Nine years!

Well, friends, today is the 9th anniversary of the day I received my cancer diagnosis. If you’ve known me over the years, you know that this is sort of a day of celebration for me. A time that I set aside to reflect on my time spent LIVING with cancer instead of fearing it. Sure, there have been plenty of scary times, but cancer has also taught me a lot about living. I’m not the same person as I was before that sunny January day in 2011. And to go a step further, that day itself is divided into two parts, too. There’s the first half of the day, where I took my 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter to a play date and then cruised around for a bit with the sunroof open. It was unseasonably warm, even for San Antonio, and we were soaking up as much sun as we could. We stopped for slushes at Sonic and sat on the patio to drink them. I was wearing a brown t-shirt, my favorite denim capris and my sparkly Reef flip flops. I remember sitting on that patio and watching them glimmer in the sun while my daughter played. We finished our slushes and headed home, feeling a bit invincible in the warm afternoon sun.

This all transpired during that fuzzy time in history where cell phones were a thing, but they weren’t THE thing, so we didn’t bring them everywhere and scroll them constantly. Gosh, I miss those days, but I digress… I entered our home through the garage just in time to hear my home phone ringing. A quick glance at the Caller ID told me that it was a call that I had equally anticipated and dreaded in the same measure. I answered it with the upmost trepidation, knowing that the voice on the other end would be giving me life-altering news, for better or for worse. And as it turned out, it was the extreme worse: ‘Lauren, you have been diagnosed with Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma and we don’t know how bad it is. Grab a pen and paper to write down all the specialist appointments that we’ve scheduled you for in the coming weeks.’

And honestly, I stepped outside my own body in that moment. For the one and only time in my life, I was watching myself from above while I took down the information. I even saw my daughter doing laps around the first floor on her ‘Inside Tricycle’ (Yeah, I’m one of those moms. Life is short. Ride your bike in the house if you want). I remember ‘Hover Above Lauren’ holding her breath for ‘On the floor Lauren’, while she felt her knees buckle beneath her and grabbed the back of a kitchen chair for support. I saw her sparkly brown flip flop break in the fall and saw my daughter rush over to see what was wrong with her mother. And then I saw her stand up, wipe a stray tear from her cheek and make the decision to act like nothing was wrong. To commit to not letting cancer change her life, or at the very least, that sunny Friday afternoon. So, she sat down at the kitchen table, in the very chair she had grasped for balance just moments before, and made Valentines with her daughter. She was a master at pretending that her mind wasn’t wracked with worry and that her heart wasn’t breaking at the possibilities and ‘What ifs?’ of such a heavy phone call.

And that was that. In one fell swoop, my life changed and you’d be hard-pressed to tell 2011 Lauren that it would have changed for the better. Sure, I’ve had my freak outs from time to time. And I may have cried myself to sleep more times than I care to admit in the coming weeks, months, and even years, but for the most part, I bucked the hell up and faced it all. What choice did I have? I was 29 years old and a young mother. I had a husband who counted on me and extended family that were facing their own health issues, too. I decided very early on that I wouldn’t wallow in my fear or allow myself much leeway for self-pity. And 9 years later, I see that commitment as a blessing. I feel a clarity in my life through my cancer diagnosis that I just didn’t have before. I love deeply and with my whole heart. I laugh manically whenever the mood strikes me and I try not to take life too seriously. I take risks and I relish them. If you mean something to me, I make sure you know it, even if it bolsters my reputation for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I’m an overthinker and an oversharer and I’d like to think those things are just two of my more endearing charms. And truth be told, I don’t mind if you don’t like it. The old Lauren would have cared big time. She would have perseverated over why she couldn’t please everyone and why someone didn’t like her modus operandi. But New Lauren tries to take it all in stride. Life is so damn delicate and I only have bandwidth for people who make my heart smile, respect my boundaries, spark something in my mind or do some schwa blend of all three. And yeah, I know I totally let me teacher roots show with that schwa reference…

Anyway, if you’ve followed my journey over the years, you know that I always share a picture of myself on this day. It’s kind of my, ‘See? I’m healthy and happy and kicking cancer’s ass with a smile’ nod to living my life limitlessly. And this year, as I pondered how I wanted to portray myself, I couldn’t help but settle on this sassy little cat filter. After all, 9 years and 9 lives both have a sweet ring to them, don’t they? Meow.

#LIVINGwithcancer #transparency