It was June 26, 2008. I was training for a half Ironman 70.3 triathlon (70.3 is the distance in miles (113.0 km) covered in the race, consisting of a 1.2-mile (1.9 km) swim, a 56-mile (90 km) bike ride, and a 13.1-mile (21.1 km) run). I’d just finished the Bermuda End-to-End (25 mile/40k walk) with my friend, Michelle, in early May. In short, I was in the best shape of my life. The last thing I expected when I went for my routine mammogram was a callback.
I remember going to the doctor’s office on my own, thinking there must be some mistake. I was an athlete. A years-long vegetarian. I didn’t smoke. I drank in moderation.
I knew there was no mistake when the doctor handed me a thick white envelope and a box of tissues. On the way home, I stopped at a local diner and ordered bacon and eggs. I’d always missed bacon.
On July 4, 2008, I had a lumpectomy, followed by radiation in September/October. It goes without saying that I missed the Half Ironman competition (though I did complete the Steelhead 70.3 in Benton Harbor, Michigan in August 2009, thanks to the encouragement of my friend, Donna, who trained with me through heat, humidity and basic insanity).
Last week, I went for my ten year mammogram. Ten years is the magic number for breast cancer, vs. five for other cancers. I felt good. Strong. I was in a two-day golf championship tournament with an outside shot of winning my flight.
And then I got a callback from the doctor. There was a “reactive lymph node” under my left armpit. I would need an ultrasound. I immediately consulted “Dr. Google” and focused on the worst stories. I canceled my golf game, knowing the ultrasound took precedence.
Thankfully, the lymph node proved to be “normal” and I was given the all-clear for another year. I’ll admit to sobbing when I was told the good news. I have so many more stories to write, stories living inside my head just waiting to get out. So many dreams to fulfill.
Some would say cancer is a curse. I prefer to view it as a gift, although admittedly, unlike candles or wine, one without the potential to be re-gifted. Nonetheless, this dreaded diagnosis levies a litany of lessons. I know now, for example, that a homemade bean salad, a small tin of herbal tea, a well-loved book passed along, an impromptu walk through a lavender farm — that these heartfelt gestures can mean more than the most extravagant bouquet of store-bought flowers, or that a card bearing good wishes can mean far more than the dollar store price tag might indicate.
But most of all, cancer has provided me with the opportunity to experience moments of, “well enough about me, here’s more about me.” Such self-absorption is seldom granted to one with a life so ordinary.
This is a very touching post, Judy. I appreciate that you view your cancer as a gift (not to be re-gifted). Your spirit is inspiring! 🙂
Thank you Carol.
Thanks for sharing this life-affirming story, Judy. Wishing you the very best of health for the next 10 years … and many more beyond!
Thanks Lorna.
I’ve reached a similar milestone lately and it does put everything in perspective. I loved what you had to say here. Congratulations on hitting that ten year mark.
Congrats to you as well, Orkin. And yes, it does remind us to be grateful for every day.
Congrats on achieving this milestone! Wishing you all the best in the future. 🙂
Thank you Joanne!
So many people look forward to reading your Blog (and your novels), Judy!Thanks for sharing your life and your stories. You must be happy to have such a significant milestone behind you. Here’s to enjoying loads more bacon and publishing dozens more novels.
Thank you so much Gillian!
Wonderful watershed date Judy and I agree, time and random acts of kindness make all the difference. ♥
Thank you Sally. I think these later scares (I had one 4 years ago, there was a shadow that was just poor picture taking) serve as a reminder to appreciate life and that even small acts of kindness can make a difference in someone else’s life.
Thanks for sharing your joy in reaching this wonderful anniversary! Your energy and enthusiasm for life are a continual delight
Thank you, Arlene. I feel very lucky.
I laughed when you said you stopped for eggs and bacon after hearing your initial terrible news. Cancer does have a way of getting to us that almost nothing else can. Such good news about your last test. And you made 10 years! Now for the many years to come! Best to you and your writing.
Hi Pam, thanks and glad I gave you a laugh. I still love bacon (my favorite part of those SinC buffet breakfasts at conferences).
So glad you’re okay. Here’s to the same celebration EVERY year from now on!
Thanks Ellen! 10 years is the biggie.
Very happy to hear of the great outcome! You have a lot left to do in this world, keeping us entertained with your mysteries is one. Life is short, enjoy it to the fullest.
Thank you Rose!
Fantastic news, Judy! Best wishes for many more cancer free years and wonderful mysteries!
Thank you Karen!
Keep the stories coming and the joy flowing……not to mention the golf balls in the air and the legs running so fast the wind blows through your hair.
Thanks Debra!
Thank you for sharing this Judy. Your strength and courage are inspiring – I’m so happy to hear your good news.
Jan
Thanks Jan.
Congratulations on attaining this milestone. I look forward to reading more of your stories!
Thanks Micki. Maybe I’ll see you at LCC Vancouver March 2019. I’ve already signed up.
Thank you, Judy. Beautiful reminiscence. So glad you’ve hit the ten year mark! 🌻🌻🌻
Thanks Marian.