"I am not my cancer"

There's an ad for some drug related to cancer therapy with the caption, "I am not my cancer." The message is that while I may HAVE cancer, I'm not letting it dominate my life - it is not central to who I am. I have two friends dealing with their cancers right now who are living proof that this is the only way to live, truly live.

I snuck into town on May 1 for my friend Terry's wedding to her beloved Chip. After dating for 10 years in a long-distance relationship (she in Michigan, he in Florida) they decided to tie the knot and be each other's best friend and support forever. My friend Lesley and her husband Bill picked me up at the hotel so we could go to the ceremony and reception together, at The Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn. I met Terry and Lesley 7 years ago when they enrolled in the women's Leadership Development program I was co-facilitating. Ann and Kelly round out the group affectionately known as Group 5 - the first and only Group 5 in all 4 programs we ran. It was a special program, these are special women, and we have a special bond together. I wouldn't have missed Terry's wedding for the world.

Back in 2003, as we were finishing up the program, Terry told us she'd had a recurrence of breast cancer and would need a mastectomy this time. She'd had a lumpectomy, chemo, and radiation the first time. She seemed so calm to me, so courageous but not melodramatic in any way. She showed up at our graduation ceremony just days after surgery, since her being there would mean so much to all of us.

The next year, Lesley was diagnosed with breast cancer and would undergo chemo and a lumpectomy. Lesley has two beautiful young daughters and has no intention of letting this thing called cancer stop her from being the wife, mother and businesswoman she is. I met her for lunch shortly after her surgery and she looked as gorgeous as ever - turban covering her bald head and face fully made up - dressed to the nines. We hugged so tightly - I recall feeling so blessed to have this woman call me friend.

Fast forward to the summer of 2007, July 1, and the call from my doctor that I had breast cancer. With Terry and Lesley as models, I think I moved through that time with a courage and grace that came from knowing that I am not my cancer and that how I reacted was a choice. I chose to bless my doctors and pray for healing. I chose to believe that this part of my journey was crucial to becoming the woman I needed to be in the world. I was working on my master's thesis at the time and also working on coaching certification - both were also preparing me to become the person the world needed me to be. I had a lumpectomy and radiation and am cancer-free. I take Arimidex to keep my hormones in check so they don't provide a nurturing environment to any rogue cells. I'll take that for at least two more years, 5 years being some magic number for survivors.

Last year, both Terry and Lesley experienced recurrence of their cancers. Terry has Stage IV liver cancer and is undergoing continuous chemo therapy. Lesley had a mastectomy and chemo. Last month Lesley was diagnosed with a different cancer in her other breast and will have a mastectomy and chemo again next week.

Last November Terry participated in the San Diego 3-day Walk for the Cure. One of her nieces has been walking in this fundraiser in Terry's honor for a few years now. When Terry signed up to participate, she did so in my and Lesley's honor. Ann and I had dinner with Terry last fall when she told us she was going to retire in the spring and that she and Chip would be getting married in May. Brilliant, I thought. Grab every last bite of life you can grab, Terry.

So here we are, sitting in The Henry Ford, a few hundred of us, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride. Suddenly you could hear the click, click, click of an old car and around the bend, here came Terry. Her driver opened the door and out she stepped, looking like a fairy princess. The bridegroom of course, looked very nervous but smiling none-the-less. Lesley and Ann and I squeezed each others hands. Our friend Terry was going to snatch a little bit of happiness and we were overjoyed.

Of course, all any of us have is today, right now, to live the life we have imagined for ourselves. I think I knew that when I decided that the work I was doing for Hewlett Packard wasn't the right work for me. When I began the search for a new job, I made sure to put out an intention for work that I loved, with people I loved, in a place I loved. Even though moving to New York seemed like a pretty radical thing to do, I knew it was the right thing. All any of us have is today, right now.

My thanks, and blessings, and love go to Terry and Lesley. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of courage and grace. Blessings on you and your families. Love to you from the bottom of my heart.