What a Difference a Year Makes!

March 15, 2012 is a day that will be etched in our family history as the day that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Of course it was the culmination of a couple of worrisome weeks with tests and scans, but for the most part, no one knew but a very small circle of people.

We got the news late in the afternoon, after a difficult day of waiting. There were just 4 of us in the room ... Mitch and I, the radiologist, and a patient navigator. The radiologist clasped my hand when I broke into tears. The navigator looked me in the eye and said, "This is not a death sentence." Mitch and I asked lots of questions. And then we began the drive home that seemed to last an eternity.

It was really important to me to choose the right words to tell the kids. I didn't want to say that we had "bad news" or that I had a "problem" ... I wanted them to hear truthful, candid words that I was diagnosed with cancer, and would be undergoing treatment. Honest words, because I knew they would be scared. And they were. Abby didn't fully understand at age 9; TJ understood way too much at age 13.

Within an hour of telling them, we pulled ourselves together and went to the incoming freshman orientation for TJ at the high school. I told Mitch to stick close and rescue me if anyone asked how I was feeling, because there were a few people who knew I'd had some doctor's appointments, but they did not know why. I didn't want to fall apart there, I just wanted to be a parent helping their child sign up for high school classes. A normal thing to do. In a normal life.

Drew was more aware of the circumstances, and was waiting for word. Hoping, like all of us, that I'd be calling to say that it was not breast cancer. But when the time drug on before I called, he knew the outcome. He knew I'd be quickly shouting from the rooftops if it wasn't cancer. He was 4 hours away at college, and I imagine it was a really rough wait for him from his perspective.

The next week was a blur of appointments, tests and scans so that I could get all of the preliminary work done and we could still go on our family spring break trip ... and then I would begin chemo shortly after we returned. The surgical oncologists office worked miracles to get everything jammed into one week that they usually schedule over a two-week period. But the Dr really wanted me to be able to do the trip as planned.

And of course, you know the rest of the story from here. Chemo, surgery, radiation, recovery. Today I am strong and healing, feeling more like myself each and every day. Hopeful for a future that includes many years with my family, and without recurrence. But while I hold hope, I am also realistic. I think my medical oncologist summed it up best when she told me, "At one year, we celebrate. At two years, we party a little bit more. But we don't really pop the champagne corks and do a happy dance until the 5 year mark."

And so one day at a time, from here forward, I live my life as a survivor. Thanks for all of your love and support, Team Lisa!