Nine years ago today, I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 27. I went through a mastectomy, two recurrences, four more surgeries, eight rounds of chemo, 30 days of radiation, a month-long hospitalization for pneumonia and sepsis, a year of Herceptin infusions, three years of Zometa infusions, and then started ten years of Zoladex injections and Arimidex.
Some years my cancer anniversary feels like a big party, and sometimes (like this year), it’s more subtle, and I feel more pensive than celebratory. So I’m going to spend most of today meditating, reflecting, praying and processing.
All that to say, I’m not going to write much more today — I’ll probably post more thoughts later this week.
For today, I want to acknowledge that it’s been a long, hard road. But I am so grateful for the doctors, nurses, friends and incredible family members who have walked each step with me. I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had, especially meeting the Somali girls and publishing The Invisible Girls.
And I’m forever indebted to God, who always loved me, never left me, and never let go.