It’s not that I don’t want people to know. I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want lots of drama. Like I told my mother (who has been through this surgery a little more than one year ago) I don’t want a parade. It seems to me that some folks just revel in making a production of every instance of breast cancer that they hear of and feel that a mass of pink ribbons should accompany and inflate the drama. I’m not about any of that. I’d rather just be on your prayer list. A prayer is surely going to save me before a pink ribbon.
As soon as all those I wanted to tell individually knew, I was a little less stressed.
What’s difficult is seeing sad faces and hearing all of the “I’m sorries.” It’s what I would say too probably. I’m not complaining or criticizing. In fact, I’m sure I have said it to someone. It’s just tough. And I don’t want to lose it. I feel a duty to be strong. If I lose it, they may too. And, at that point, I may not be able to get my composure back.
I had to tell two of the most special people in the world to me by phone. My two step-daughters. The blessing in the fact they are “steps” is that they don’t have to worry fret over genetics with me. With my diagnosis, I follow my mother in the type of cancer and surgical removal that she had.
I’m not sure I could have looked at Kirsten’s or Aerin’s faces and not cried. I know they were shocked and if they were upset or teared up, seeing it would have been heart-breaking for me. I don’t ever want to do anything that hurts them – I know I can’t control this but that doesn’t make it OK.
Like I said before – what good do the tears do? It doesn’t get me anywhere and it only makes me feel worse to cry…puffy eyes, stopped up nose, and probably a headache. Nope. Not doing it.
That’s where faith has to step in and save me.
God give me strength. Help me wait. Help me be obedient.
I have to hand it over to God or the stress will eat a hole in my stomach. God is my resolve. Is my strength. Is my calm.