Fight for Your Life...Every.Single.Day...

...Even if you aren't losing it.

"...Troubles they may come and go

But good times, they're the gold.

Just steady as we go..."

Dave Matthews Band

Part I

I don't think there is a person in the world who didn't once upon a time feel invincible. Myself included, I have walked through life doing the same old "it can't happen to me" dance as I play in traffic. Whether you've run away from home in the middle of the night, jumped off the monkey bars, ate cat food, or rode your "Tricycle of Doom" off a cliff in an attempt to fly- we've all felt invincible.

I've heard stories, from those I love, about the moment they felt that magical invincibility cape slip off. Still, like an idiot, I walked around feeling more aware of the dangers of life but not feeling any close brushes with the casualties of it all.

Everyday we wake up in SHOCK that our alarm is going off. Pissed off that it's Monday. Enraged that there's traffic. Upset that there's no coffee. Frustrated with our Blackberry's screaming off all the tasks we've got to do for that day. Wait... in SHOCK that our alarm is going off? Or in shock that we've made it another day? You mean you don't wake up happy? Happy that you've woken up?

Then one day I woke up. It was September- notably the worst month in my 26 years of existence. I wasn't in shock from my alarm clock going off. I wasn't pissed it was Monday. And my Blackberry was just a noise in the background of the sound of my heart pounding. I felt something. Something hard. Something I was trained to check for. Something that I knew didn't belong. Something that couldn't happen to me. For the rest of the day I pretended like this "something" was nothing. For those of you who don't personally know me- I WILL call 911 if there is a splinter under my skin- I have a PHOBIA of things sitting in me that don't belong. I got home from work and Googled my brains out. I woke up a million times that night talking myself out of this paranoia. Then I truly woke up. Made an appointment for this strange "bump" on my Tata behind a mole. After a rushed appointment- a date and time was set to remove this unwelcome part of me.

The first thing I did? Nothing. I didn't tell anyone. Not my parents, my sister, my brother or my best friend. I let them know I was getting a mole removed but that was the extent of it. Selfish? Maybe- but I had to do some serious thinking on my own before my thoughts were crowded with other peoples fears. The first thing I decided was that I'd be fine. No matter what happens- I'd be fine. The second thing I decided was that I wouldn't tell anyone of my lumps existence until it was out of my body. My third decision was that if my biopsy comes back malignant then a double mastectomy it is. Pardon my French but I don't fuck around. I'm a few weeks shy of 27 and not only single but haven't come CLOSE to finding "the one" so CLEARLY these babies haven't been carrying their own weight anyway! After some research I did find that it wasn't absolutely necessary or needed for me to excommunicate the girls. But still...

So after I played bridesmaid in my dear friend Melissa's wedding and strutted my tiger stuff around Savannah- I went under the knife. I remember when we were in the bridal suite, Melissa, kept fearing the nervous pee syndrome. I sat in the waiting room and went to the little girls room 5 times before they brought me into my room. As I sat in my skimpy little half cloth, half paper outfit on the cold table I thought- This is just fan-fucking-tastic. In here, literally freezing my boobs off, about to possibly dive straight into Hell. I will never forget the sound my pea sized lump made when it hit the pan. If my educational background wasn't so physics enriched I'd have thought you could hear that thud across the world. It was the sound of my invincibility cape falling to the ground. It was the sound of time stopping. Life halting. In the same breath it was the sound of freedom from this evil thing that had taken up space in my body- uninvited.

As the doctor singed "bleeders" and sewed me up, I realized I had new decisions to make now that this demon was gone from my body. She began to say that they'd have the biopsy results in 7 days and that no decisions would be made until then. I decided she was already wrong. I had 7 days of waiting. I could sit around coming apart at the seams or I could live my life as I normally would doing the things that make me happy. I chose to take a deep breath, put on a Snoopy Band aid, and be as normal and happy as possible. If the results came back cancer free, GREAT! I'll have just lived my life as I would any other day. If the results came back that the lump was indeed life altering- those were the last normal 7 days of my life. Ever. This was important to Me. So I asked the doctor to see what came out of Me. She chuckled and showed me. I asked her how many stitches she gave me. She smiled and said 13. I said that 13 is a good sign, it's my favorite number. I made my appointment to get my sutures removed. Friday, November 13th. I laughed and smiled. My 27th birthday.

After telling those I love of the news I got mixed reactions. Some angry that I didn't tell them, some shocked that I was able to participate in recent events, and some who freaked out for me. The first few days went fine. By the 11th day of my "7 days" of waiting- I was about to explode. I look in the mirror and want to cry. I look at the ugly developing scar and feel as though I can't breathe. Where is my biopsy?! Finally on Day 11, the day before my Birthday, I got the news. My evil pea sized lump was benign. And then I allowed myself to cry.

Part of me feels guilty for writing this blog. Guilty because I still sit here rattled by the whole event. I sit here looking at my tube of Mederma, dying to go ahead and use it. I sit here and tear up over the thought of this hideous scar on a part of my body that MAKES me a woman. That makes me a BEAUTIFUL woman. I sit here, guilty, for ever feeling invincible.

Part II

I've recently been playing email tag with a new pal and made mention of how important I think it is to fight for your life. I was asked who I aspire to be like- famous, fiction, TV, movie star etc. I racked my brain to think of who I would want to be like. After naming off a selection of people both in the public eye, and in my heart, I explained myself. I don't want to go a day without fighting for my life. I never just want to be the type of person that just sits there and watches my life go by. Just because we're not sitting here dying of a demon or disease doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing everything in our power to fight for our life and make it OURS. I have many sayings that get me through trying times. One is: Accept. Adapt. Overcome. This is a process that I use when trying to get through the harder things my heart is faced with. The other important one is My B's! Don't Bend, Break, or Back Down. I do not, will not, cannot participate in any action of those 3 words. I found myself repeating these 2 sayings throughout those 11 long days. I was ready to do whatever I needed to do to ensure a long and happy life. And I don't see why any other normal day should be different.

To those who read this and have had similar events occur in their life. Be it close calls or actual life crises- I applaud you. For reading through, for fighting, for being here, for smiling, and for everything else you do to fill your days. I've known a few people in my life who have had combinations of difficult childhoods, lost parents, or had something life altering happen to them at a young age. I've heard from many of them that the day they lost their invincibility cape was the day they realized they didn't know how to live their lives. That their perception and overall understanding on how life works was then warped and altered significantly. I realize my experience is minimal and nothing in comparison to the experiences of the strong men and women that I speak of. However, I do know that we've all fought. Whether it was with chemo, in counseling, through rehab, or like me in waiting. No one knows how to live their life. No one. You can travel the world, run off and get married, work your heart out, make millions, shut yourself in your room, or parachute out of a hundred fucking planes. No one knows how to live their life. We're not supposed to. We're just supposed to live it. Whatever that means to YOU is the important part. At the end of the day we just need to go to bed happy that we've lived another day knowing we've fought for our life. Fought by walking the beach at sunset. Fought by kissing the person we love goodnight. Fought by making sure we've laughed. Fought to open our eyes in the morning.

...Fight for Your life. Every.Single.Day.

To those I Love and those who Love Me:

"When the storm comes,

You shelter me.

When I don't say a word,

You know exactly what I mean.

In the darkest times,

You shine on me.

You set me free.

You keep me Steady as We Go..."

-DMB