Numb completely describes how I felt on that drive home from the consultation.  Michael’s response was to “flip into action”.  He wanted answers, solutions, a plan for fixing this.  I wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

But what we had to do was figure out how we would tell our 19, 15 and 13 year old children. During one of the millions of appointments over the last nine months, one nurse asked me how old my kids were.  When I answered she said, “Oh, they are pretty much on their own, this wasn’t such a big deal for them.”  You know I couldn’t pass up this teachable moment!  I let her know that they understood enough to be fearful from day one, had friends who had lost their moms to breast cancer and were looking up recurrence and survival statistics.  At this age, not only did we have to give accurate information, we had to guide the processing of that information.

In telling our kids, we followed the guiding principle that we had always stuck to in sharing tricky information with them.  We told the truth and answered their questions, but didn’t do the data dump.  We told them that I would need some surgery to remove some cells that were cancerous and that we weren’t sure about treatment following that—which was the truth.  We said that I was very healthy and that would help in my recovery.  We let them know that this wasn’t a secret, they could talk to their friends about it—we didn’t want them to feel isolated by this difficulty.  We let them know that there was no question that was off limits.

Figuring out how to tell friends and family was not easy either.  A very short list of family and friends, written on the back of a junk mail envelope, got phone calls—not easy at all.   After those 12 phone calls, I came upon caringbridge.org.  I sent out emails to everyone else, sharing the link to Caringbridge and telling them that this is how we would keep everyone updated and not lose our sanity.  (We have lived in many places in our 25 year marriage.)  I was certain that it was going to be exhausting setting up and attending all of these appointments, checking out insurance details, getting things in order at work so I could be out, making treatment decisions, and emotionally navigating these dark waters as a woman, a wife, a mother, a co-worker and a friend.  I did not want to be telling and retelling the details over the phone or in individual emails while what our family needed was to spend that time together—when we had it.  I wanted my husband and kids to feel like they were priority one when it came to communicating during this time.

I let everyone know how they could stay posted, they tapped into Caringbridge or they didn’t, and I did not allow guilt to enter the picture once when it came to returning calls or emails personally.  I heard and read the messages, but had no capacity to respond.  If it wasn’t okay with someone that I didn't return their call—I didn’t know about it!  I did learn that there are folks who want the cancer patient to make them feel better about them having cancer—I didn’t buy into that.  I wasn’t in any place to make someone else feel okay about my cancer!  I thought  it sucked.

A very close friend, who loves me enough to tell me the truth, even when it isn’t pleasant, told me I had to let people help me through this.  She gently talked to me about being vulnerable, while she sat by me and let me experience the real flood of fear, disbelief and dread.  She told me to think about how she could facilitate people bringing meals—a gigantic help in many respects.  This cancer deal was fulltime work on top of a full life.  And life marches on.  SO, using caringbridge.org, I listed her as the meal coordinator and I gave her preferences (I have two teenagers still at home!) which she shared with friends interested in helping us in that practical way.  I don’t like to ask for help.  I am like a perpetual two-year-old—I want to do it myself!!!

Don’t try to do it on your own . . . .