You know that feeling, when you are watching your favorite super hero movie. And there is that scene. Where it seems like, they will fall. This is it, the defeat, the fall from grace, the end. We know it's all for show right? It won't really happen. But, this lump creeps in your throat. A tear might even settle in the base of your eye. You keep watching.
Our hero. The chosen one. The one who will save us all. If they can't triumph what hope is there for the rest of us?
But, just wait until the next scene, just hold on, here comes the strength. Here comes the miracle. Here comes the sidekick. Something we missed. A possibility.
You are frozen there watching, mind racing, searching for solutions, waiting for the time to run out, or the asteroid to hit, for the bridge to collapse, the building to topple, the world to end, you look down, and there is a time bomb strapped to your chest, you can't do anything, not a God damned thing but watch, and wait for the explosion.
That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like to be told by an untouchable person,
"The doctor called, and they said, I have breast cancer."
"Don't tell me
Everything that follows that sentence is like the teacher from Charlie Brown talking. the explanation, the classification, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma Triple Negative Breast Cancer, Stage One, Grade 3.
That was MY SISTER'S diagnosis nearly three years ago, and MY MOM'S nearly three weeks ago.
Don't tell me lightning doesn't strike twice. Don't tell me we come out stronger on the other side. Don't tell me everything is going to be ok. You DON'T know any of that and neither do I.
lessen the burden."
Telling people doesn't lessen the blow. It doesn't lift the weight. It puts the weight of your pain and sorrow on us. We feel like we have to hold you up. We know you will have questions we don't have the answers to. Or questions like "are you scared, your sister and now your mom?' Please think to yourself, would you like to play a game a cancer roulette? Then kindly keep this question to yourself.
The cancer is deemed "environmental" not genetic, aka a pretty shitty fuckin coincidence.
My mom only has girls, us girls only have girls.
So many sweet girls, so much worry to spread around. "Environmental" and "unfortunate coincidence," that doesn't work for me. I want answers I want more for my sister, my mom, myself, and I want more for these sweet baby girls.
We all know as a parent you will do anything to keep your kids from harm, ANYTHING. But, there is nothing we can do. Sure, environmental could be diet based, could be location based, but, I am saying there is nothing we can do that without a shadow of a doubt that will protect us or our three sweet baby girls from lightening.
For now we wait, we fight. We stand strong. We kneel and pray. We take down this ugly monster today. We face what we can see.
We defeat the visible immediate threat.
We put on our capes.
Do me a favor, self check, have a friend check, I don't care, someone needs their hands on those boobies, this is our best and sometimes our only, early defense. Click below for the proper way to squeeze your fun bags.
I will post public updates as my family sees it appropriate. If you would like to be s part of the Caring Bridge Community for more personal and up to date information throughout my mom's treatment please contact me. Thank you for all of the love and well wishes thus far.
Shauna Hyler, mommy of two beautiful girls! Working, blogging, and adventuring with the hubby and my sweet girls.