A Picture

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, I’m not sure I have a thousand, but I do have some words to say about the above picture.

Today is my half-birthday. And no, I do not celebrate this day. There is no fanfare. No balloons. No cake. Usually no mention. But today, I found myself pausing and letting the time lapse, what this day means, sink in. Six months past my 41st birthday.

So, let’s talk about that picture. Me on my 41st birthday. June 8, 2023. The version of me in this photo had cancer growing inside her and didn’t know it. She hadn’t received her first mammogram. She didn’t even know this wild rollercoaster, The Breast Cancer Express, was waiting around the corner to accept her ticket. Blissful ignorance.

Since this photo, I’ve had a bunch of mammograms, ultrasounds, MRI, biopsies, and recent surgery to remove the cancerous masses and reconstruct what’s left. That seems like a lot, but truly I’ve only just pulled the harness over my head, ridden up that first hill, and maybe turned a corkscrew or an upside-down loop or two. This ride is far from over.

The twists and turns of this rollercoaster during these upcoming days, weeks, and months are unknown. Six months from now, I’ll celebrate my 42nd birthday, and I’m sure I’ll take photos to mark the occasion. Who I hope I see in the picture, my birthday picture, six months from now is not a woman hiding scars. Not a woman who wishes this had never happened to her. Rather, I hope I see a woman who is proud of the journey, proud of my journey. I hope I see a fighter. A warrior. I hope I just see me.