4 years ago today the veritable cat named Denial was let outta the bag. It was the day that I created my site on MyLifeLine. It was the day that I told everyone in my world that I had been given a cancer diagnosis. It was such a surreal day. I remember sitting at the little desk in the corner of that cavernous master bedroom trying to decide between MyLifeLine or CaringBridge…a seemingly massive decision.

I’d been given a huge packet of information from Sally Jobe and another from my breast surgeon and another from my oncology consult and yet another from my plastic surgeon’s office and I sat there with all of it. How do I communicate this? How do I say it? Do I even know how I feel? There is so much we don’t know so how do I know what I know? What I did know is that it was time to call it what it was and no longer live in the secret…that place can get dark, amiright? 

I remember finally deciding which site to use and feeling so accomplished. I remember building my profile on MyLifeLine. I remember the vivid purple and red on the screen…the profile page, the text boxes, the uploading of my profile picture; the thoughts running through my head as I created my site; the clicking of the keyboard as the words created my first post. I remember copying the link to send to my list of family, friends and social media. And I remember the ‘I can’t believe this’ that was on repeat in my head. . . 

As I was formulating those first-post words, I remember looking through my paperwork and packets from all my new doctors and seeing the word “survivorship.” I honestly thought it meant the meaning of survive that you see in obituaries. And for a moment I read my own obituary in my head: “Amber Havekost, 37, has passed away, losing her battle with cancer. She is survived by her loving husband, her three incredible daughters, her amazing parents, and her wonderful family of in-laws.” It rattled me to have that thought in that moment. It took my breath. It stabbed my heart. It also ignited a grit like none other. Of course, that is not what that word means but I didn’t find that out until much later, sometime during chemo, when I mentioned it to Angela and she giggled and explained what it meant as she hooked me up to my IV pump. 

I sit here today, in “Survivorship.” A place I didn’t know existed when this all started. A place that I’m grateful to be in. A place that is significantly harder than most understand. When I recall memories, they aren’t really memories by standard definitions…those tend to have a “that one time” sentiment. Instead, my “memories” are present products of past moments that won’t ever come to an end. Similarly, I may be “NED” (no evidence of disease) by the standard scientific definition…but because cancer has forever mangled and confused my immune system, because cancer stripped me of all of my estrogen, because cancer took a bunch of my lymph nodes, because cancer severed and stole body parts, I am actually walking evidence of a disease that loathes the human body and does whatever it can to destroy it. 

This is not ‘glass empty,’ it is educational. This is not pessimism, it is realism. This is not ‘not letting go,’ it is honoring the grit of surviving. This is not denial…that cat was let out of the bag 4 years ago. It is affirmation and validation and authenticity and testimony. #thisiscancer #thisissurvivorship

If you’ve survived something, perhaps you can relate.