Affect/Effect

One thing that I hadn't anticipated about the diagnosis is the affect (and effect) it would have on others.  I knew, obviously, that my family and close friends would be sad, shocked, scared along with me.

But I hadn't expected to receive a message from a friend early on that my diagnosis had driven her to schedule her long overdue mammogram that she had been putting off.

I hadn't expected a message from a friend that my blog had helped her understand what her mother was going through in her mother's breast cancer recurrence. 

I hadn't expected that my colleagues would choke up when I told them about the diagnosis.

I hadn't expected that a coworker would start crying the first time she saw me on a work trip after the diagnosis.

I hadn't expected tears of joy when I told another coworker that my MRI after chemo showed a complete resolution.

I hadn't expected to receive cards from coworkers delivered to my office and cards from family and long time friends show up sporadically in my mailbox.

But...I also hadn't anticipated that I would be a walking "trigger warning."  So many people I know - my own family included - have suffered indescribable loss of loved ones due to this horrible disease.  I have had family tell me that they weren't ready to share my news with other family members, because of the effect it would have on them.  I have had friends apologize for being unable to read my blog, because it was too raw.  I have felt people pull back, because getting constant updates was too hard.

I don't hold this against anyone.  In fact, I appreciate the beauty in the honesty of our relationships, that they can share that with me and know it won't cost us our friendship.  I feel fortunate that I'm still here to write about my experiences, and help others understand what their loved ones are going through (albeit on different scales, and I can't pretend to speak on behalf of those with stage IV diagnoses). 

At dinner last night, the table next to us was talking about someone they all knew, who was dealing with a second bout of cancer.  I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but when I hear the words "chemo" my ears perk up.  I didn't listen to everything, as I was having my own conversation, but I heard enough to know that it was likely advanced stage cancer, and their conversation moved on to their own end of life desires and hypothetical funeral plans.  I have been walking around with this blog post marinating for a while, but it was at that point that I realized that I, too, may be the subject of someone's dinner conversation. 

I feel honored every time I receive a message from someone who has been newly diagnosed, or someone who had an abnormal mammogram and was scared, or someone who wanted to share that they had a scare and my experience gave them the courage to follow up (and receive benign findings!).  If the effect of going through this horrible experience allows me to affect the lives of those close to me, I feel it was not in vein.

And because this post touches on the fragility of life, and because my mind has been on this all day: I have to dedicate my thoughts and prayers to Kobe Bryant's family, and the families of all of the other 7 people who were on the helicopter that crashed today.  I have already been more aware of my own mortality with this experience, but Kobe's death and his daughter's death have driven this home.  I am hugging my babies a little tighter and I hope you are too.  Life, in all its struggles, is something we just cannot take for granted.