I have Breast Cancer. Am I a Warrior?

I have Breast Cancer. Am I a Warrior?

I originally posted this on my old blog. I wrote this in 2016 when I was going through breast cancer treatment. That blog has since died in cyberspace.

Warrior – A brave or experienced soldier or fighter

A friend of mine told me because I am fighting breast cancer I am a warrior.  I don’t feel like a warrior.  I feel more like a 5-year-old having a tantrum on the floor crying and inconsolable every time I think about my next appointment for chemotherapy. On most days I want to stay in bed with my head covered.  I’m not brave or experienced. I will take that I’m a fighter, but aren’t we all fighting something. Every day we are struggling to survive. Fighting to get through a workday without cussing someone out, fighting to raise our kids, fighting for our relationships, or goals.

I hate every time someone tells me “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” I get it, must we keep testing the theory. If I say I can’t handle it anymore or that I’m struggling, does that mean I don’t trust God?

I just finished my 4th treatment out of 8. I’m at the halfway point of chemo but only a 1/4 through the battle. I go into each appointment with this dread that I can’t do this.  I can’t take the smell, the taste of the medicine and the feeling as it goes through my body. When you think of going through chemotherapy, you think about losing your hair. That was the easiest part. I did cut it before it fell out on its own but the fatigue, nausea, and changes in my skin I could do without. I also wasn’t prepared for the mental fogginess.

It’s been 2 1/2 months since I found out I have breast cancer and the words still feel foreign to me. I thought the more people I tell that it will make it feel real. Then I wrote about it, and it still feels unreal. The words still creep into my self-conscious as a whisper “you have breast cancer.”

Am I really being brave when you have no choice? I wasn’t given an option to fight or not. I have three teenage girls who depend on me and a Pomeranian named Jack that needs to be fed and cuddled. If I didn’t fight, who would take care of them? Most of all I’m fighting for me. I’m fighting for that little girl who still has dreams of her own.

So ok I’m a warrior, but the fight isn’t just cancer. The fight is to live a full and purposeful life, and I’m not alone.

To pin it.



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