Journey Out of Pink

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

When I entered the doctor’s office, I was met at the door by a staff member thermometer in hand. After scanning my forehead, I was asked to sit in an unoccupied corner of the office. I noticed there was only one other patient in the waiting room, a gentleman also wearing a mask. I sat for about fifteen minutes before being called back to have my vital signs taken. After weight and blood pressure were recorded, I heard a slight knock at the door. Giving my approval to enter, a slight woman came into the room. She leaned toward the center of the room and extended her hand offering a fist bump. I’d never experienced that before, especially by the gloved hand of a doctor. We sat and talked going over my medical history. She entered information into the computer via a digital voice device allowing her to speak rapidly and make changes on the fly. After about fifteen minutes, she asked what type of insurance I had. I responded, “Blue Cross, Blue Shield.” She smil