There’s a Bullet Out There With My Name On It

Or, how I finally stopped taking my good health for granted and started to live like I was dying.

I didn’t always acknowledge what a privilege it was to be healthy — okay, I probably never realized it throughout the decades of my youth and the early to mid-years of adulthood. I took my health for granted. I definitely didn’t appreciate the fact that I enjoyed many good years of healthy living — perhaps more than the average person can boast. I was blessed with very good health for so many years. I could easily keep my weight in check — dieting for me meant trying (and succeeding) to lose ten pounds seemingly overnight. I had no chronic illnesses, no serious accidents or injuries and no real reasons to see a doctor other than routine check-ups. Except for a brief episode in my early forties when my gallbladder went on the fritz and had to be removed, I had never seen the inside of a hospital for any reason other than to visit a sick friend or relative. Even then, I recovered with impressive speed. I was always physically fit and found exercise to be just an element of how I lived and enjoyed my life. I never “had” to exercise to keep in shape. My active lifestyle took care of that. Yes, I was spoiled by a healthy body that I took for granted more often than not. In fact, I sometimes found it annoying to look at others and wonder why they couldn’t just get their act together and live their lives on the same strong level that I was living mine. I didn’t abuse my body — that’s not what I mean by taking my good health for granted. I ate right and, as I said, found exercise to be just another part of daily living. I never smoked, I drank wine in moderation and did not pursue dangerous sports or activities. I thought that was just the way life was supposed to be lived.

A Crisis May be Just a Phone Call Away. Life can change — sometimes forever — in a split second. It might be a freak accident, a life-altering decision made by a significant other or, as in my case, the ringing of the telephone. I was still dancing my way merrily through my charmed life, giving no serious thought to the recent callback for a biopsy after a “routine” mammogram, when a phone call shattered my Pollyanna view of my health forever. In a nutshell, I was unceremoniously informed that my biopsy had revealed the unthinkable — I had breast cancer.

I doubt that there is a woman alive who doesn’t shudder at the thought of hearing these words. I suspect that most of us prefer to keep the details of such a diagnosis at arm’s length. Unless we are personally involved with a loved one dealing with breast cancer, most women, like myself, just want to hang on to the thought that breast cancer happens to “other women.” Well, I am that other woman. It happened to me and for the initial weeks, maybe months, after diagnosis, I shuddered at the horrible possibilities that plagued my brain on an hourly basis. (especially the dark hours between midnight and 6:00 A.M.) My perfect health was not only no longer perfect — in my mind, it was destroyed!

Time (always) Creates a New Perspective — Both Good and Bad. I’ll spare you the blow by blow description of how I faced those first few months. I was one of the “lucky” ones (strange way to describe a breast cancer diagnosis, I know) in that my cancer was caught early, Stage 1A. There was no lymph node involvement and no metastasis throughout my body. A “simple” lumpectomy, followed by radiation and some follow-up medication set me on the track of recovery. I never mean to minimize any part of this experience. It was hell! I read too much, learned too much (some of it true and some of it questionable) about treatments and prognosis for breast cancer in the twenty-first century. I spent too much time over-thinking about how this could possibly happen to me!

But today, nearly four years after my diagnosis, I live my life pretty much like I did before the diagnosis. I can’t officially declare myself “cured,” even though I tend to think of myself that way. I don’t even know what that means anymore. Today, I have excellent blood work, my scans show everything is clean and my doctors tell me my prognosis is excellent. I can’t help but think back to that day, nearly four years ago, when life changed forever in less than twenty-four hours. I no longer make any assumptions about what the next twenty-four hours can bring. Oh, did I mention that, when I say I live my life pretty much like I did before the diagnosis, there is one caveat to that statement — I live my life — day by day — like I did before — fully aware that this day is unique — tomorrow will be unique as well — just maybe not in a the way I would hope.

We All Know We Are Mortal — We Just Don’t Want to Face Mortality Right Now. We all learn and experience death pretty early in life. It is usually a family member, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, maybe someone in the immediate family. There aren’t too many intelligent, rational people who do not realize the Grim Reaper comes for us all — Eventually. I suspect that most of us do not foresee our demise anywhere in the near future. It’s always WAY out there . . . Somewhere in the distant future — Ideally after all our dreams are realized and our goals are met. When we are too old to carry on the fight any longer.

Death on our terms — that’s what we all want.

I dare say that almost none of us will meet death on our terms.

I’m Not Sad About My Newfound Awareness. I know I will not be able to control the end game. I have stopped that delusion now. There is a bullet out there with my name on it. And, it’s safe to say, it’s not realistic for me to be so cavalier about the amount of living I have left before me — it may be a week, it may still be decades. Breast cancer again? Maybe. Maybe something different. Maybe a weird accident. Maybe just the final beating of a worn out heart. It comes to us all and I’m okay with that. But, I’m pretty sure that bullet isn’t coming today. That’s how I live my life each day now. Today is all I really have to work with. I want to make the most of what I have to work with right now. I still have the same goals and dreams as I did prior to my initial breast cancer diagnosis. It’s just that, now, I have a true sense of urgency. Wasted time can never be recaptured. There are several things I really must accomplish with my time on this earth. I want to see as much of the world as I can — so I must travel. I want to create something that expresses my thoughts to someone — so I must write. I want to be remembered with love by my friends and family — so I spend as much time as I can surrounded by the people who matter.

In Conclusion: If I could rewrite history, breast cancer would not have played a role in my life. I can’t change the past, I can’t control what’s coming down the road in the future, but I can pour my heart and soul into today. Did breast cancer open my eyes to the full value of my life? No, I can’t really say that. It did make me more empathetic to the struggles of everyone around me. I think there’s a common saying floating around right now, something to the effect of “Be kind to everyone you meet, everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” I hope that the people I meet know nothing about my battle. I refuse to wear my breast cancer diagnosis on my sleeve — it is not a badge of honor. It is no more than an eye-opening experience and a lesson about the fragile, temporary state of being we all have on this earth. Yes, there’s a bullet out there. I don’t want to label it, and I don’t want it to label me. I am not the victim of a disease. I am a human being, fighting a battle you know nothing about. Or, do you?

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