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I Keep Refusing to Die
It apparently freaks some people out
People will tell me I’m not being realistic. That I have to be practical. Or they pretend I’m faking it when I mention some of the pain I’ve had to endure while going through cancer treatments.
The reality is that some people are completely lacking in empathy — best to avoid them. Others live in a negative place and inherently adopt worst case scenarios. These are people who either stifle those attitudes around me or I will leave their presence. I need to live in life-giving spaces.
One reason I grow a garden.
In 2004 I was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer. It seemed to appear overnight. One week, I’d had a breast exam and seemed clear. Two weeks later, my skin was corrugated like an orange peel. That, in fact, is a warning sign of inflammatory breast disease.
When my doctor diagnosed me, he panicked.
He wanted to rush me immediately into surgery and take off both breasts. He wanted to get me on chemo and radiation right away too.
“Hold on a minute,” I tried to speak.
He talked over me. Then my husband at the time yelled at him to shut up and let me talk.
That was the best thing he could have done to support me.
