Saturday, June 11th
The next day was a blur of working. Yes, I went to work the very next day. What else was I supposed to do, sit around and worry?
Work was hard, very hard. That day happened to be the Race for the Cure in St. Louis. I know, weird. You would think that would make me feel better, but it didn’t. It was like I couldn’t escape. People were shopping in my store with their race t-shirts on. I felt like everywhere I looked I was reminded of my new diagnoses. I just wanted to forget for a while, but I couldn’t. On my breaks I just sat in the office and cried as I pumped breastmilk for Milo. What a very hard thing to do. Pump milk from a boob with cancer. A boob that could kill you is also feeding your little boy. (And yes, I asked the doctors more than once if it was okay to continue breastfeeding) I joked with my coworkers about dying and how Jimmy would have to find Milo a new mom and give him brothers and sisters. Most people at work didn’t find that funny. It is so awkward to tell people that you have cancer. There is no breaking the ice, and it always feels forced. I didn’t want or need the sympathy. I wanted them to know why I was acting so weird. Everyone was so kind. I started to hear what became the main response to hearing my awesome news. I AM SO SORRY. I felt their sincerity, and my main response soon became Thank You. What does all that mean… I still don’t know. I am sorry… They are sorry. They feel bad for me. They hurt for me. They feel for me. Or maybe it is just the right thing to say. Maybe they say it without feeling because they know that is what is supposed to be said. And me, then there is me… Thank you… Thank you for what? For being sorry? It is not the right response but it was all that I had… Slowly people would say, “I am praying for you” or “You are in my thoughts”. That deserved a Thank You that meant something. So, anyway like I said before, there is no wrong thing to say because even I don’t know how to respond. The work day was over. I drove home with thoughts swirling through my head. I never thought “I can’t fight this”, but I did wonder for how long I could fight it. Remember, at this moment I didn’t know anything except that it was an aggressive breast cancer.
Dominique, my sister, came over that night. We both really didn’t want to be alone. We watched tv, hung out, and talked. Milo was sleeping, so it was just the two of us. I showed her the book Mom brought over and I explained breast cancer. We both learned more about different kinds, grades, and stages than I hope anyone has to know. We could have cried but we didn’t we just hung out and had a good time.