Why I'm Lucky (Despite Getting Breast Cancer at 29)

A post from the archives: originally published on my blog in 2019

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of 'luck' and, specifically, how it does or doesn't pertain to my life since my diagnosis of breast cancer at age 29. I believe that one of the first questions a cancer patient asks when they receive their diagnosis is, "Why did this happen to me?" I know I asked myself this repeatedly for many months, and on occasion, I still ask it now. The monologue I found myself giving to anyone who'd listen was principally focused on how this shouldn't have happened to me. The lines I’d deliver all had a similar theme: I'm far too young and fit! I've always eaten healthily! My family barely even has a history of cancer!

I couldn't wrap my head around what had happened to me. My diagnosis felt horribly unlucky, and I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who would agree with me. The awful thing about unluckiness is that you cannot do much to regain control.

A very short time after my diagnosis, when I was in the initial onslaught of treatment and terror, I was told by somebody I don't know very well that I was incredibly lucky. They said this with complete sincerity, and although I'm sure they meant it with the best intentions, it greatly upset me. I was really hurt they could think that—let alone say it—and that they didn't see me as the utter wretch I felt.

If I'm being honest, I wanted people to feel sorry for me. I'm not sure there's anything wrong with that: who doesn't desire compassion when they suddenly find themselves attempting to navigate a very real and hideous Hell? I was faced with over a year of chemotherapy, multiple surgeries, the loss of my breasts and, in reality, the loss of my entire life as I knew it. Conversations with my husband suddenly shifted from saving for a house deposit and starting a family to how we'd afford to pay for treatments and preserve my future fertility. Obviously, cancer is never a fair thing to happen, but this all did feel so very unfair.

Photo by Patrycja Polechonska on Unsplash

I don't think I'll ever be someone who says their cancer was a blessing—although I'm happy for people who feel that way—but lately, I find I can't stop telling people how lucky I am. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel I'm lucky to have had cancer, but the more I carve my way through this journey, the more I'm forced to take stock of all the things I have to be thankful for. This was made all the more apparent to me when, less than a year into my treatment, I lost one of my dearest childhood friends to breast cancer.

There are no words I could write that would do justice to Emily’s brilliance, but here are some anyway. Emily was fiercely smart and strikingly beautiful; she was never-endingly caring and loyal, and she had a laugh that put one in mind of a hyena. She leaves behind her husband and two beautiful children, who were her whole world.

Those of us who loved Emily are grappling with her being gone. The cruelness of it all smacks me in the gut and sometimes makes it hard to breathe. In these moments, I find myself clinging to the strength of my late friend. I feel I have to do her justice in the way I face my own diagnosis. I have to honour the woman she was. The friend who let me live with her for a year in her tiny room in student halls because I didn't know what I was doing with my life; the person I could always count on to tell me when to man up (and still do so with love), the mother who when faced with the devastating news of her illness thought only of her family and how she could support them.

So you see, I am lucky. When I tell people I feel lucky, I mean it.

I’m lucky I've had the best treatment money can buy because my friends and family were so kind to support me through a GoFundMe page.

I'm lucky I was able to make it through my chemotherapy and immunotherapy infusions without any delays or complications.

I'm lucky my husband works from home, so he was able to take care of me 24/7 during the worst stages of my treatment.

I'm lucky to have known someone as beautiful and loving as my friend Emily.

Most of all, I'm lucky to be sitting here typing these words because I know in my heart that nothing is promised in this life, no matter how hard or how often we wish for it.

Photo by Dustin Humes on Unsplash