Cured!

When I was going through treatment, I read a lot of blogs by people who had also gone through or were journeying through cancer. Many of the blogs just stopped, seemingly partway through the story and I always wondered what happened? In my lower days, I wondered if the person had died from their cancer, a very sad ending to their story. On better days, I assumed they finished their treatment, left cancer behind, and went on to live a happy healthy life. And I promised myself that one day, I would come back to this blog and write the ending. Happily, my update is the end of a chapter, not the end of my story.

After finishing my treatment all those years ago, I got the idea in my head that if I could survive five years without a recurrence, I would be cured. All the studies I read talk about the five year survival rate. The doctors won’t ever say that you’re cured, but I anticipated that I would feel cured after five years and that would be enough. But, in the first year after my treatment, I heard about a colleague’s wife who had a recurrence six years after completing her treatment; she died the following year. The news of her passing was sad, tragic, and, for me, scary. Her breast cancer had been caught in the early stages too, maybe not quite as early as mine, but still early. I revised my timeline. I would need to make it through ten years to feel cured. That meant carrying around ‘not cured’ for the next ten years. At least I had a long-term goal!

For the first year, the fear of a recurrence was strong. I felt my scars and my chest weekly looking for any signs of recurrence - always on a Monday; why ruin a perfectly good weekend? About a year after my surgery, I stayed in a hotel with floor to ceiling mirrors and excellent lighting in the bathroom. While stepping in to the shower, I noticed a lump on my chest, on the side that had had cancer. It was oddly cylindrical and hard. It was my worst fears realized - a lump not even a year after finishing treatment. I knew that if a lump came back that quickly, it must be very aggressive. I collapsed on the floor in a sobbing puddle. The lump appeared to foretell the end of Lisa. I couldn’t focus on anything except finding out if it was a recurrence. I was a mess of anxiety and the only thing I could hold on to, that gave me any hope, was the odd shape of my lump. Does cancer ever grow as a cylinder? I cut my trip short and flew home so I could see my surgeon. 

“Oh! That’s nothing to worry about. That’s just the titanium clip we used to repair your blood vessels. You have several others - here, here and here.”

The tears kept coming but now they were tears of joy! Lisa would live to see another day! Another year! Another decade! From the depths of despair to the peaks of gratitude, I drove home full of relief, joy, and  appreciation for what felt like my new lease on life.

Thankfully, there were no other scares. And with each passing year, the thought of recurrence didn’t occupy my thoughts as much. At five years cancer free, I celebrated by buying myself a much-needed new car - a limited edition pink VW Beetle! I’ve always liked the colour pink and since my diagnosis with breast cancer, it’s come to represent so much more - my strength and resilience and my joy at being alive. I couldn’t believe my good fortune when I found my Beetle - the car I’d always wanted as a child, in the colour that held so much meaning for me, in the year of my five-year cancer free anniversary. Bugzie and I were clearly meant to be! 

While the fear of recurrence slowly abated, an ongoing struggle has been adjusting to life sans boobies. Some parts of my new boob-free life were great. I never wear a bra (woohoo!) and the feeling of some fabrics on my naked chest is delightful! Most sports, especially trampolining, which I’ve really gotten into lately, are much nicer without having even my small boobies flopping around. But, while functionally life is definitely easier without boobies, it’s been a challenging mental journey. I had thought that since my boobies were quite small that it wouldn’t matter much if they were gone. But it did. I missed them. My body looked so different. I looked like a child with my flat chest. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever seeing me as sexy again; I couldn’t see myself as sexy. I felt deficient, defective and less than. I still struggle with this occasionally.

But, for my ten year cancer free anniversary, my dear friends surprised me with a gift that made me feel beautiful. One is an artist and the others sent photos of their breasts to her. She drew each of them along with what she guessed my scarred chest looked like and the text ‘10 Years’. 

Seeing my chest alongside the chests of these beautiful, vibrant, amazing women made me feel equal for the first time since my surgery. They saw my chest as worthy of being art! For the first time, I thought that maybe my different chest could still be beautiful. I think this is the most impactful gift I have ever received and I will forever be grateful to my babes for their generosity and the important lesson I’m taking from their gift. My cups may not floweth over, but my spirit does and that is beautiful. 

The day of my ten-year cancer free anniversary, I felt liberated. I hadn’t really been thinking about a recurrence for quite some time - although sometimes the memories of my time in treatment are triggered and I expect that will stay with me - but, nonetheless, the meaning of that day resonated so strongly with me. I had made it! In my mind, I was finally cured! Cured of cancer! The weight was lifted and I was free!

To celebrate, my babes and I went out. We dined; we danced; we did a photo shoot and attracted a lot of attention. It was an incredibly special night. I felt beautiful and sexy and so much love from all my friends and family 💕 

Look at these women - gorgeous inside and out!

I may not have a chest that attracts much attention, but we discovered that night that I have an ass that just won’t quit! When a door closes, a window opens! 😂 
 

And that is the end of the chapter entitled ‘Lisa, Cancer Slayer’. I’m ready to write my next chapter! It’s called Lisa’s Roaring 40s and it’s full of fun, adventure, new skills, travel, and a bit of risk and rebellion - it’s a joyous celebration of being alive. 

With much love and positive thoughts to anyone who stumbled upon my blog and is going through their own cancer slaying. I hope your chapter has the happiest of endings.