Rays of Resilience: 31 Stories in 31 Days. So many people around the world have been affected by breast cancer, yet no two breast cancer journeys are the same. This Breast Cancer Awareness Month, we’re celebrating a new survivor every day. Their resilience is an inspiration to us all.
My name is Diana.
This is dedicated to Gloria Gaynor and her song “I Will Survive.”
Two of the most important lessons I learned about being diagnosed with breast cancer at 47 were how a positive attitude affects healing, and the role of creativity in healing. For me, writing has been my lifelong passion. I wrote a lot about my journey — as a way to heal myself, but also to help others navigating similar journeys. I also listened to a lot of music, and one of my favorite songs was Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” the lyrics of which became my mantra when I was diagnosed 17 years ago, and continues today. Not only have I survived, but many say I’ve thrived.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve written many articles in addition to publishing two books: “Healing With Words: A Writer’s Cancer Journey” and “Writing for Bliss: A Seven-Step Plan for Telling Your Story and Transforming Your Life.”
I’ll never forget the words my surgeon uttered back in 2001 when he told me of my diagnosis of DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ): “If this experience doesn’t rivet you, nothing will. You’ll never look at life in the same way.”
He was right. My transformation following my diagnosis affected my physical, spiritual, and emotional well-being.
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His words continue to echo in my mind to this day. From a physical standpoint, I can acknowledge and accept that my body will never look and feel the same. My daily glances in the mirror continue to be a constant reminder of my breast cancer journey. There’s no escaping that truth. I can hide under my clothing, my covers, or in my closet, but in the shower and during lovemaking, I’ve learned to accept my new landscape.
People say that scars give us character, and I’ve worked hard to convince myself that this is true. I tell myself that the scars don’t really matter because the important thing is that I’ve survived, even though the moment I heard my doctor’s words all I wanted to do was die. I thought that death would be a better alternative than having the part of me that had nursed and nurtured all three of my children mutilated — the part that symbolizes femininity, the part men often glance at before looking into a woman’s eyes.
Surviving the emotional roller coaster of having a breast removed reminds me of the old adage “From all bad comes good.” I’ve learned what makes me happy and what is important in my life. In addition to daily meditation and listening to healing spiritual music, I’ve come to realize that my writing grounds me, makes me happy, and helps me survive. I know that I need to surround myself with positive-minded people who provide healing energy, those who make me feel good about myself.
I suppose this is what intuitively happens when you come face-to-face with your own mortality — you try not to allow people into your life who drain you of the vital energy that is essential for your own healing. For me, it felt like I was shoring up my spirit’s natural defense mechanism.
I’d always been a productive person, but my cancer diagnosis brought with it a sense of urgency to share my words and passions with the world. Immediately after my diagnosis and during my healing period, I went into overdrive, burning the candle at both ends and putting out book after book.
Then I was confronted with another transition: I turned 64. For a short time I turned from thriver to survivor. I just wanted to “be,” and not be as productive creatively. Perhaps it was getting senior-citizen discounts at the movie theater, or the regular arrival of the AARP magazine in my mailbox that forced me to address my mortality. Whatever happened, a switch flipped inside me. I made a point of slowing down . . . and doing more than smell the roses.
I decided to be grateful for my life, spend more time in nature, and read more rather than produce more. Given my lifelong commitment to care for others (I was trained as a registered nurse), I decided to turn that compassion inward and indulge in more self-care. For years I’d taken myself for granted. It felt good to offer gratitude and empathy to myself.
Sure, when diagnosed with something like cancer, the possibility of a recurrence is always in the back of your mind, as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise. However, positive thinking, thriving, surviving, and self-care should always be in the forefront.
As Gloria Gaynor sang in her song “I Will Survive,” it took all the strength I had not to fall apart. As I repeatedly told myself that cancer was no longer welcome in me anymore, I realized that as long as I knew how to love, I would stay alive.
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