A Responsible Surrendering
What began as a gentle interruption of a busy work day to get my annual mammogram quickly became a jolt that would create an interruption of which I never imagined would be a part of my life. “We’re sorry, Mrs. Lower, but we would like to do a sonogram to get a better look at a suspicious spot on your left breast. Do you have time to stay today?”

This is one of those times we often refer to as a “defining moment”... a moment in time when your life is instantly changed forever. It has now been five years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy. A poster child for early detection, I had clean nodes and escaped the route of radiation and chemotherapy.

“Did having breast cancer totally alter your outlook and life?” This is the toughest question people have asked me about my experience. I just didn’t react to my cancer experience in a way that I, my family, and my friends expected me to react. About a year out, those closest to me began quietly saying, “Are you OK? I’m not certain you have really dealt with this.” After a while, I began to question it myself! After a few visits to the therapist, I came back with a message for my concerned loved ones: “Belinda hasn’t been stuffing what has happened to her. She has just chosen that it is not what she is defining herself by.”

The best way I can describe my experience with breast cancer is to define it in terms of the relationship I developed with the disease. I developed a relationship that includes breast cancer into my life. It isn’t something that I “fought” or “survived”. It is just a part of me and my life path.

I didn’t develop this approach instinctively, but it did come to me in an instant. Once faced with the diagnosis, I quickly jumped into my research mode, searching to learn everything I could about breast cancer, treatments, mastectomies, reconstruction, alternative treatments, etc. One morning in the midst of one of my frantic internet searches, I broke down in tears and just sobbed.

The next moment, a thought entered my head, a thought that would define my path and the relationship I would form with breast cancer. The thought was: “How can I go to bed each night and thank God for all the blessings in my life and not thank Him for this? Who am I to pick and choose those that I think are ’good’ and those that I think are ’bad’?”

This was my defining moment. I like to think of it as “responsible surrendering”. It was at that moment I embraced breast cancer as a part of my life. I gave up expending energy in trying to figure out why, or who did what, or what my future would be. It just was.

My “responsible surrendering” also allowed me to more clearly distinguish the emotions I was experiencing. Being able to put a label on a feeling took the power out of it and allowed me to embrace the sadness and anger I felt, for example. The realization that the label for these feelings was mourning helped me through that period. It wasn’t just a breast and that wonderful estrogen I was losing. As a matter of fact, those weren’t the true source of the sadness and anger at all. It was the loss of my innocence and security that were the source of my feelings. I would never again be able to take good health and a long life for granted. That really ticked me off! Coming to that understanding led me to the realization that I really hadn’t lost anything in that regard. Safety and security is really just an illusion anyway, isn’t it? Any day you could leave for work and never come back. I just never thought about it in those terms. I miss that innocence, that feeling of safety, but I have learned that it is not an essential element for living a fabulous life. It might even enhance the ability to live a fabulous life! “Did having breast cancer alter my outlook and life?” It really has. I can more easily resist the urge to try to “make sense” of all that comes into my life and just embrace it. I am aware that what happens to me doesn’t necessarily mean there is a message or lesson for me. I live in a gigantic and inter-related world. What happens to me or what I do or don’t do has the possibility of impacting others in ways that I may never know. All I can really do is accept the gifts I am given and say, “Thank you, I will try to be a good steward.”

Know Your Body, Clara Reye’s Story
By: Tekia Thompson
Clara Reyes, editor of Dos Mundos Bilingual Newspaper, knows what it means to fight the “Big C”É Cancer. As a five-year breast cancer survivor, Clara has met cancer face to face, fought it, and won. It is Clara’s strength and determination that makes her more than a survivor. Feeling great one day then horribly sick the next, Clara proves that even out of tragedy comes victory.

“I was working with the Hispanic Women’s Coalition Against Cancer as a volunteer, educating the community about cancer. I went every year for my mammogram and felt pretty good. Nothing could have prepared me for the news I got in 1999. It was the nurse who noticed a change in my breast.” That change was enough to send Clara immediately for a sonogram of her right breast. Her doctor was stunned to find a tennis ball-sized tumor; Clara was devastated. “I was in a state of shock. Why did they not find this earlier? Why didn’t I feel it? It was the worst day of my life. My daughter was with me and she kept telling me that we had to fight it.”

Clara had a full mastectomy five days following her diagnosis. “When you are told that you have the “Big C”, you automatically think that you are going to die. Even though I had been educating women in the coalition about cancer, I went blank when it came to me. I forgot about everything I taught them. But later I realized that I didn’t have to be afraid and that I could fight it.” One month after surgery, she began her first round of chemotherapy. “I remember thinking, ’Oh, I feel so sick. I can’t do it.’ My family came every day to get me going. Sometimes they would dress me to get me out of the house for ice cream. My sister came from Mexico to take care of me. She was able to make me laugh through the whole process. While my daughter and business partner took over Dos Mundos, I began to focus on me. I slowed down to stop and smell the roses. Before, I was running everywhere on various committees and boards. I learned how to say ’no’ and enjoy life with my family and friends.” Eventually, Clara had reconstructive surgery on her breast where the tumor was removed. “You know, sometimes you just feel bad and your self-esteem is low. So I had the reconstructive surgeryÉfor me.”

Today, Clara is back in the editor’s seat at Dos Mundos, but with fewer commitments on her plate. “When I was diagnosed, I would cry, ’Why me God, why me?’ Now, I ask God, ’How can I help?’” Once a volunteer, she is now the president of the Hispanic Women’s Coalition Against Cancer providing education and mammography services.

“I now teach women what I learned in my fight. You have to know your body and take time for yourself. No one knows your body better than you. Be aggressive with your doctors and take notes. Women should not be afraid to talk to their doctors about anything that might be wrong with them. Cancer is real. And the more you know about your body, the better you will be able to fight for your life. Thank God I am here. Early detection is the best detection.”

Alive and Vivacious
Staring at the white mass the size of a peach-pit with four “fingers” extending out of it to touch other parts of my body, the surgeon, nurse, and I stood motionless.

“Is this cancer? How can you tell?” At the moment the surgeon’s words, “Yes, you do have cancer,” soaked into my mind, I went numb. I thought, “Oh, my God. This is inside ME.” Everything I have ever heard about cancer flooded me in that moment.

After I cried for what seemed to be forever, I drove home where my husband met me and we just sat in silence and then we hugged all night. If he was afraid, he did not show it. He just showed me courage and that he loves me. We would just take care of this together and continue with our life together. The only reason he was not at this appointment with me is that I did not realize what I know now; that every appointment is important when you speak with a surgeon. Besides, I was told I would have a biopsy and then the next appointment we would talk about what is up with my body. I did not ask enough questions in the first meeting, or I would have known to bring my husband with me.

Because the cancer mass looked huge, all I thought about was “get it out”. Due to my fear factor, I chose the traditional method of chemo, surgery, and radiation (I had lymph nodes involved). I was not certain that any other modes of treatment would work at this late date. Each person must take the time to look inside to see which treatment they think will work best. It is such an individualized decision.

The support from my husband, family, and friends was tremendous. The next most important support is my attitude and the attitude of my loved ones around me.

During the chemo, I did lose my hair. Most of it did fall out. Yet, there were some stragglers that just looked too funky even for me. So I thought, “I get to experience what others with clean heads do”. So, I got out the shaving cream and put it on my almost bald head with the art of a child adorning her ice cream Sunday with a mound of whipped cream.

Then I shaved my head, carefully going over all of the sloped areas with care. As I did, I was thinking, “How horrible will my head look? Do I want to wash off the shaving cream to see what is really there?” After all, I had had multiple head injuries as a child. “There are probably scars and lines and, oh, what if I cut myself? How ugly will I be?”

“Get a grip,” I reminded myself as I finished this ceremony of shaving my head entirely clean. “I will be alive and this is what counts.” I showered off and had only a few lights on so not to shock me too much, and then I took a peek in the mirror. There I saw the most beautiful soft skin stretched over a most perfectly shaped head. WOW! Who knew I had a beautiful head and features. My eyes, usually the first feature noticed, were amazing. My entire face shone bright from within. I have heard about this yet never thought I would see this light in me. Not this bright!! Oh, what a blessing! There is a beauty within us all that not one thing can dim. This just goes to show that when one looks for beauty, one finds it.

During chemo treatments, the bright red color horrified me. What were they putting in my body? Yes, it will kill the cancer. But, what else will it kill of ME? My cells were yelling at me, “What are you doing?” I decided to talk to my cells so that they would use the chemo for good. As the chemo was put into me, I would say silently, “God is everywhere present. God is in the chemo medicine assisting me to be alive and vivacious.”

Surgery came after chemo. The doctor wanted to shrink the mass as much as possible. It did shrink by half. Yet, the positioning of it and the lymph nodes involved indicated a mastectomy was in order. It also meant I was not able to have any reconstruction until after the radiation. The night before surgery, I decided that it would do me good to say “goodbye” to my right breast, to thank it for the years of service, for nourishing my three children, for making my clothes fit well, for looking great in a bathing suit. I wept over the gift of my body. I wept for a part of me that I had to give up in order to live. Saying “goodbye” prepared me for the next morning for surgery.

I got a good night’s sleep and woke up ready and with a positive attitude. The surgery was a breeze. The recovery was not. I felt like I was beat up, stapled, and mutilated.

I was not feeling my perky, energetic self, so, two weeks after my surgery I walked in the Susan Komen Walk. I figured if I was able to do that, it would send a signal to my brain and body. “Hey, you are fine. Get on with your life.” The next thing I did was make an appointment for an entire day of pampering. Can you believe it took surgery for me to pamper myself like that all day? It was divine. After that I was starting to feel like myself again.

I am proud to say that I am three years cancer-free and counting. I love my surgeon and oncologist and am grateful for them and the good work that they did in keeping me alive. However, the methods that are successful are not fun. I am doing so much more to take care of my body now. I no longer say, “I will take care of me later.” I am doing it now. Now that I am more out of the woods, I am reading about how to stay more conscious about the choices I make daily to care for the only body I am given.

I am more thankful for all life. I see more miracles in life each day. There are no limits on miracles. I am so very thankful to my husband. He took amazing care of me. He would call my friends and family and give updates when I was too tired from chemo to talk. During the chemo and radiation, I worked forty hours each week. I would come home by 5:30 p.m. and then by 6 p.m., I was asleep. He never complained. He went to every appointment with me. His place of employment did not understand, yet he put me first anyway. What an amazing man I am married to.

My final prayer on this subject is that cancer can just vanish, be gone forever. We do not need this disease to learn how to be more compassionate, loving, and caring. We can do this now.

Article Source: http://www.flourishmagazine.com