This is my niece. My beautiful little niece. Actually she’s no relation to me, but her mom and I have been best friends for 30 years now. Which is impressive since I am only 35 years old.
Feb. 16, 2012 will always be a day I will remember. It was the day my life, my family’s life, all changed. During a routine exam my family doctor found a lump in my right breast, and under my arm. My heart sank and the tears came two weeks later when it was confirmed: stage 4, grade 3. Highly aggressive were the only words I understood. Elevator music started playing in my head. All I could think about were my kids. My teenage headaches waiting for me to get home, and this little girl. My surrogate sister watched and helped raise my children, and I was wondering if I would get the chance to return the favour.
My husband has been by my side the entire time. He has held my hand, wiped my tears, been the sounding board as I screamed in anger, but he never wavered or gave up. He has been my rock, and my reason to keep going. Without him or my kids, I never would have made it through surgery, chemotherapy, unlimited side effects, or the hate I have raging through me right now. Whether it’s hate or self pity, I am not sure yet. Still not done. Radiation is happening now, and more surgeries to come.
So we walk. We walk for me. We walk for them. We walk so my kids will have their mom, my niece will have someone to teach her all the fun things, my best friend will still have her giggle mate, and my husband will have his other half. I am walking for my answer to that all important question: why me?
When I figure that out, I am sure to shout from the rooftops. Until that moment, we walk…