One year. Now what?

One year ago today I heard the words “You have cancer.” I will never forget where I was, who I was with, how I felt. I felt like the ground dropped out from underneath me, and I had suddenly lost all control over my life and my future. Now, today, one year later, everything – and I mean EVERYTHING – is different. On Monday I will be heading to the Royal Jubilee for a Double Mastectomy and DIEP Flap Reconstruction – where basically they will remove my breasts, then take all of my abdominal tissue and rebuild me with it. It’s a big surgery, and I’m not going to lie, I am absolutely terrified. But it’s just another step on the road, and so I shall go forth and get through this, just like I have gotten through everything else to date.

The days between January 28th 2015 and January 28th 2016 have not been anything I would have ever expected. Nothing can prepare you for a year like this. I had no clue – NO CLUE – what it would be like to have cancer, to fight cancer, to live with cancer. Before that day, my experience with breast cancer was minimal to say the least. I had no family history, no in the trenches experience – nothing. I had friends that organized cancer events, which I may or may not have gone to – but usually only because it sounded like fun – certainly not because I felt personally touched by it. I bet for many of you you are in the same situation. I may be the first person in your life that has been dealt this particular deck of cards. And my experience may or may not be touching you in a way that would encourage you to change something in your own life. And that’s OK. It’s my battle, not yours.

But back to this year – I did not realize that the people that surrounded you on Day 1 would not be the same people that surrounded you at Day 365. I had no idea that EVERY WEEK I would have some sort of injection, infusion, heart test, blood test, scan, new side effect, doctors appointment, physical therapy, ACTUAL therapy, treatment meeting or (my favourite) awkward conversation that has to do directly with cancer. There is no escaping it. There is no relief. You just survive and go from A to B and hopefully sleep well at the end of the day.

So funny story. Yesterday I went to get my eyebrows waxed. My esthetician is 8 months pregnant so she had a girl shadowing her. I got talking a bit about my surgery that I’ll be having on Monday, and she says to me “a mastectomy – that’s what you have all your girl parts removed right?” I said no, that’s a hysterectomy – a mastectomy is when you have all of your breast tissue removed. She said “OH – you’re going to be just fine, my brother had that done last year during his transition and it’s amazing what the surgeons can do these days.” It was in that moment I realized that maybe – just maybe – breast cancer awareness is not what it should be.

Tomorrow I will go to the Vikes Shoot for the Cure basketball game at the University, as a guest speaker for their breast cancer awareness campaign. Many of you know how much I hate the pink washing that has become the “norm” in breast cancer awareness. Granted, when you have a group of young university age students planning an event to honour breast cancer survivors, you’re inevitably going to run into the PINK. So I’ve been struggling with what to say. I so badly want to let them all know that this is not about saving boobies – it’s about saving people. It’s not about “bravely” wearing pink and looking progressive by hosting another event in the name of “awareness”. We need to be raising money for research. We need to be raising money for support programs. One statistic I have come across – last year the Canadian Cancer Agency cut the volunteer driver program to save $400,000, a week before the Breast Cancer Foundation raised $4Million at the Run for the Cure. I know they are different charities, but it goes to show that often people don’t know where their money is actually going when they support causes.

Please don’t get me wrong – I don’t want to squash anyone’s good intentions. Obviously my interaction with the esthetician is reason enough to continue with breast cancer awareness campaigns. I will be the first to tell you – I thought I was aware of breast cancer before I had breast cancer. But I have to be honest with you – I had NO FUCKING IDEA.

So, based on the stats – one in 8 women in Canada will be diagnosed with Breast Cancer in their lifetime. 1 in 28 will die from the disease. Look around you. If you are a mom on a hockey team, two of you will be in the same shoes as me. Another fun fact: 33% of women who have benefitted from “early detection” become 90% of the women that actually die from the disease. Breast cancer is not a “good cancer” to have. There is no good cancer. Please refrain from saying things like that to people. Early detection is great – but if you have a certain pathology like I have, the treatment will still be just as aggressive as if they had found a larger chunk. And please, don’t be the one to say “you should just lop them off!” Even if I had had a double mastectomy at the beginning, I would still have had to have chemo, radiation and hormone treatments, because cancer is not always about a lump. It’s often, as in my case, a cellular issue.

I’ve had 365 days to figure this whole thing out, and I’m still overwhelmed. I still have my big surgery on Monday and another 7 chemo sessions before I start in on 5 years of hormone therapy. Cancer is scary. It’s big. It’s lonely. It’s also super busy. It destroys your confidence, your relationships, and your body. No amount of pink will be able to change that.

So go get a mammogram. It’s free. It’s easy. You don’t need a GP to order it, you can just call the BC Cancer Agency’s Screening Mammography Program (1-800-663-9203) and book it yourself. Visit www.screeningbc.ca and read up about it. Educate yourself. Be proactive with your health. Just do it.

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