Nobody enthusiastically joins this group, but now it’s my time.
My official invite came Jan. 29 when I received the lousy news that I had breast cancer. This came after 20 years of careful watching and benign biopsies. In my family, it’s not “if” but “when” one of us joins the club. The Big 6-0 seems to be the magic number for the Big C for us. It happened to my mama and her mother exactly then.
Losing a breast didn’t slow either of them down much. Mama’s still going strong and 88 plus; my grandmother made it to 87. I may not have to make such a generous immediate flesh donation to join the club–a lumpectomy is planned–but I will also be catching some post-surgical rays provided by a radiation oncologist.
However, this isn’t the first time the Big C has knocked on our door. In 2012 my husband lost some essential parts to bladder cancer. A parade of nasty infections have all but knocked out his kidneys since. He was in the hospital having emergency dialysis on the day of my fateful biopsy.
As I join the Pink Warriors, it’s time to channel my favorite feminine fictional badass, Scarlett O’Hara. Like Scarlett, I’ll do what I have to do and “think about it tomorrow.”