Five Years Since My Breast Cancer Diagnosis

right around my first chemo day

Five Years.

Five years ago this week, on August 30th at around 10 AM, my breast cancer was confirmed. I met with my breast surgeon for the first time with my mom sitting next to me as we looked at my mammogram—which also showed my piercings that my mom did NOT know I had.

(I'll write about that some other time. It's a HILARIOUS story.)

Anyway, back to my current train of thought... Honestly, I’m having mixed feelings - both about my journey and where I am now vs where I was then.

For the uninitiated, five years is a BIG deal in cancer world. It's one of those milestones you hear about almost immediately after you're diagnosed. Doctors talk about five-year survival rates.

Cancer survivors talk about five years cancer-free. Generally the milestone is five years until you can breathe a little easier.

Except my five years didn't exactly go according to plan - she said in the most unserious voice in the world.

Just to sum it up for you in just a few words:

Chemo. A double mastectomy. Radiation. Reconstruction. Remission. Celebration for my 30th birthday!

Then the news no one wants to hear: “your cancer is back and it’s moved”

More treatment. More radiation. More appointments. More specialists. More scans.

Many many cold waiting rooms.

oh look its me.

---

I don’t really keep track of these types of milestones regularly, so when I realized my five-year cancer-versary was coming up, I started wondering what exactly I was supposed to celebrate.

Five years since diagnosis?

Five years of being a cancer patient?

Five years of having this stupid disease and all its annoying twists & turns?

All of the above?

None of the above?

And to put it mildly, I have...FeEliNGs.

And here I am again.....

I don't think I could have imagined my life now on that first day of my diagnosis.

Because five years ago, I couldn't possibly have imagined the life I'm living now - not just physically, but also mentally.

There are pieces of the person I was before cancer that I miss desperately.

There are pieces of that version of me I barely remember.

And weirdly, there are pieces of myself now that I don't think would exist if cancer hadn't come along and completely blown up the life I thought I was going to have.

Don’t get it twisted - I’m not “grateful” for cancer. Cancer sucks ass. 0/10. Would not recommend. Ghetto as hell.

Begrudgingly, I am grateful for how my life has changed due to this scourge.

I know my body differently.

I advocate for myself differently.

I love people differently.

I think about time differently.

I’ve learned the power of “NOPE”.

I've learned that carrying this is really hard, but I'm capable of handling it.

I've learned the power of fully processing and feeling an emotion so I can actually move through it.

I've learned that true strength looks different than I thought it did.

I've also learned how incredibly ordinary life can become again - and how those routines provide stability.

I’ve learned that there can be good times among the bad - and so much laughter.

I’ve learned that there is a whole life to live during and after cancer - with real plans.

There was a point in my life where I didn't know if I'd ever have that again.

Now I do.

Not every day. Cancer still likes to make its presence known because apparently it has boundary issues - like seriously Brenda, stop touching me.

But there is so much more space around it now.

Cancer doesn't occupy every square inch of my life anymore - not like it did in the beginning.

At the early part of my journey, every one of my thoughts were around “how will cancer impact this thing I want to do or want to eat?” I’m finally at the point in my journey where cancer doesn’t get a say now. Consideration sure. But not an active vote in what I do with my life.

If I was going to celebrate anything, not having cancer haunt my every thought might be the thing I'm celebrating most.

Five years ago, cancer became part of my story.

For a while, it felt like it was going to become the whole story.

But here’s the thing I didn’t know then, that I know now: Cancer didn’t become the whole story.

I'm still here.

Still building things.

Still making plans.

Still laughing those full belly laughs with Adrian.

Still occasionally losing my mind.

Still causing my parents headaches.

Still cheering my brothers on.

Still meeting people and making friends.

Still finding inspiration in nature.

Still dreaming about what comes next.

And maybe that's what five years means to me.

Not that cancer is over.

After everything, all the ups and downs, steps forward and steps backward -

I'm still here and my life is so much bigger than cancer.

And for that I can be grateful.

Talk again soon!

OLIVIA