Ten years ago, I was cast in a role I never auditioned for: Breast Cancer Girl. And in the 3,650 days since, cancer has never left the stage – sometimes appearing as the headliner, sometimes waiting as an understudy, and even just hanging around as an extra in the crowd.
The Starring Role
The first two years after my diagnosis, breast cancer took center stage and consumed nearly every aspect of my life. Chemotherapy, surgeries, and daily radiation … they weren’t just appointments on our calendar, but the lens through which every plan passed and every decision was made. Can we visit our families in Illinois for Thanksgiving? No, I have chemo that Friday. Will I be able to travel to this work conference? Probably shouldn’t, as my immune system is next to nothing right now. Want pizza for dinner? Remember, tomato sauce tastes like metal and is too spicy after this last round of chemo. When should we reschedule our honeymoon? Depends on when my last surgery can happen.
No matter the topic, breast cancer was the showstopper of every conversation, every thought, and every move I made.
And it wasn’t just about me either. Everyone around me had to take on a new role too. My husband became an almost full-time caregiver. My friends and family learned to rally me from afar. My colleagues took on extra responsibilities while I recovered. Cancer – that diva – didn’t just make demands of me but rewrote the roles for every single person in my life.
The Supporting Character
Eventually, though, the primary treatments ended, and my hair started growing back. Life looked a little bit more “normal” despite the fact that cancer was still waiting in the wings. Sure, cancer’s spotlight had dimmed, but the show continued to go on with monthly immunotherapy infusions, painful shots, and daily pills. And I can’t forget the regular tests and scans to ensure the cancer didn’t pull a Days of Our Lives moment and come back from the dead.
The most dramatic turn came, however, when we tried to have a baby, and a year of infertility treatments ended with multiple doctors telling me chemo had destroyed my eggs. Even now, I can still press play on those overwhelming feelings of heartbreak and anger. Cancer had already taken my breast, my hair, and the first two years of my marriage. Then it tried to take away the one thing I’ve been sure of my entire life—my desire to be a mom.
Luckily, this part of our story has a plot twist with a happy ending – a surprise, natural pregnancy and the birth of our red-headed miracle. But it just goes to show that even when it was supposed to be an understudy, breast cancer was always there waiting, shaping my storyline in quiet but life-altering ways.
The Background Extra
Now, ten years later, cancer doesn’t always have lines in my life’s daily script, but is a permanent extra in the background. It’s visible in the scars on my body. The way my mind starts to worry every time a backache or cough lasts a little too long. The “scan-xiety” that comes with my annual mammogram and MRI. And every time I hear of another friend’s breast cancer diagnosis, or the world losing a fighter to this disease.
Breast cancer may now be an extra, but it is always just in the frame where I can see it.
Weirdly, in some ways, this can be a blessing. A reminder of all the storylines cancer didn’t get to write for me. Vacations, domestic and abroad. Our daughter, who makes us laugh every single day. Promotions at work. Friendships, new and old. Half marathons run and weights lifted. Holidays with family. Pizza and movie nights at home. Whether mundane or extraordinary, cancer is in every scene … it just no longer steals the show.
The Next Act
This milestone – while exciting – is not the neat, wrap-it-in-a-bow, Rom-Com ending people imagine. You cannot move on from cancer, and there are no closing credits. It’s a part of my costume every day, and I wear it in different ways as I move forward in my life’s show. Frankly, I find that to be both the hardest and best part of my life as a breast cancer girl: recognizing I can’t erase cancer from my story but knowing I can use the experience to help write the next chapters.
As Queen Taylor sings, I have taken breast cancer’s “pearls of wisdom, hung them from my neck. I paid my dues with every bruise. I knew what to expect.”
