Awareness

It's breast cancer awareness month.

Does anyone else think it's hugely ironic that I just wrote that sentence?

It's probably no surprise that I am a bit bemused when Safeway checkers ask me if I want to "round up" for breast cancer research. I feel a strong urge to say two completely conflicting statements: 1) "Yes, make my contribution $1,000. That's nothing if that's all that's needed to spare anyone else this crap." and 2) "No thanks. I feel like I have already donated my vanity and fearlessness toward my own health. I think I'm good."

I keep thinking: Please - I don't want to be any more "aware." I want to be back in la-la land, when I didn't know how to pronounce adriamycin, or know precisely what it feels like to lose finger and toenails in whole sets. Or being ignorant of what it's like to get obsessed every couple of weeks about a recurrence of breast cancer and squander two hours reading worst-case scenario stuff on the internet.

Yes. I think I've had enough awareness. And I didn't even have to pray for "humility" or "patience" to get it!

Yet, I also realize that if this process wasn't happening (I still think of it in the active tense and probably always will), I wouldn't have had the extreme blessing of seeing God's daily provision, up close and personal. I did not use to be a person prone to a lot of emotion - I'm still not - but there have been many times where tears of thankfulness have soaked my cheeks in salty wet. I am in awe at how God has cared for us so perfectly this year in ways that I could not have guessed.

"And the very hairs on your head are all numbered."  Matthew 10:30

A dear friend sent me this Bible verse a few weeks ago as sweet encouragement. Because surprise! I have ditched the head coverings. It was probably a little too early (I got a few gaping stares from kids the first couple of weeks and even a couple of "What happened to your hair?"), but today my neighbor told me: "Wow! Your hair is finally long enough so it looks like a haircut someone would actually get!"

Thanks. I think.

It has also been almost six weeks since ditching my boobs. I was wondering how I would feel about not having anything up front since I knew early on that I did not want reconstruction (More surgeries? No thank you). Besides unthinkingly still reaching for a bra each day, I am pleased to report that I view their absence as a glorious thing. A few days ago I found myself whispering in the shower, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I thank God that the cancer was caught early, allowing me the ability to have a surgery that increases my chances and hope for a life with no cancer.