Twenty Years Later

This weekend I spent some time with my BFF getting caught up. She'd been off at a conference for a week and we hadn't really seen each other before she left. 

As we sat chatting about nonsense, she says, "It's been 20 years this Wednesday."

I didn't even have to ask what she meant. I was immediately sent back 20 years to the day she called to tell me she had cancer. My heart sinks just thinking about that day. 

She'd been diagnosed with breast cancer! How? We're in our 30s? How could this be happening? 

What followed that diagnosis in April of 2003 was months of treatment that included multiple appointments, side-effect so horrible they were unimaginable, sadness, anger, more appointments, more side effects, etc? 

Sherrie and her brother the night she had to shave her head. 
He shaved his with her.

I knew immediately that she was going to need some significant support. We had a pretty good friend / family base, but something had to be organized. I knew I couldn't be the person to help "clean" her wounds or be able to take her to every appt, so I got to work organizing. That I can do.

 

I had people lined up to take her to appoints, to bring food, to sit with her, to help in any way we could. I kept myself at arms length to what was really going on. I couldn't deal with it. 

I knew it was about her and should be all about her. But I also knew I had to keep myself "healthy" to be able to help in any way I could. It wasn't until years later, and a lot of reflection, that I realized I was actually pretty (and irrationally, pissed at her. How dare she almost die on me? It was dark times for her and for me. She felt me pulling away, but didn't have the strength to deal with it. 

We've since talked about all of that. I'm not sure she fully understands where I was coming from, but at least we've communicated. 

Anyhow, back to 20 years later! If I'm being honest, I wasn't convinced we'd be here. For years after I worried that each doctor appt would result in bad news. She was holding her breath after each follow up and only after a positive phone call would she breath normal again. It was hard to watch. 

Eventually, that fear dissipated. It never went away for her (or for me). It got easier and less anxiety, but I think once you've gone through that type of trauma, there's always something there. 

She's celebrating in her own way this huge milestone and I'm here to cheer her on for another 20 years.