Remember that face of concern? And then I disappeared for a few weeks? Come to find out – my worry was actually founded this time. I do, in fact, have cancer. It’s the breast variety, ductal to be specific, and caught early. My type is considered “in situ”, which means this bitch ain’t traveled yet, although my new, very practical oncology doctor, has let me know that if she finds invasive disease in my post surgery pathology, my treatment path will change. And there’s a shot at finding invasive disease. I’m accepting of this and know that medical science has really solid treatment options. But early detection methods did exactly what they were supposed to do – find the cancer BEFORE it becomes invasive and metastatic. Yay? It’s still cancer though.

Medical worries are something of a mastered skill for me. I have a chronic disease already, was diagnosed young, and have spent over half of my life managing symptoms, medicinal contra-indications, and staying ahead of treatments for auto-immunity. But adding cancer ? That was not on my medical bingo card. Now I have to step back and look at the big picture. Autoimmunity? Check. Inflammatory disease? Check. Heart murmur? Check. Thyroid disease? Check. Asthma? Check. At what point did the universe insist that this wasn’t enough? “Heya – you’re a little too comfortable and managing your disease too well – try a little of this cancer on for size and see how you do with THAT shit!”. That’s how I picture it anyway.

I’ve been diagnosed a little over three weeks now. I hate that I got my diagnosis the day before my wedding anniversary, so now I’ll never forget that particular doom day. I’m still adjusting to the reality of having cancer though. The paranoia of knowing your body is stacking weapons to attack itself is mind numbing. Autoimmunity is already a mine field, but add a little cancer into the mix, and you’ve got a recipe for an all out war. I just don’t appreciate my body being the battlefield.

My day to day life hasn’t changed much, although the emotional and mental toll is something no one warns you about. The level of exhaustion that hits me like a brick is award-worthy, if that were a thing! But mostly, aside from a few more appointments, and A LOT of decisions, my day to day is relatively unchanged. I get up, I run, I shower, eat breakfast, and I dive into my workday. I solve problems, collaborate with my team, and look for ways to push the needle a little further for a company I care deeply about. After work, I do the household things – make dinner, love on the family, play with the dogs…again, largely unchanged. But that fact is always in the back of your head just screaming: “YOU HAVE CANCER!!” After a while, you just get used to the screaming and you learn to work around it and keep on moving one foot in front of the other. I am, ultimately, a problem solver.

What has changed is the realization of the support I have around me. My husband has always been my emotional rock anyway, and one of the few people that can successfully peel me off the ceiling when I’m freaking out. He’s my home. And he proves it every day. My daughters have absolutely stepped up to the plate and let Mom just be panicked and frantic here and there without judgement. This tells me I raised two incredible young women that know how to use empathy! The extra hugs and snuggles will never be declined either. At work – I was humbled, greatly, to have a team of incredible women leaders surround me on D-Day and lift me up to know that we will get through this together. I attended a leadership retreat last week and could have wept at the joy and love these women have surrounded me with. I know that this strength is the strength I will lean on when I need it most. I know there will be days that I’m angry, or sad, or tired, and these people will be the ones to carry me through until I find my energy again.

There’s so much I already hate about having cancer, and I’m sure the list will get longer as time goes on. But today is not the day I write them down. I have chosen the most aggressive treatment option – double mastectomy. But I know my grading is high, this cancer wasn’t here a year ago and there are four types of cancer in the generation above me. I will do what it takes to get that recurrence risk down as low as I can get it for now. I’ve always been a go-getter, and this won’t be any different. I can be a tough kid, and I’ve got one eye on the future. That future includes good health and a long life.

One thing I am not? A warrior. Cancer SUCKS. And I’m definitely not brave. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be brave. Today? I just wish I didn’t have cancer.

And finally – GET SCREENED!!! It could save your life!