I remember the conversation, not the date, that you told me that an angel had come to you in a dream, touched your breast, and told you that you had breast cancer.

He told you that you would be okay, but you needed to see your doctor. I made you call the doctor and get in to get a referral, and got one for myself. We went together for our mammograms, or mammy’s. We did, and waited to hear from the Doctor.

We were meeting at Mimi’s Cafe for lunch when you called to see if the doctor had any results. The nurse told you that the doctor needed to call you. Wow, that sent chills down my spine. The answer was already there, we just needed her to confirm it. She did. You were driving down the road and I was sure you were going to wreck. I told you to meet me at my house and we would talk. By the time you got there, you had your answer.

DCIS was the diagnosis.

We stopped in the driveway, and then in the garage talking and crying, and vomiting. It was an out of body experience, like watching a movie of another life. I remember the cleaning lady being here and that we told her like she was a long lost friend. You called your mom, and your brother. I think it was his birthday. You called Rob, he was speechless, and said he would see you as soon as he could.

We got your report and read the RAD 4 notification at the bottom and knew you were going to need some more checking. You knew already in your head what your future held, you told me that you had breast cancer. That you knew you would have to experience it in your life. I knew you were psychic, just a few letters away from psycho, which we had joked about for years. We went to see the breast specialist, Dr. Riley, and she told us that you had the best breast cancer you could have. What a relief, not. It is still the “C” word.

You had a few other tests, they all seem to blur together now, except the attempted dye assisted MRI.

We went to the diagnostic center with plans to get the test done, then go to lunch at Paymon’s. You got on your gown, and we told them that I was joining you to hold your hand. After 5 attempts to find a juicy vein for the dye, they called in the experts. Still no cigar. We would have to further “lubricate and hydrate you”, and return later that day. Not in the plan though, the battery was dead on the truck. Seriously, we were not sure if we wanted to laugh, or cry. We stopped at Jack in the box for bottled water and tried to lube you up. But, at that point you were done. No avail, so we re-scheduled your MRI with contrast for the next Monday. Fun, more waiting. Another expert iv starter would be there to get this iv in, no matter what. Well, didn’t happen, even after 12 more pokes, a blown vein, and a Valium prescription needing a refill! We were waiting for Ed Mc Mahon to jump out and throw confetti on us and tell us we were on a hidden camera show! Didn’t happen.

Weeks passed, more tests, more research, more waiting, more deciding. Lumpectomy, or Mastectomy.

Each had it’s better pieces, I guess. Glad we talked you out of the double mastectomy. One real and one fake, best of both worlds!!! Surgeon’s visits, plastic’s visits, oncologists visits. Even being in the oncologists building made me nauseous. I tried to see the best in every experience and make you laugh, that’s my job. I am your wing woman. Sometimes it worked, others, not so much. What is the plan, and why is this happening?

The day is scheduled and all the family is there. We are separated though, down blood lines. This is weird for me, but not unexpected. We get to stay with you, speak to the surgeon, and hang with you until the start time. It takes forever, but finally the new surgeon that we chose, recommended by the plastic surgeon, comes out. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. We were tired of waiting for the other surgeon to make a decision and since she works only with a plastic’s guy that was a moron, we had to leave, get all your medical records transferred over, and start fresh. I know I say “we” a lot, but I was in this with you. Every step of the way, right by your side. I had to be, for me also! Otherwise, I would have jumped from the hot tile roof! I’m excited to see her so I scream and run to her. She tells me everything we wanted to hear, and not in the lymph nodes. OMG, dodged a bullet there, or used one of your nine lives. I can not help it and I scream, hug her, and dance with her! That is the best news possible. I love her! I can now breathe and eat chocolate! She tells the rest of the family and I make calls to your friends, and your brother. We are estatic. Now we wait for the plastic’s guy, now lovingly called Dr. Earl, to finish his piece and put you back together. He does, and tells us everything went great! Okay, wow, glad this day is flippin over. We can’t see you for hours, but you are resting comfortably. We know that at least one more surgery is in the future, but that is okay. The “C” is gone and you are put back together. All is good.!

Your journey is still ongoing. You handle it with grace. You smile even though you complain about how you look, your hair falling out from all the wear and tear on your body. Another surgery under your belt 4 in one year. Wow. We are still laughing and going through the motions. You are writing in your blog and it keeps you sane, well, maybe. That and our little blue friends. Is that a butterfly?

Love you forever….Lori

If you would like to help, share your Survivorship story, or your Co-survivor story and make a difference! Contact stacy@fightpink.org.