Before that Stage 2 IDC diagnosis in September, I thought I did a good job cruising through the challenges and joys of life. I was making concrete plans for near and distant future, not just for myself but for the family, and execute them one by one in accordance with the time table, which I also created, with approval of the entire household. It’s like everything is under control and since I am good at it, I was tasked with this “control” responsibility, which I do not regret. I maintained the balance until this lump in my breast turned-out to be invasive and behaviorally very aggressive.
The holiday trips or the vacations that I used to plan many months ahead of time were now replaced with regular trips to Kaiser for treatment or other related appointments. My hair will be replaced by wigs and the hours I spent ironing my hair to get a perfect straight will soon be over. Abraham resents this, he likes my real hair, but it’s okay. It is just a small share of suffering compared to the other patients I met at the chemo salon who had severe cases.
Cancer is a strange gift, said a breast cancer survivor, it is indeed. I think only God can take this gift back. When I was diagnosed, I know I needed help to pray. I believe, I have faith… but I am not sure my prayers would be enough, so I solicited prayers. The emails, text messages, and phone calls kept coming. I feel loved. Friends are like God’s angels, they give me strength, and they give me happiness. On my first chemo, Linda missed work to be with me. Despite the time difference in US Mainland and Guam, Buh prayed for me that hour, the giant strawberry juice (my description of Adriamycin, the vesicant that kills active cells, one of my 3 chemo drugs) syringes was hooked into my IV. My friends from work in the
