This Is My Story:
On 28th August 2008, I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. After 12 years of work, marriage and kids, I couldn’t imagine my life getting any harder than it already was, but it did. And it hit me like a wrecking ball.
The day of my appalling doctor’s appointment, my eldest kid, Brandon, was starring in his school play, which I had to miss. I remember seeing the despair in his eyes when I told him I wouldn’t attend; that was the most distressing thing he had ever experienced. He was only 7 at the time. He didn’t know any better than school, friends and family; therefore, exposing the secret of my disease was one of the most difficult events he had to process. I don’t even think he still properly understands it today; I wouldn’t know if he did.
Once the doctor had spilled the official news, I felt as if I were building blocks collapsing to the ground. I began to sense the cancer in my breast and soon, I sensed it everywhere. It was not only killing my body, but my entire life as a whole. I never felt the same after that.
From that day forward, I went through every treatment that ever existed, or that I could afford; however, the cancer continued to appear and multiply. I vividly remember a single day of my journey. When the rates of survival had finally registered in my mind: 22%, 22%, 22%, over and over again. It hadn’t become easier. If anything, it was harder. I could feel death waft over me, waiting for the perfect moment. I had lost all hope in the treatments, the doctors, and mostly in myself. I was in this state for a few days. I didn’t desire the presence of my family or friends. To be honest, I was sick of the flowers and the tears. I was sick of being perceived as nothing but ill. In my last few days, I wanted to be lonesome. I needed time to reflect and remember, so that I would go with peace in my mind and spirit. When the time came, I would feel fulfilled, complete and most importantly, in a state of acceptance. The time eventually came knocking on my door and I didn’t feel an ounce of fear. I didn’t feel like I was dying. I felt like I was… fading. Fading into an abyss.