Dear January 7,
I’ll never forget how you ushered yourself onto my eternal calendar. I was sitting at my desk while eating the most delicious salad with romaine lettuce, shredded chicken, blueberries, feta cheese, and Olive Garden dressing. A bottled, cold Coke was there too in order to balance out my “healthy lunch”. My phone was propped on a cute little stand from the office supply store and I was quick to recognize the name that popped up as it started to ring.
Dr. Kristin Schmidt – OB/GYN
Our conversation went exactly like this. I can literally remember every word.
Dr. Schmidt “Stephanie, it’s Dr. Schmidt. I just got your biopsy results and it’s not good.”
Me “Ok.”
Dr. Schmidt “It’s breast cancer on both sides. I need you to see an oncologist. I’ve already called ahead and she’s agreed to see you today. Are you available?”
Me “Yes, of course.”
… and at 3:45pm that same day, I found myself sitting in a room: myself, Don, and Dr. Shagufta Naqvi. Dr. Naqvi, drawing diagrams of each breast and where the cancer was and what kind. The stages and what that meant … and ultimately our next steps.
January 7, you are forever ingrained in my mind. But here’s what I want you to know:
You didn’t break me. You threw every possible wrench in the plan for me. You completely underestimated the strength of my body. And even more than that, you had no idea the power contained in my support system of family and friends.
January 7, you obviously didn’t know anything about me as a mom. The tears that I had to watch my children shed as we shared the news of cancer, as we shaved my head, as they were filled with fear as I went to surgery after surgery. Each of those tears was filled with a bionic strength that fueled me with even more determination to beat every cancer cell to complete fruition! You can do whatever you want to me, but when you hurt my kids … it’s another story entirely.
I’m not sure that you were responsible for COVID-19, but you tried to strip away everything that I love and depend on. Jobs for Don and I; dance season for Piper; and an awesome concert season for Avery. But, I don’t think you realized the blessing after blessing after blessing that would land at my door. My friends showed up in unbelievable ways. Actually, one by one, each unknowing to the other, our every need was met. It was other-worldly and truly a blessing from God.
You didn’t know that by ripping the rug out from under us, you would allow Don to attend every doctor’s appointment, every chemo session, and be there holding my hand for every side effect. I never had a surgery delayed despite state and local mandates. Take that, January 7.
Am I done? Am I healed? No, I’m not. But I’m almost there. I’m so close.
Oh January 7, you had no idea who you dealt this hand to. My will to live and to thrive and grow old is far more than you could deliver in one lunchtime phone call.
You underestimated me.
