Ten years ago right now I was being prepped for surgery. I woke up that morning not sure truly about how I felt. If I’m honest with myself, brutally honest ten years later, part of me was terrified. But the other part of me just wanted the goddamn tumor out.
I still remember that my surgeon Dr. Dahlia Sataloff was wearing the most beautiful strand of pearls and really cool Dansko clogs that I’m pretty sure had a leopard pattern, or maybe it was ocelot. They were patent leather. My husband was there and my mother and her friend Debbie Robinson.
The surgery took place at Pennsylvania Hospital, the hospital I was born in 57 years ago. I remember at the time that was my ultimate good omen for that day because I had started life on the planet at that hospital. (Sorry I’m a little fey at times.)
Right now I am a bit of a puddle. When you are starting our journey like this you have goals of kicking cancer’s ass. But as the last ten years have taught me not everyone does, and I’ve lost some friends. To breast and other cancers. I have friends in treatment now. I did not know on this day ten years ago what ten years hence would be like.
Life is good and I am grateful. I don’t use the word blessed very often because I think it is over-used, but I am blessed. The birds are singing outside my window and my flowers are blooming.
One of my high school friends, Meredith, left me a present this morning. And a card and notes that reduced me to tears. She left me a card, beautiful little notes, and a selection of tiles from Moravian Pottery & Tile Works Museum in Doylestown, PA. She would have had no way of knowing that I think that’s a super cool place and that I’ve always wanted some Moravian tiles of my own. The surround in my great aunts fireplace growing up was made of Moravian tiles. They were more monochromatic but I still remember that designs.
To feel the love on a day like today is truly magical. I am lucky to be alive and I know it. Thank you to all of you who have been on this journey with me.
Ten years. Hello ten years.