This is 40. This is MBC.
Four years and three months ago, I found out that the breast cancer I thought I had survived and beaten was back. It was back, and this time the reports were using words like “metastasis” and “significant findings,” which, when I looked them up, confirmed my worst fears – this time there was no cure. Not only was there no cure; Dr. Google informed me that the average life expectancy after a metastatic breast cancer diagnosis was just three years. Since I was only 35 at the time, that meant I wouldn’t even make it to my 40th birthday.
Not many people are excited about turning 40. For whatever reason, that’s the age when people start thinking of themselves as, maybe not old, but definitely no longer young. Until this moment, I had never thought about the fact that growing old is a privilege not everyone gets. A privilege I might not get. I remember sitting in my car crying at the prospect.
And yet, a year ago, I surpassed that three-year life expectancy. I affectionately referred to my celebratory party last August as my “I’m Not Dead Yet” party (although my best friend more politely termed it “Living in the Plus Years”). Now, I’ve completed my first plus-one year and have started in on the second. But even more exciting is the fact that I will be celebrating my 40th birthday in less than one month!
Unlike many others celebrating this milestone, you won’t find me decorating in black or doing much bemoaning about being old now. Four years ago, I thought I wouldn’t even live to be “over the hill.” But my big birthday has still been on my mind a lot. I’ve wanted to mark reaching this milestone and yet have also been hesitant to plan a celebration without another all-clear from my doctor. Thankfully, I got that all-clear on Thursday – my scans continue to show stable disease and no new cancer to contend with!
I find it so hard to believe that I’ve lived four years with this disease, and yet, a few weeks ago, I met a woman who has had metastatic breast cancer for over TEN years and is still going strong. Maybe that will be my story, too??
It is a weird feeling to be caught between dying and living, though. My life doesn’t look anything like what I hoped and dreamed it would. But it’s also nowhere near my worst fears of being bedridden or dead by now. Still, how does one live in this no man’s land, undead? You can’t really pretend the cancer’s not there. It’s impossible to forget and it does limit what I can do. Yet I’m still alive and still able to be reasonably active, so I don’t want to just roll over and play dead.
For the past four years, I have pretty much taken each day as it comes, almost as if I’ve been holding my breath; even planning something a few months into the future has felt risky. Does making it to the milestone of 40 mean that I will be brave enough to start speaking in the future tense again? I’m still here. So many friends and loved ones have died this year while I keep getting good report after good report. It doesn’t feel fair. Why do some of us survive and others die? Why do some people with a big presence leave this world and others, like me, whose world often feels very small and insignificant, live on?
I frequently think that my presence in this world doesn’t matter or make any difference. And yet, today, I feel God saying that I’m still here because my presence does matter. Nothing He does is without purpose and He doesn’t make mistakes. With my newly granted license to live, I’m asking myself, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (Mary Oliver, The Summer Day).
This is 40. This is MBC.
Not many people are excited about turning 40. For whatever reason, that’s the age when people start thinking of themselves as, maybe not old, but definitely no longer young. Until this moment, I had never thought about the fact that growing old is a privilege not everyone gets. A privilege I might not get. I remember sitting in my car crying at the prospect.
And yet, a year ago, I surpassed that three-year life expectancy. I affectionately referred to my celebratory party last August as my “I’m Not Dead Yet” party (although my best friend more politely termed it “Living in the Plus Years”). Now, I’ve completed my first plus-one year and have started in on the second. But even more exciting is the fact that I will be celebrating my 40th birthday in less than one month!
Unlike many others celebrating this milestone, you won’t find me decorating in black or doing much bemoaning about being old now. Four years ago, I thought I wouldn’t even live to be “over the hill.” But my big birthday has still been on my mind a lot. I’ve wanted to mark reaching this milestone and yet have also been hesitant to plan a celebration without another all-clear from my doctor. Thankfully, I got that all-clear on Thursday – my scans continue to show stable disease and no new cancer to contend with!
I find it so hard to believe that I’ve lived four years with this disease, and yet, a few weeks ago, I met a woman who has had metastatic breast cancer for over TEN years and is still going strong. Maybe that will be my story, too??
It is a weird feeling to be caught between dying and living, though. My life doesn’t look anything like what I hoped and dreamed it would. But it’s also nowhere near my worst fears of being bedridden or dead by now. Still, how does one live in this no man’s land, undead? You can’t really pretend the cancer’s not there. It’s impossible to forget and it does limit what I can do. Yet I’m still alive and still able to be reasonably active, so I don’t want to just roll over and play dead.
For the past four years, I have pretty much taken each day as it comes, almost as if I’ve been holding my breath; even planning something a few months into the future has felt risky. Does making it to the milestone of 40 mean that I will be brave enough to start speaking in the future tense again? I’m still here. So many friends and loved ones have died this year while I keep getting good report after good report. It doesn’t feel fair. Why do some of us survive and others die? Why do some people with a big presence leave this world and others, like me, whose world often feels very small and insignificant, live on?
I frequently think that my presence in this world doesn’t matter or make any difference. And yet, today, I feel God saying that I’m still here because my presence does matter. Nothing He does is without purpose and He doesn’t make mistakes. With my newly granted license to live, I’m asking myself, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (Mary Oliver, The Summer Day).
This is 40. This is MBC.
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