By Suzanne McCoy
I’m a 68-year-old woman who’s fallen madly and deeply in love… with herself. Sure, there’s parts of me that, at times, get on my nerves, but I’ll often look the other way. This wasn’t always the case.
After a nearly 25-year absence, my breast cancer returned to a place she once called home: my left breast. This time however, instead of a small overnight bag with just the essentials, she brought a much larger bag: a suitcase with a new appropriately-labeled luggage tag: INVASIVE! I was not happy to see her again.
I had two teenage girls. I had shared custody of my daughter from a prior relationship and my niece (who was very much like a daughter to me). Oh, and let’s not forget about our dog Coco, a rescue from a local shelter. At the same time, my ex (the other mother of my daughter), who I shared custody with, had been rushed to the hospital with a brain aneurysm.
So here came the big “What if?” — What if we both die? Her on the operating table… and me a slower but sure death. Who’s going to take care of the kids? And... what about Coco? Sure, we had relatives who we trusted to take the kids in and give them the love they would surely need… but what if they couldn’t take Coco? What then? Back to the shelter? I was not in a good place!
I was, however, in a relationship with a woman for the past 7+ years. This too... was not in a good place. In the beginning it was good. Other than me, a “toilet paper under” kind of gal, and her insisting the right way is over… it appeared we were on the same page… with the things that really mattered.
When my ex called me from the ER asking me to run to the house to take care of the kids, I remember thinking to myself: “My partner is not going to support me.” She had never been supportive in the past regarding me already having a pre-existing family. She had zero interest in becoming part of an extended family. I had no reason to believe that at this crucial time, things would be any different.
A week or so later, I headed to my partner’s house so we could spend some time together. I had been spending most of my time taking care of the kids while my ex was in the hospital. When I called her to tell her I was almost there, she began to rave and rant, shouting, “This is not what I signed up for! No one else would put up with this shit. Everyone here at work says… blah blah blah…” I had begun to un-hear her.
I knew then that it was now or never. I had to let her go. I won’t lie. It hurt. But I knew, if I was going to have my best chance at beating this cancer again, I needed to rid myself of this toxicity, to concentrate on another one. So, with the support of loved ones and a good medical team, I put those boxing gloves on, and brought the figurative semi-automatic (just in case). I kicked cancer’s butt a second time! I was overjoyed! I was grateful! Life was good! … Until it wasn’t.
A new battle had begun. A different kind of battle. I was still alive and breathing, but felt a new disease spreading. I was STUCK! No medical team could save me. I existed as a much dimmer version of myself. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the cancer returning. If it did, we would attack it like we did the last time, me and my medical team with surgery, hormone blockers, etc... In that case, I knew the enemy. We knew what weapons to use. It was a no brainer, really. But this battle... this was different. Who and where is the enemy? Why won’t they appear? Show yourself, dammit!
And then, one day she did appear. Staring back at the reflection in the mirror, I said, “l don’t know you.” She said, “I know you don’t, but you will. You WILL know me, and you WILL love me… like I love you.” Bittersweet tears fell from our eyes, just as they are now as I write these words.
It didn’t happen all at once, but slowly... surely... over time... I fell so deeply and madly in love with her. We searched for ourselves. We rediscovered one another. We saw, perhaps for the first time, who we really were, or had now become.
Together, we took selfies. We printed and displayed them on our living room wall. The scars reminded us not only of the battle we had won against cancer, but equally, if not more important (to us anyway), our victory over the battle within.
Until this time, I can honestly say, I have never really loved myself. In my own defense, I didn’t know that I didn’t. Cancer took my left breast, but it was the catalyst for saving this life. Had I not gotten my second bout of breast cancer, I may never have found the courage to leave a relationship that had become toxic. I may never have met the love of my life: me!
I am truly living proof that there is life and love after cancer. I also am living proof that you can be in love with two people at the same time. I recently met my “soulmate.” I am madly and deeply in love with both of us! What was that you said? “Who do I love more?” ;)
I wish for all of you who read this… the absolute JOY of falling for yourself!
Read More:
On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations
Discovering Your Divine Purpose with Dr. Sophia Edwards-Bennett
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