38 Days: Hope On The Horizon
As I sat on the edge of the guest room bed at my family’s beach house, window directly in front of me with the sunshine beaming through, two sandy feet perched on the white sill, my eyes welled up with tears and my body went numb. I momentarily felt myself choking for air. It was a moment frozen in time that I will never forget.
What did she just say? This can’t be happening? Is this for real?
Those were the thoughts that flashed through my mind on May 9th when I answered the phone and heard one of my best girlfriends tell me she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. My world stopped turning, time stood still, and when the numbness subsided the first feeling that surfaced was hope. I felt hopeful.
According to Merriam-Webster, hope means “to cherish a desire with anticipation : to want something to happen or be true.”
I wanted my best girlfriend to be healed…immediately.
Lately I have been feeling hopeful about so many things. Maybe it’s the onset of summer. Maybe it’s my optimism showing itself during such challenging times. Maybe it’s just a feeling. But damn it, I’ll take hopeful any day over the alternatives. I’ll blow that positive energy out into the world through a damn fire hose with unlimited reach every day if need be! I’ve been feeling hopeful about finding love again, hopeful about what the Universe has in store for me, hopeful that we can find ways to set aside our differences in this world and accept one another as is regardless of size, shape, color, location, religious or political beliefs, and most importantly, in the here and now, hopeful that my girlfriend will be healed and be well.
Cancer really does suck.
It has impacted my life over and over again, and I am sure many of you as well, as loved ones have been diagnosed, battled, won, and in some cases, have sadly lost their fight. In my world, there is the before and there is the after when it comes to the “C” word. In all cases, there is forever change.
After discussions with her family and team of oncologists and surgeons, my girlfriend made her decision. She would have a double mastectomy in an effort to reduce the risk of the cancer returning. And so just last Monday, a mere 37 days after she shared her news with me and a mere 38 days after being diagnosed, she did just that.
Since hearing her words, “I have breast cancer”, I knew I would be on a flight and by her side when the time came. When someone you love is going through something so freakin hard, you do whatever you can to show up. The Registered Nurse in me wanted to provide care and offer support. The friend in me wanted to be there by her side following her surgery. The human in me wanted to provide relief to her husband and her, to my friends, to just be together, to love one another, and not worry about schedules and medications and all the things. I simply wanted to BE THERE. My inner voice called and I did not hesitate to listen.
My plane landed last Tuesday morning, the day following her surgery. Leading up to the trip I had been feeling a bit anxious, not knowing what to fully expect. I had been thinking about all the “what if’s”. You know, that energy suck of the “what if”. What if I break down and cry when I see my friend? What if the surgery does not have the best possible outcome? What if I say the wrong thing? What if there are issues that arise after the surgery? What if…what if…what if? But after getting quiet with myself through meditation, I came back to my foundation, my belief that the Universe gives us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it. I let go of the anxiety, stopped wasting my energy on the unknown and the uncontrollable, and made the conscious decision to show up for my friend, to love her, to care for her, and to know that the rest would fall into place.
As a Registered Nurse, when you love the person you are caring for, when they are like family to you, when you see them going through times that challenge them physically, emotionally, and mentally, it’s a very different feeling than providing that same care to a patient who is removed from your inner circle.
Upon arrival, in typical fashion, my full of energy, full of life, full of awesomeness girlfriend greeted me with a giant smile. Was it the after effects of the anesthesia? Maybe it was the pain meds? I didn’t care. I was so overwhelmed with relief to see her, hug her, love her, know she was OK, and simply be there.
Why does it seem that cancer hits the best of the best humans in this life?
Honestly, one day bled into the next for me this past week. Most of it is a blur. Her amazingly supportive and loving husband and I worked together to make sure that she had her medications on time, that her pain was under control, that her drains were emptied, that she was eating, that she was resting, that she was as comfortable as she could be. She and I shared tears and laughter, tissues and hugs, and the rollercoaster of all the emotions you might imagine. I got to spend time with one of my besties reminiscing and remembering and we got to spend time together talking and processing how she was feeling emotionally and mentally.
Can you even imagine? One day you are alive and well and then 38 days later you wake up and both breasts have been removed? What the fuck is that?
That is cancer.
That is the before and after.
One of the conversations that sticks with me the most was when my girlfriend and I talked about how there was no time to think between diagnosis and surgery. In those 38 days there were countless doctors appointments, a lot of information thrown at her and her husband, a lot of reacting, and minimal, if any, processing of what was actually happening.
Cancer was happening, and cancer will tear your world up like a fucking tornado. It had arrived, announced itself, then tore through her world in a matter of 38 days leaving her sitting there in the wreckage. No time to think. No time to process. No time to make sense of it all. And so we talked about THAT and how now that the surgery was over, there would be quiet and rest and recovery and time to think. Time to work through her emotions, time to process things, and time to begin to heal both inside and out.
When my girlfriend told me the oncologist had called on Wednesday while I was in a work meeting, I felt myself hold my breath. And when she shared with me the news that there was no cancer found in the two lymph nodes removed and that she was officially cancer free, well, there are no words to even fully express how it felt to receive that news. Overwhelmed with joy. Overwhelmed with relief. Overwhelmed with gratitude. SO FUCKING HAPPY. Tears flowed and giant smiles beamed and there was a celebration!
As I sit here and write this now to share with you, my eyes are welling up thinking back to a small moment caught in time that day, watching my bestie and her husband embrace and share a kiss and an I love you. The relief was palpable. The emotions were raw. The love was so real. It was simply beautiful.
I was reminded last week that this one life we get to live is not guaranteed and so we best live it to the fullest every damn day before our time is up.
I was reminded that people are good and that they want to help other people. The outpouring of love and support from family and friends far and wide and neighbors nearby visiting, providing meals, and offering support was breathtaking.
I was reminded that often times just showing up and holding space for someone is enough.
As my plane took off to head home, we ascended up up and away through turbulence, through dark, stormy skies and heavy rains. When we finally weathered the storm and broke through the clouds, there was nothing but clear, blue, open skies. Perfection was on the horizon for as far as the eye could see. It was like seeing heaven far off in the distance. In that moment, I had my very own first, true moment in time to process all that had happened that week. I cried tears of relief and joy and happiness and gratitude on that airplane. I was reminded how fragile life can be and how powerful the Universe truly is.
Sometimes life hands us REALLY hard shit. Sometimes we experience turbulence and dark, stormy skies along the way. But when we are lucky enough to break through the clouds, when we are lucky enough to weather the storm, when we see blue skies on the horizon for as far as the eye can see, we realize that sometimes hanging onto hope is all we need to do.
Hope is all around you. Grab onto it. Embrace it. Hang on to it for dear life.
Hopefully, blue skies are just ahead.
