Feeling like a chicken shit. I have been reading Lisa Ray’s blog http://lisaraniray.wordpress.com/ and I think I’ve missed the boat. I started this blog to inspire and inform my kids or others with inquiring minds about all kinds of “Stuff.”
I never intended to get personal and reveal too much about myself – what would be the point? Well I’m thinking that if there is something I have to say that will help someone else on a similar journey maybe I ought to stop hiding and get on board. I mean it seems selfish having beaten the odds not to share that fact.
There is a book I have recommended to my children and other people I know called the Happiness Hypothesis finding truth in Ancient Wisdom by Jonathan Haidt. One take away for everyone is that writing is cathartic and healing.
So really am I helping myself or a potential reader?
My cancer journey began in 1996; a doctor strike delayed my diagnosis by more than 6 months – with a slow growing cancer like melanoma what difference does 6 months make, who knows? Eventually I got to see a plastic surgeon who hummed at the sight of the mole on my shoulder. A biopsy excision was performed in due course, stitches checked weekly and on one of those appointments the doctor said baldly that the pathology report had come back and that I had level 4 Melanoma. My mind didn’t register any alarm initially. I also had to be scheduled to go back and remove more tissue from my shoulder to make sure that they had it all. This same “Doctor” at the same appointment then proceeded to tell me that I needed to put my affairs in order because this cancer was going to kill me and I could not beat it and he was going to refer me to an Oncologist. Suddenly it hit me and I nearly hyperventilated at the shock of it. The shock is electric like a whip reverberating through head and heart. Cancer – me? Going to die- me? I then had to crouch on the floor by the receptionist’s desk sobbing and trying to pull myself together in full view of the waiting room. Only later, much later did I think to question the Doctor’s treatment of me.
I went home & sat with my neighbour and felt absolutely horrible that she had to witness my meltdown (a woman who had buried her husband at the age of 40 from cancer) I couldn’t speak to my husband until he got home and I had to pretend all was well with my children ages 10 & 13.
Once the initial trauma was over the real work began. My life’s book had a new cover. Never, ever again would my life be untouched by Cancer.
I must credit Lisa Ray for this Mind Tickle which resonates deeply in me.
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