Today I spent some time reading my caring bridge journal. Do you know what that is? Have you ever kept one or followed one for updates of illness or medical injuries from family or a friend? It was my way of keeping family and friends updated through out my cancer journey, start to finish. We have family all over the states from one coast to the other. Telling my story over and over again was draining and grueling. The journal was the easy way of communicating what was going on to those who wanted to know. It kept me sane. I just want to be rocking those babies.
In reading those entries from almost 9 years ago each of my posts ended with my will to fight because I had unborn grandbabies to rock. I had a horribly rare type, well really two rare types, of breast cancer, Triple Negative and Metaplastic, along with the BRCA 1 gene/mutation, with a terrible survival rate and a terribly high chance of reoccurrence. My biggest wish and prayer at that time was to be able to rock my unborn grandchildren.
I know you don’t bargain with God or make crazy promises for something. But my wish was always the same, please let me live to rock my unborn grandbabies and I will be the best grandma I can be. To me that was the truth. It was not a shallow whim of a hope and prayer. I was serious. I still am.
In the 14 months of treatment, I took a year off work, had 7 surgeries, 16 chemo therapy treatments, too many scans to count, and I lost 35 pounds. Loosing both of my breasts because of an egg sized tumor, (which was filled with 87% active cancer cells) and the BRCA mutation was pretty scary. At the time my surgeon and oncologist both said because of the reoccurrence chance, reconstruction was not an option.
My surgeon, a tiny little Indian woman, who knew at the age of 12 she wanted to be the best cancer doctor she could be, because she lost her beloved grandma to the beast, studied while the other children in New Delhi were out side playing. To stop one tiny cancer cell from being left in my chest, she would remove every bit of tissue, muscle, and skin that she could.
To this day, I am proud of my flat chest which is really flat with two pretty scars. I’ve seen pictures that show some women having horrific chest scars that look like it was totally butchered. Thankfully, my surgeon did a really nice way of making my chest look great.
My surgeon also knew of my dream and wish to rock my unborn grandchildren. She knew being mom to my two sons, whom I love more than life it’s self, and doing life with my hubby, my life partner was so important to me. I married him when I was 19, he was 20 and such babies figuring out life together. I just had not totally lived enough yet. She knew it. She got it and she did her best to help me live and carry on with my life.
After the surgeon was finished, I started another chemo series when she turned me back over to my oncologist. My oncologist, another little Indian woman, is a wonderful, intelligent, charismatic, and a very intuitive lady. Then as I was going through the last few brutal treatments, she always challenged, pushed, educated, and encouraged me.
She knew my dreams and hopes, she remembered them and she would remind me when things were bad. She willed me to fight the hardest battle I would ever face. I always told her that she not only treated my cancer, she treated my entire body from my mind to my soul.
So travel ahead almost 9 years. I am healthy, happy, and oh, so blessed. My grown sons are my hero’s, my daughter in law in a very close friend. My husband of almost 41 years is my best friend. AND I have three of the most wonderful grandsons ever that I have been able to rock and be a totally active grandma in their lives. I take my promise seriously, I’ll be the best grandma that I can be. Every day, I GET to be that grandma; rocking those babies.