Par Marylou DiPietro
July 13, 2018 – Friday the 13th
One day after hearing that I have a “very suspicious mass” on my breast.
Suddenly everything is different: the vastness of the sky, the depth of the water, the songs of birds ricocheting across the valley.
Now there’s a temporariness to everything, a shallowness, a thinness that’s impossible to describe.
My blue pencil case reminds me of the first article of clothing that was not a hand-me-down: a royal blue shirt with a white scalloped neckline. I only had the shirt a week when it must have fallen out of my bag when I was walking home from a sleep-over at my brand-new best friend’s house. I remember praying to Saint Anthony as I retraced my footsteps along the maze-like streets between our houses. I remember thinking how mad my mother would be when she heard I lost the shirt I begged her to buy me. I can still feel the deep sadness that the thing I loved so much was gone so fast. A thing – like my mother’s unexpected kindness – I hoped would last forever.
The idea of temporariness settles into my bones like an anchor. Do we really think we’re going to live forever? Could we be that stupid and naive? Do we trick ourselves into believing we’re immortal?
There’s an urgency now…a deep dive to recover the truth: who I am, what powers do I have? What limits I have denied?
I’ll draw now… for drawing has given me great solace. I ignored that part of myself for so long.
July 14, 2018
Turn toward the water. Find peace and clarity. Call Sally. Do not wait for answers. Do not let anger impinge on your ability to move ahead. Let the bad memories drift out to sea. Have faith that your children know how much you love them. Remember that the true love of the man you married is what saved your life.
July 15, 2018
Suddenly everything is black and white. The door is open, the door is closed. There’s no doubt who to trust and who to love. No doubt what I want, what I cannot bear. Everything is in its proper place. There’s no illusion of control or rewards or punishments. Someone else – a doctor – will speak the truth about my life. The words that come out of her mouth will be all that matters.
July 16, 2018
My body is holding me captive. I cannot escape the wrath my body has bestowed upon me. I cannot banish the cancer growing inside me. The cancer is just as much a part of me as my hands, my feet, all my internal organs.
July 17, 2018
It’s better if others don’t know, I think. I need to share the news with those who love me and who I love.
July 18, 2018
Suddenly the clarity is astounding. The unnecessary accouterments fall away like an outer skin I did not know I had.
I thought I knew where I stood with my own body, but I was wrong.
So, the battle begins – between the person I thought I was and the person I have been tricked, unwittingly, into becoming.
There is never a warning – even when we think there is, there is not. Much like the shock of giving birth. We think we know what is going to happen … we read about it in books, see it in movies, are told bits and pieces by other women who have been through it before us. Still, nothing, not one ounce of information can prepare us for what is about to happen.
July 19, 2018
We tell ourselves we must go forward … we must keep breathing, even though it feels like someone else, someone you never met, is taking each breath.
My sister says she’ll put me on the prayer list. I wonder what that means. I want to say yes, please put me on the prayer list, but all I say is thanks.
July 20, 2018
I write down the word “invasion” instead of “invasive”
I have been invaded. I am in a fog. I wonder how strong I really am.
I paint the sea and sky and hills like perfectly formed breasts, and for now, at least, I am satisfied.
Connect with Marylou: www.maryloudipietro.com
Plus d'informations :
Sur le podcast : Conversations sur le cancer du sein
The Power of Storytelling in Breast Cancer
Partagez votre histoire, votre poésie ou votre art :
Survivre au cancer du sein.org Ressources et soutien :
