the first meeting.

The first of many, that much I know. The surgeon was nice. I tried to absorb everything she said as she talked and showed us my mammogram images. It’s unclear if it has spread to my lymph nodes. If not, I am stage 1. If it has, I am stage 2. My lump is very small, but the pathology report lists “lymph-vascular invasion” which means it’s on it’s way to those nodes. I hope with all my being that it hasn’t gotten there yet.

Apparently I have very dense tissue and the images are hard to read, so an MRI is in order. We do know that I have a lump, a satellite lesion, and one or more microcalcifications – which means that it’s spread out enough that a mastectomy is recommended. I know that this has happened to so many women before me – it’s just hard to believe that I’m now one of them.

oh how I love the stars.

These fascinating, spectacular, twinkling little things. Millions and millions of them. Neverending in their beauty. I grew up staring at them from my dark backyard, laying on the cool grass alongside my sister, pretending we could feel the earth turning. And maybe we could.

Now, my stargazing is out the window. I chant with the littles, “star light, star bright…” and we silently make our wishes with our arms around each other.

Stars are so trustworthy, so reassuring. Night after night, they are there. Glowing, comforting, guiding. My favorite Twinkle verses are the lesser known ones:

When the blazing sun is gone
When he nothing shines upon
Then you show your little light
Twinkle, twinkle all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark
He could not see which way to go
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep
And often through my curtains peep
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark
Though I know not what you are
Twinkle, twinkle little star.

My journey will be long. It will be hard. I am quite sure I don’t even have any true comprehension of the difficulties of the process. I can only hope that I come out of this a better person. That I learn some important things about life. But no matter what I will remember that there will be an end to this, a time when I can reflect back on this year instead of wondering what it will hold.

And then there’s blue. Peace, serenity, calmness. Wisdom, confidence, trust. Healing, understanding, hope, faith. The colors of blue. I know I will not always have all of these, some days maybe none of them at all. But I will strive for them. I will. Every. Single. Day. I will wake up each morning and find the courage to make it through the day. Because I am stronger than you, cancer. You will see.