THANKFUL

When people find out that I have the BRCA gene, that I have had a bilateral mastectomy, and that I am destined to have my ovaries removed, I usually get the “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” response.

 

But, I am not sorry.

 

I am thankful.

 

The National Cancer Institute estimates there were more than 207,000 new cases of breast cancer among American women in 2010, and 39,840 deaths.

 

Many of these women did not have the ability to anticipate cancer; did not have the ability to prevent cancer.

 

I knew.

 

I removed my breasts before they were removed from me. I removed them before they took my cells, my lymph nodes, my hair, my bone density, my fertility, and my health. I made choices before it took me from my family.

 

In just the two months since the school year has started, three of my students have watched their loved ones return to God. And, as I correct their final essays for class, I am learning of four more who have already lost a parents, loved one, and even a young friend to cancer. It’s hard not to think about the young students who have lived  in the buildings around my office who have been diagnosed, survived, or died from cancer.

 

As I write this, one friend is just hoping her husband lives through the next few days. One friend is hoping he lives  through the next few weeks. Two friends just had their mastectomies, helping them live through the next few years. One friend is preparing for her mastectomy next week. Many more friends are in active chemotherapy and radiation.

 

This morning, a college friend of mine called to ask if I would connect with her friend — a mom who just found out her 2-year old has cancer.

 

When people find out that I was thrown into this cancer world when my daughter was diagnosed with cancer, they feel sadness for us.

 

I do not.

 

I feel sadness for the parents who, on this Thanksgiving holiday, can’t help but wonder what their own children would have been like had they survived cancer. They think about their children in terms of  “My son would have been four” or “My daughter would have celebrated her 8th birthday today.” I feel sadness for the young people who are celebrating their first holiday without a parent.

 

And, in this same weekend, I heard from a friend who just delivered her third child. Happy, healthy, perfect. Welcoming life into this world after a tough pregnancy, and bringing joy and blessings into their family.

 

I am thankful.

 

My daughter — though physically changed — is here today to emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually keep growing.  I do not have to wonder who she would have been, but rather who she will become. And, in turn, she won’t have to wonder what it would be like to have a mom with breast cancer.

 

I am thankful.

 

I am thankful for cancer. I am thankful for the knowledge it has given us, for the opportunities it has provided us, and for the future it has still promised us. Cancer can make us both weak and strong.

 

It binds us to those who love, who care deeply, and who live as if every day is a Day of Thanks.

 

Peace, love, and healing prayers for those in great need these days,

 

Liza

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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GOES RIGHT

I’m having one of those days when everything is just going right.

 

But, in my life, a day is right when we can breathe, live and love in the way our lungs and hearts were intended.

 

For over two months now, I’ve been trying to tackle my weight. I’ve been hesitant to post my mental/emotional battle with my weight because it seems to petty, so foolish, after spending the past few years fighting for the right to be alive.

 

When I trained for my half marathon, I was running and eating in all the best ways possible. I never lost any weight. After surgery, my body had the pasta, brownies and cookies audacity to gain weight. I lost a cup size and gained 7 lbs. At 8 weeks, I began working out with a cancer exercise specialist, went to the gym regularly, started physical therapy, and began meeting with a nutritionist.

 

Just last week, I was sobbing in the nutritionist’s office.

 

I had done everything she told me to do — eat right, exercise, sleep well.

 

Still, I was exactly the same weight — just shy of 200 lbs on my 5’2″ frame — as when I started.

 

“How’s your stress level, Liza? Have you been keeping your food log?”

 

“Ginger, that’s what stresses me out!!” I felt like that Cathy comic strip character in need of a good AAACCKKKK!! Then, throw me in a human sized fondue of chocolate, please.

 

She made me write down everything I was thankful for in relation to my body.

 

I am thankful I have enough flexibility in my arms to hug my children.

I am thankful I can lift a bag of groceries that hold good food for my family.

I am thankful I can lay down on my side, snuggle my 2-year old son, and sing lullabye songs with him.

I am thankful I have legs that walk, lungs that breathe, and eyes that see.

I am thankful that I can move my body enough to run, use my mind enough to think clearly, and feel my heart beating when I am excited and happy.

I am thankful that I have  facial muscles that smile, fingers that can play games on my  iPhone prepare a healthy meal, and ears that can hear my children’s laughter.

 

I began to laugh.

 

But, I wasn’t laughing because I felt embarrassed or petty that I was focused on my weight; I began to laugh at the joy that filled my heart. Life is good. And, all these things made life better.

 

As we kept going, I began to focus less on me and more on those who help me be the authentic me. A me who knows how fragile life is. A me who knows how important love is. And a me who knows how quickly it can all be taken away.

 

I am thankful for the many people who have prayed for me, supported me, and even thought of me and my family in these past few years. I am thankful for the surprises I receive in the mail from friends I haven’t seen in over a decade, and friends who I only see for a few days a year.

 

Is the paper, postage, and envelope worth a heart that feels loved? Yes. I live by the saying, “What will you do today to help someone feel they are loved?” What would you do today if you knew you were loved?

 

Life is ours to have. Love is ours to give.

 

Peace, love, and focusing on what goes right,

Liza

 

 

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