‘You have cancer.’ Those words changed my life. They also gave me a new perspective.
Today I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I see a surgeon Monday at Rex and I’ll know more then. I’m lucky to have a really strong support system of friends and family. So I’m trying not to freak out just yet. Keep an eye on your girls, ladies. If you notice anything weird, get it checked out. Have a mammogram early and often. It could save your life. — Jessaca Giglio, Facebook, Oct. 26, 2018.
I don’t remember the first time I felt the mass in my left breast. I don’t remember it growing or showing up suddenly. It didn’t feel like a pea or a lump or anything else I thought breast cancer should feel like. This thing felt more like a brick. It was squarish and hard and so large that I’ll never forget the shocked look on my gynecologist’s face when she felt it.
“It’s so big it has to be benign,” she told me.
It wasn’t.
Four days after that appointment, a radiologist said what will forever define me: “You have cancer.”
I was one of the about 275,000 women in the U.S. each year to be diagnosed with breast cancer. I am the 1 in 8.
I started crying. Was I going to die? What would happen to my kids, my sweet little boys who were just 13 and 10 and needed their mama?
That afternoon changed me. But I had no idea at the time that it would be for the better.
Chemo, radiation and too much TV
Twenty-five days after my diagnosis, I had a bilateral mastectomy.
The brick I felt in my left breast turned out to be a 6 cm. area of invasive ductal carcinoma. Out of the 15 lymph nodes that were biopsied, nine were cancerous.
I needed chemo and radiation — and a lot of it.
Going through cancer treatments is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was grueling. It pushed me to my limits both mentally and physically.
I started chemo on Dec. 14, 2018, my younger brother’s 40th birthday. I waltzed into the room with my long, dark, straight hair thinking, “How hard could this really be?”
I had no idea.
After each of my 16 rounds of chemo, I had a period of days when I felt horrible. Throughout it all I was nauseous and exhausted. My joints ached. My head was in a fog. I had hot flashes. Food and water were gross. I had spells of depression. I lost my hair. I was on so many medications, and I hated taking medications.
Worst of all, I wasn’t there for my kids like I needed to be. They had to watch me go through all of this. I can’t begin to know how hard it was and probably still is for them.
There were many weeks when I thought about quitting the chemo. There were many days when the radiation burns were unbearable. Many days I stayed in bed because I was depressed and too unmotivated to get up and take care of the smallest thing. I watched way too many episodes of “Parks and Recreation.” “Beverly Hills, 90210.” “Dawson’s Creek.” “Party of Five.” “True Detective.” “Jeopardy.”
But more than anything, I learned so much about my ability to keep going and keep fighting. No matter how hard it was. I learned that I didn’t need to decide if my exhaustion was from the chemo or depression. I learned it was OK to rest when I needed to. And it’s always OK to watch too much TV.
I also learned that life is short. Every moment matters.
After the last of my 34 rounds of radiation, more than nine months after my cancer diagnosis, my boys and a crew of family and friends got to come in the radiation room to celebrate with me.
There was confetti, hugs, tears and laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. My 50 cancer treatments were over.
The mental recovery
The two years since my diagnosis have gone fast. But they have not always been easy.
I always thought once treatments ended I would just move on, go back to normal. But that normal doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not the same person I was on Oct. 26, 2018.
I have upsetting days when I am convinced the cancer is back. I have days when I wonder if cancer and chemo and radiation really happened. I have days when I don’t think about cancer until I look in the mirror and see my short, curly hair and how much I’ve aged.
But there are a lot of days when I’m at peace.
The best thing cancer did for me was rid me of debilitating anxiety. When I faced my own mortality, I figured out that overthinking every little thing was a waste of the short time I might have left.
I’m now more fearless, more relaxed and more in the moment than I’ve ever been. I’m more patient and kind. I am forever grateful for the people who helped me through surgery and chemo and radiation and all its aftermath. I’m more in love with my husband and kids and dog than I ever thought possible.
I say “I love you” more. I make an effort to reach out to people I care about. I’m working on making amends with people I’ve wronged. I don’t let petty things bother me.
So people, be kind to one another. Love each other. Reconnect with long-lost friends. Say you’re sorry. Talk to people you don’t know. Cut out the toxic people and the things that don’t matter.
October is breast cancer awareness month — and the month I was diagnosed with the horrible disease.
Go get a mammogram. Get a breast exam. Do a self exam. If you feel something, say something. Be an advocate for yourself.
Life is short enough already.