I was diagnosed.
My doctor sent me for annual mammograms beginning at age 35 because I had a family history, but I was surprised to learn that only “15% of women diagnosed have a family history of breast cancer” (nationalbreastcancer.org). This was one of many things I learned during this journey, and only a fraction of them were about the cancer itself; cancer had a lot to teach me about life.
The excerpt I shared above described my worldview on the day of my surgery, and that was just the beginning of a difficult year. In my life, I have experienced the most growth during challenging times. This was my vision as I wrote this memoir. I didn’t want to write just another sad cancer story, but instead a story of hope and resilience.
Today, I celebrate 13 years cancer-free and things look so different. I am filled with gratitude that I am healthy, but I am also grateful for the journey. I would not be the person I am today with the life I get to enjoy if not for all that I have been through.
My name is Angela and I am a grateful cancer survivor!