We were friends. So she sent my blog over to someone in her department. After I told the world about having breast cancer, Melinda shared my words. A year ago.
She shared them with Jenny. And Jenny reached out to me. “Would you be willing to share your treatment with others?” she asked me in a phone conversation, just weeks after my diagnosis. Little did I know that that conversation would completely change my life. And that Jenny would become a very cherished friend.
And even though I’d blogged forever, I had to pray on it, and talk to this guy about what that would mean. What it would be like. How everyone could then know that I had cancer. And he said, “do it. share your story. help other people.”
Hers was the first voice I talked with at Nebraska Medicine. Hers was the first one that reassured me and educated me and settled me. Her name is Deb. And she started as my nurse navigator. And quickly became my friend. My counselor. My family. At least part of the Nebraska Medicine family I would gain as cancer became a part of me.
And so, a year later, they had chronicled my whole journey. From chemo to mastectomy to radiation to fecal transplant. So much so that my year became a movie of sorts. To which Jenny said, “Invite your friends… we’ll celebrate…”
So I got to have a portion of my people all in one room. To celebrate me. Talk about surreal and undeserved. But such a gift.
Dr. Tandra and Dr. Hewlitt even came. My Oncologist and my GI guy {the one who knew me best from behind… because he gave me a tub of crap. My husband’s to be exact.}
And Deb. And Dr. Tandra and my main squeeze talked about me. Talk about humbling. Talk about surreal. All these people I admire. All these people I admire. Talking about me. Calling me an inspiration. And strong. And on and on. It was like an out of body experience.
I got to be among friends. And family. And while not everyone could make it, the ones who did… I got to hug and say thanks in person. How many people get that chance in their lives? Usually, the only times all these people are in one room would be at your wedding. Or your funeral. But I got to wrap my arms around these people. Laugh with them. Thank them for carrying me. All at once.
He talked. He talked about my therapy. My treatment. My journey. He talked about my strength. My health. My toughness. Dr. Tandra… the genius, the compassionate caregiver, the Dr. I was totally meant to have.
And I cried. I know, you’re surprised.
I tried to wrap my mind around why God has blessed me with all these people. All these wonderful people who lift me. I wondered if I lift them. If someone lifts them. If they get the gift of feeling so loved, too.
And I laughed, as the hubs said, “I’m not used to talking for the family… perhaps I should have Facebook Live on…”
And he spoke the words that we all know to be true. Ten years ago, my treatment would have looked very different. Ten years ago, my prognosis may have been grim. But because of advances in research, there are now drugs that target my type… my triple positive. And I was reminded, I just did cancer. What!?
And then they shared it. The capturing of my life over the last year. And again, it was so odd. To be the one on the screen. To have all of those people there to celebrate me. And I cried and cried. I couldn’t remember looking as sick as I did. I couldn’t remember being so bald. I couldn’t remember saying, “if it doesn’t kill me… maybe it’s the best thing to ever happen to me.” Which, of course, I think of now and think… whoa. That was a boooooold statement. Now… today… would I choose to have had cancer? Well. It’s impossible to answer. I wouldn’t have chosen anyone to have it in my place. Not anyone I know. So if it had to be someone, I guess it had to be me. If I were having to choose.
They gave me this gift. All these people. My care team. A gift of taking a really shitty situation. A really scary thing. A really life-changing diagnosis. And they made it full of life and joyful times and helped me feel empowered through it. They helped my live. And thrive. And feel alive.
And all these people said, yep. We’re along for the ride. We’re here to carry you.
And this man beside me… as God hand picked all the other people in my life to be here… he picked him to captain the ship. And hold my hand. And keep me afloat. And that… that is something that is pretty darn phenomenal. 
And at the end of it all, I know that some of us get to survive. Some of us get to thrive. Like me. And her.
And others… they have a different story. But they are still THRIVING. SURVIVING. And LIVING.
We each have our own story. Cancer or not. Nebraska Medicine or not. Strong tribe or not.
But no one should fight alone.
And I know, from my care team — from biopsy to Survivorship program, every component of their Multidisciplinary approach — that no one has to.
Without further ado… My story…
*This is not a sponsored post. These are my feelings and my feelings alone. I am and will always be forever grateful to Nebraska Medicine, Melinda, Jenny, and on and on, for allowing me to share my story. For allowing me to thrive. And for your friendships. You have changed my life more than I could ever really put into words. Thank you.
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