Electing

 

    It's 4:30 on a sunny Tuesday November afternoon, and I find myself pausing to think about where my life was at this exact moment one year ago today. The news of my diagnosis had just been handed to me in my living room; simultaneously, my world shattered, yet I also summoned up the greatest hope and strength I'd ever experienced.

    The meaning of being diagnosed on Election Day is not lost on me. Politics aside, this day is granted to us on the premise of our democracy; we the people are allowed to elect, or choose, the leaders of our country. 

    My Election Day meant I had to make a choice: to crumble into a million pieces because this was the hardest thing I had ever faced, or pull myself up by the bootstraps and fight like hell. If you know me, I am not a quitter and I refuse to be disrespected. I don't back down from a challenge, and I'll be damned if something decides to come into my life and try to ruin it. This was absolutely not how I was going to go down. 

    However, reflecting upon this day last year still gives me a pit in my stomach. Lincoln and I worked on a school project in the morning that was due the next day which involved camouflaging a turkey. I remember realizing that morning that it was due the next day and felt like a total failure for a) forgetting, and b) not having any crafting supplies to make it look somewhat presentable. Not that I had anything else on my mind for the last week or anything! We resorted to hot gluing Halloween candy wrappers to the turkey because that was all I could muster while I kept checking my phone every few minutes for a missed call or text from my OB/GYN. 

    My friend Rachel and I decided we were going to take the boys out to lunch and go shopping for Christmas decorations to allow the day to go faster. I had my biopsies the Friday before, so I knew I'd be getting a call today or tomorrow. We also decided to go to Chicken Salad Chick for lunch since I'd never been. We drove all the way to Nicholasville while I tried to not check my phone every twelve seconds. We pulled in the parking lot and I checked my phone to see I'd had a missed call from my doctor. How I missed this, I do not know. I called her back, but she wasn't available to answer. We ended up texting and she simply said, "Are you free this afternoon for me to come to your house around 3:30?" At that moment, I knew what the news was going to be. I also knew my appetite was gone, and our little girl's day outing had quickly burst into flames. I don't really remember what happened next except Rachel went in to get lunch for the boys, we immediately decided we weren't going shopping for any home decor, and the next three hours were going to crawl by at a snail's pace. 

    I think moments like this where you brain literally feels different due to the adrenaline and discomfort you're feeling are your mind's way of protecting you. I was truly in "fight, flight, or freeze" mode...and I froze. But then I realized I needed to call Jeff, but I didn't want to alarm him with sobs on the phone while my kids sat in the car, oblivious to what storm we were about to walk in to. I tried calling his cell phone at least half a dozen times, only to get his voicemail. I then flashed back to when I was pregnant with Lincoln and my due date was approaching. He said, "If you can't get ahold of me, just call the plant and they'll page me." So I quickly Googled 3M's phone number and gave myself the biggest pep talk of my life to hold it together while the operator asked how she could direct my call. He answered the phone with, "This is Jeff," and my voice cracked as I said, "Hey..." I told him Lauren wanted to come to our house that afternoon at 3:30, and then asked if he could be home by then. (I chuckle at this now...I ASKED him if he could be home! Like he was going to say, "Nope honey, I have a really important meeting to be in!") 

    Rachel and I made a plan for her to keep the boys while Lauren came to the house because I didn't want them to be around as we got the news. They were 4 and 6 at the time, and we didn't want to share anything with them until we knew my treatment plan. Jeff and I nervously waited for 3:30 to roll around and kept ourselves busy with weird small talk and random pointless tasks around the house. I was, shockingly, in a "good" mood...but perhaps this was my way of coping with what was coming. 

    Lauren arrived, and I opened the door with an overly friendly, "Hey!" - like she was dropping off a suitcase full of money or something. We all sat awkwardly on the couch, and she had a folder of papers in her lap. She started off with, "You have bilateral breast cancer. It's triple negative." At the moment, I just remember looking up at the picture of our old dog Wally on the wall while muttering, "Motherfucker." Ever since my diagnostic mammograms and ultrasound I knew triple negative was really bad. I then had to ask what "bilateral" meant, and that's when she informed me I had two tumors, one in each breast. I don't remember if I cried...I don't think I did. I think I was just in total shock that no emotions were being produced except my body felt like it had all gone numb and I was no longer present. She then told me I had an appointment at UK with my surgeon the next week, and I remember telling her that was not going to work - I needed to be in this week, because in my mind waiting ten days was going to be the difference between life and death for me. She laughed and reassured me nothing was going to change in my treatment plan by waiting that long. However, we both got a laugh when I found out my surgeon is the dad of a boy I dated in high school!

    The rest of the evening was spent with some close friends who came over to talk through everything. We tried to figure out the best way to tell my coworkers, and eventually settled on me sharing the news, in person, at a staff meeting the following afternoon. Reflecting back, I'm so glad we opted to share it that way since I could answer questions and also feel the support from everyone. Although getting up in front of everyone and publicly disclosing my diagnosis made me feel incredibly vulnerable, it also helped me see that I was going to get through this. 

    So...back to Election Day. My Election Day was on a grander scale than most, but I think it's important to remember we all have our personal Election Days every day. We elect how we're going to respond to things. We elect how we handle situations. We elect how we treat people. We elect to take care of our bodies. We elect to not make excuses. We elect to make ourselves vulnerable, therefore leading to deeper and more meaningful relationships. 

    Could I have "blamed" cancer for trying to ruin my life? Absolutely. But where would that have gotten me? Probably facing death and being bedridden while hooked up to painkillers because my mindset would have been shit. That doesn't lead to positive outcomes. I certainly never "celebrated" my diagnosis, but I faced it with faith, scientific facts, and trusting my doctors and God that my treatment plan would work and I would eventually hear the words "no evidence of disease." I'm also immensely grateful that my tumors DID respond to treatment because it is not lost on me that others are not as fortunate. 

    Remember that your mindset and your faith are everything. Life is hard. None of us are immune to difficult situations. But electing to face your misfortunes with authenticity, transparency, and a whole lot of faith will get you much farther than giving up. Life is tough, but so are you.