Uh huh. You read that right. The Cancer Booty Call. It really exists.
When I was first diagnosed, so many friends and family rallied around me, did their own research and scoured their social networks. Many of you sent me private notes offering to introduce me to your mother, aunt, co-worker, or a friend similarly situated to me. I read and re-read all of your offers and had to decide for myself if I wanted to reach out to a total stranger to talk about what was about to happen to me.
In the end, I took two of you up on your offers (thank you Bess and Katie). I ultimately decided that the people you were going to introduce me to were not really “strangers”, rather, they were just like me — and they’d already weathered the storm — so why not take their advice? They must’ve done something right, right?!!!
I placed those outgoing calls and am ever grateful I did. Being able to talk to somebody who’d “been there, done that” helped give me perspective. Helped me to understand what was about to happen. Helped me mentally prepare. Helped me realize that I will live and life will go on. They were living proof of that.
At this point, I’ve been on the receiving end of many a cancer booty call from you and/or your friends, moms, aunts, sisters, coworkers and college friends. It saddens me to think how many of these calls I’ve had with you and your loved ones — cancer is just so stupid… and mean… and everywhere. But, nothing makes me feel better, as a person and as a survivor, than to help your loved ones as they begin their own cancer battle.
It makes me happy to think that I am now the person that weathered the storm — someone out there weighs the pros and cons of talking to me, a quasi-stranger, and decides to go for it. I know it’s not an easy decision, or one that’s arrived at without much consideration. Just know that those of us on the receiving end of this particular booty call are flattered and happy to help in any way we can.
PS. My check-up with Garrett went well. My white blood cell count was elevated so I had to behave myself on our cross country flight to Andrew and Katherine’s wedding (and at the wedding itself). I don’t have my tumor marker results yet, so nothing to report on that front. Other than that, we talked a lot about the fact that my left implant (cancer and sentinel node removal side) pocket is stretching and my implant is sort of floating out toward my arm pit — leaving rippling and ribs exposed around my fake cleavage. I’ll have to talk to my plastic surgeon and physical therapist in greater detail about this as it’s not G’s forte. In the meantime, I’ve started wearing sports bras to try and keep the damn thing from drifting any further out of the pocket.