Bringing awareness.

Let me tell you a story.

Actually, my story (like many stories) begins with someone else's story. I won't go too much into detail, since it's really not my story to tell, but I feel like it needs to be included as a prologue of sorts.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a woman who was good and moral and kind. Some of you may know to whom I'm referring. She was a lot like me, in many respects (except, you know, I'm not quite as good and moral and kind). She was young, married, a mother, and basically did everything right. But, one day, she was unfortunately diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. Here is where our stories diverge, because while I was lucky enough to "beat" this disease, her story sadly ends with her tragic, untimely passing.

I mention this woman because, again, it wouldn't be possible for my story to begin without her. Before, I thought breast cancer was this invisible disease that only afflicted women of a certain age. I didn't know anyone who was currently or previously had been diagnosed with it. I certainly didn't know anyone who died from it. But then it happened to someone I knew, who was very young like me, a mother like me, someone who was least deserving of such a horrible fate. And while I could only mourn for her and her family's loss from afar, I also realized:

If it could happen to her, it could also happen to me.

It was the wake-up call I didn't know I needed. I started checking for lumps religiously after that, every time I showered in the morning, as I changed into pajamas at night, sometimes randomly during the day. I felt a little silly sometimes, because I felt so young worrying about something like breast cancer (I mean, a woman my age is still not legally allowed to get a mammogram), especially since I don't have a history of that particular cancer in my family. But I still did it anyway, feeling like I've "done my part" every time, even though I never found anything.

Then, four days before my 30th birthday to be exact, I found something. Something big. I immediately feared it was cancer. And even though I tried to rationalize otherwise, I knew in my heart that I was probably screwed. And my first thought (after "Oh !@#$") was to thank this aforementioned woman, who had passed away only a few years before. Because, whether she had intended to or not, she had just saved my life. If I hadn't known about her experience with breast cancer, I never would have bothered to check myself and would have been totally oblivious to that despicable tumor growing inside of me. I hate to say it, but it's true: I'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for her.

And here we are, in October, ten months after my initial diagnosis.

October is "Breast Cancer Awareness" month. I used to think this was stupid, like, who isn't "aware" of breast cancer? But now I see that Breast Cancer Awareness isn't about being "aware" of the disease - it's more about being "aware" that the disease could strike you or someone you love. Also, it's about celebrating all of the brave women (and men - looking to you, MM) who fought this particular disease and made it through with battle scars, as well as honoring those who were taken away from us. Kind of like Veteran's Day, but for breast cancer. And we must remember that those who are gone didn't "lose" the battle (I hate this win/lose nonsense); they fought just as hard and had just as much hope of survival, and even one woman getting a mammogram/ultrasound when they normally wouldn't means that their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

And now, for my requisite plug: Breast Cancer Awareness month is also about bringing awareness to the fact that although breast cancer research has come so far from where it was, say, ten or fifteen years ago, there is always something new on the horizon that could save even more people. My current immunotherapy treatment is a combination of one drug that has been around for fifteen or so years and another drug that only became available since September 2014 (so, it's fairly new). That drug was made possible by the trials, which was made possible by the research, which made possible by - you've guessed it - money.

More specifically, donations. But, while I'm sure the American Cancer Society and Susan G. Komen are both organizations that could benefit from your contributions, my humble suggestion is if you would like to donate to breast cancer research, please consider giving directly to your local hospital that researches and/or treats breast cancer (like Memorial Sloan-Kettering in NYC, or The Hospital at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, or the University Medical Center at Princeton-Plainsboro - just to name a few examples in my area). Sometimes it's easier to give to something with more concrete results, where there's tangible proof of your charity. I know I wouldn't be here today had it not been for so many other factors: my wonderful oncologist and amazing hospital, a particular combination of drugs, other people with breast cancer, the support of my family and all of you.

And though only time will tell whether I live "happily ever after" or not, at least, for now, I'm living.

Resurrection.

You know what "they" say: the years are short and the days are long.

Has it already been ten months? It feels like time has been passing at the speed of forever, and yet, in the grand scheme of life, ten months is just a blip in time. But so much can happen in ten months. In that time, a human fetus forms, grows in utero, and is born as an adorable, life-breathing bundle of helplessness. In that time, couples plan weddings; families prepare funerals; people complete their final year of education. In ten months, a person could be single, married, divorced, childless, a parent, employed, unemployed, healthy, sick, living, dead... and the worst part is, sometimes you never knows what's going to happen to you and when it's going to happen until it's already here, and by then it might be too late.

But, I'm here to tell anyone who will listen that it is never too late.

Nothing is ever perfect or truly easy, and mistakes will be made regardless of how much you try to avoid them. But what makes life so amazing is that there are so many opportunities for second chances. (Even this blog is being resurrected for the sake of an update, so my point extends beyond human life.) And think of all the people rooting for you - even total strangers whom you've never met, who provide a source of comfort and support when you most need it. Kind of like a neighbor lending you sugar. I don't think it's really possible to "start fresh," per se, because so much has happened and it's hard to forget the trauma of it all. But, just because you shouldn't forget doesn't mean you should also give up.

Cancer is interesting because it's the only thing in this world that has a mutual hatred. A man might inexcusably still live by the teachings of Mein Kampf, for example, but cancer can take his mother, his son, his best friend, his own life away from him. A woman might have an irrational animosity toward someone else, but the moment the latter is diagnosed with cancer all of that "sworn enemy" hatred goes out the window. Because we might disagree about immigration or gun control, but everyone can acknowledge that cancer in its every form is the absolute worst. The very word is enough to cause fear, anger, hate, suffering (which, of course, leads to the dark side).

But in a world that seems bleak with school shootings and terrorist beheadings, my experience with cancer has continued to show me the resilience of the human spirit and the benevolence of humankind. It is what keeps me going when I find myself on the dark side, a beacon of light in a storm, and I thank you all for this amazing gift.

Those lemons may be sour as hell but they sure can make sweet lemonade. All you need is a little sugar, borrowed from your neighbor.

(Please forgive the slew of cliched metaphors - I'm in that kind of mood...)