It’s been one whole trip around the sun since we read the dreaded pathology report… “consistent with invasive ductal carcinoma.” And in these last 365 days, I feel like I’ve lived 100 different lifetimes. Newly diagnosed. Fertility planner. Chemo baldie. Breast conservation surgery advocate. Radiation breath-holding champion. Student. Educator. Survivor.
Now, the scars are fading. My irradiated skin is healed (although a little pale if you ask me). My energy is slowly returning. Life is going back to “normal,” whatever that is these days. I’ve been a little silent on the blog and on social media because a lot of my energy is going toward trying to remember what I told myself when I was first diagnosed…
YOU ARE NOT YOUR DIAGNOSIS.
Some days it’s difficult to remember who I was before cancer. Honestly, sometimes I come across an old photo and I don’t even recognize that girl! So I’m setting out to reinvent myself a bit. I’m prioritizing adventure, travel, learning new things, letting in old things that bring me joy, and not wasting one single second doing something I don’t feel passionate about…at least trying anyway.
I learned in the past year that I am fearless. I can do anything I put my mind to, but the one thing that scares me is missing out on doing the things I love and crave with the people I care about the most because of things I “should” be doing. Nothing is more important to me in this lifetime. From here on out, if it’s not a whole-hearted “yes!” for me, I’m not doing it.
You’ll likely be seeing a lot of different content from me in the future as I plan to continue the blog to share information about physical therapy, pelvic health, oncology, and other things that I feel everyone should know about. At heart, I am most passionate about teaching, sharing knowledge, and educating myself, so if you’d like to keep learning with me, I’m happy to share this space with you.
In the meantime, please keep me in your prayers as I have my “new baseline” mammogram today. As it usually works with true divine intervention, my scans are scheduled exactly on my 1 year anniversary of my diagnosis. While I feel deep down that everything’s going to look great, there’s always that tiny voice in the back of my mind saying “what if…” Honestly, I’m not sure if it will ever get easier to repeat imaging, but I’m choosing to see it as a privilege that I get to have these scans at all. God must want me here for something!
As my friend Kate says, “If you’re very lucky, life goes on.”
I hope you’ll do something that makes you feel wildly, beautifully alive today. Do it for all those we’ve loved and lost. I’m incredibly grateful for all of you.