Tragedy Strikes

On the evening of Easter Sunday, I sat down to check my email. I had one from one of my Redwood City mom friends, and I was happy to see her name in the list. I was happy until I saw the subject line: (Forwarded with permission from Allison T) I have cancer.
My heart stopped. Allison T. Another mommy friend. Has cancer. I opened it up immediately, skipping the other two messages that were above it. My friend, Fleur, had prefaced the forwarded message briefly, but I skipped that part and got busy reading the details that Allison had sent out to the parents at her daughter's preschool co-op.
She has breast cancer. A grape-sized lump she found herself. She was still breastfeeding her baby when she discovered the lump. The cancer was invasive and aggressive. She would be undergoing a double mastectomy Monday (the following morning), and will start chemo in May.
As I finished reading the email, with tears streaming down my face, my heart ached. My friend has cancer. My friend who's children are the same age as my own. My friend who is the same age as my sister. My friend who is in amazing shape, who doesn't drink or smoke or eat unhealthy foods. My friend who has no history of breast cancer in her family. My friend who is still too young to get a mammogram. She has cancer. Tomorrow, she will have no breasts. The breasts she used to feed her babies will be gone. And soon she will have no hair.
Still, Allison sounded brave. She sounded ready to fight. Hard. Ready to do what ever it was going to take to fight the cancer growing in her breast. Ready to fight it and win so she could live her life like she had envisioned. Ready to fight so she could help raise her two beautiful daughters together with her husband.
Having just recently watched how cancer and the treatments that go along with fighting it can ravage a body and slowly chip away at the spirit, my heart was breaking for my friend and her young family. I spent the next 48 hours in constant thought about my friend Allison and the battle she was facing. I thought about the abruptness of such a diagnosis. I thought about my own baby, still breastfeeding, and the sorrow I had been feeling about our inevitable weaning. Then I thought about the idea of weaning by mastectomy. I thought about the idea of being forced to cut off part of you own body just to have a chance to live.
The main reason I started blogging was to help me remember my blessings... to help me remember to be grateful every day. There are days when I am able to live with gratitude in my heart. Other days, not so much. And sometimes, something happens that jolts me awake, as if to say, "YOU ARE SO LUCKY! JUST LOOK AT YOUR LIFE! REMEMBER!"
Allison's mastectomy went smoothly, and she seems to be recuperating well. There is no sign of cancer in the surrounding lymph tissue, which indicates that the cancer has not metastasized. She sounds like she is doing well. Still, I know that there is still a long fight ahead. The chemo she faces will cause her to go into immediate menopause in addition to the other side effects normally caused by such treatment. Physically, she faces further surgeries to repair her chest and make her look womanly again. My friend is strong and she is determined, and I think she will beat this thing. I do not look forward to the battles she has to fight. It's a difficult road ahead.
I am so grateful for my health and the health of my family. I am grateful that we are not the ones in the trenches fighting this battle. And I am grateful for the reminders I am given every day to be grateful for my many blessings.