Cancer didn’t make me stronger; it sapped my strength like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
You know what made me stronger? Having to make tough decisions and stand by them. Calling bullshit on bullshit. Moving forward despite the fear. Getting up every single day to be a mommy to my little girl, no matter how crappy I felt. Showing up for every treatment, even when I wanted to hide under the covers. Being a part of a support network for other young women with breast cancer.
We don’t get through this alone; we are all so interconnected. There is strength in numbers, in solidarity, in community. We take turns having bad days, and on our better days we lend our strength to others. There is strength in knowing I am not alone. Others have traveled the road before me, and my experience will provide strength to those who come behind me.
There is strength in helping others, in standing up and fighting for a cause. There is strength in giving back, and paying it forward. There is strength in understanding, and being understood. And there is a great deal of strength in our collective knowledge of how to survive and thrive despite this nasty and devastating disease.
This is why I am so passionately supportive of my support network for young women with breast cancer, the Young Survival Coalition.
A week ago, YSC Seattle held it’s annual fundraising event. Instead of the usual party and auction, this year we held an athletic event. Tour de Pink indoor was our first cycling fundraiser, and it had a completely different kind of energy than the party. We packed the room with spin cycles, great music, and awesome people. Perhaps it wasn’t the same fun as partying, but there was collective energy of focus and determination that was quite different from what happens on the dance floor.
Energy builds on energy, focus encourages focus, and it’s hard to give up in a room packed with that much determination.
We raised $11,000.
Up next is a bigger, outdoor ride. Tour de Pink West Coast is a 200 mile ride from Thousand Oaks to Foothill Ranch, CA, to benefit YSC across the nation, and it’s less than two weeks away. I won’t be riding along, but I will be with them in spirit, you can, too.
Back to school sales start when the temps are still in the 90s. The thought of wearing leather, or wool, or flannel is laughable. The sun sets a little earlier, but not so early as to impact my day. And the trees might start to take on a little more color, but I’m never really sure whether it’s because fall is coming, or that we just went six weeks without rain.
*Seattlites don’t really want outsiders to know that it rarely rains here in August and September, so shhhh…. let’s just keep this between us.
We live on a little lake, populated by ducks year round. Theses ducks are a part of our landscape, any time of year. In the spring, they’re accompanied by ducklings, following their mama around the lake, until one day I notice that mama duck is accompanied by smaller ducks. By the time fall comes around, I can no longer distinguish the parents from their offspring.
The trees around the lake are just starting to show a hint of red and gold. The color change happens gradually, but I never experience it that way. One morning, in the not too distant future, I will look out over a brightly colored landscape and wonder when this transformation occurred.
It happens this way every year.
Just as every few months I look at my daughter and wonder when did she get so big, but she was maturing right under my nose all along.
The sickness and poorer part of our vows were not an invitation. I’ll have you know that despite pneumonia, cancer, myasethenia gravis, a combined 18 nights in the hospital, more than 10 dashes to the ER, 8 years of at least one and usually both of us as full-time college students, layoffs, hours cut, car trouble, eviction notices, healthy diets, exercise, a sweet and miraculously healthy baby girl, daily “adventures”, good friends, a lot of wine, belly laughs, a home full of books, homemade dinners, long conversations late into the night, snuggling, holding hands, and occasional long walks on the beach, we’re happier and more in love than ever. You should also be aware that we have not given up hope on the richer and health part of those vows. You know where to find us.
Also, Happy Anniversary to my amazing husband. I love you more.
He had just completed two flights from Seattle to Newark, then JFK to Rome, and he had just a few hours in Rome before hopping another flight to Istanbul. Somewhere in his rush to see as much of Rome as he could, he zagged when he should have zigged, and found himself in front of St. Paul’s Basilica (also known as the Papal Basilica St. Paul Outside-the-Walls) instead of the the more popular tourist destinations.
He said it wasn’t even all that much to look at from the outside, deserted even, but once he entered the gates – wow.
Sometimes that’s how it works. Sometimes it’s the errant zags that lead us to the magic – magic we wouldn’t have found if we weren’t in motion in the first place.
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I’ve been googling all morning, and I still haven’t figured out why “Outside-the-Walls” is so important that it became a crucial part of this basilica’s name. If any of you know, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
My husband just returned from a quick trip to Istanbul, where he presented a paper at the International Society for Iranian Studies conference. If you ever wanted someone with whom to discuss the Gothic Sublime, and repetition and imagery in Sadeq Hedayat’s The Blind Owl, I’ve got your man. Also, here’s some pictures he took of Istanbul.
Unfortunately, he had no time for sightseeing, but I think he got some great shots.
Above photos are all by Aaron Albert Haley
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