I was diagnosed with Stage IIb breast cancer with 2 positive nodes last year and went through the whole nine yards of mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation and now Herceptin. Since then, I've been an avid lurker in breast cancer sites, posting comments anonymously from time to time, always as a guest, never a member.
I guess I wanted to believe Cancer was a world I visited once, a place I could leave far behind. While I admired the spirit and ***** of the many women who generously and openly shared their cancer experience, I did so at a distance, as if determined to say: I've been there, but I don't live there.
It was a brave face I was putting on that allowed me to go to work, attend meetings, attend parent-teacher meetings with the unbridled enthusiasm of a young mom who volunteers to bake the cake and bring the biscuits.
Well, I am less brave now and that's a good thing. I no longer find it surreal that I could be in a board meeting in the morning and hooked to an IV in the afternoon, getting a drug that could save my life. It's a new normal. It's a new world. It's populated with people who speak of drugs, drains, drips and dreams -- and I speak their language. Strangely, finally, I feel right at home.
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Why Pavarotti?
