For the past few days I’ve been battling intense sadness.

Friday night I participated in Remi’s Relay for Life cancer fundraiser at her school. She was a team captain and needed to have a survivor in tow. I didn’t really want to do it, but I needed to support her. As much as I love having all the attention on me under normal circumstances, having all eyes on me because I survived cancer makes me extremely uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just too soon? I’m not even a year cancer free. Maybe my cancer wasn’t bad enough to garner people cheering me as I walked the halls.

I went to the survivor dinner. Sat with a small handful of other survivors and their families and then we were off to the opening ceremonies. We heard from a 13 year old boy who went through hell and back first with osteosarcoma, then lung cancer. An older woman who had stage 3 breast, chemo, radiation and now suffers from lymphedema. I did not speak.

Then there was the survivor lap. A long walk through the halls of the school, lined with students, teachers, and chaperoning parents. Donning the purple shirt reserved for survivors with those letters bold on my back, SURVIVOR, I walked for what felt like an eternity with all the aforementioned people smiling, clapping and cheering. I wanted to disappear. If I didn’t look at them, maybe they didn’t see me. I clung to Remi’s hand (I had her walk with me) and focused on her, and talked to her the whole time. Desperately trying to avoid eye contact with any of the cheering crowd.

When it was finally over I grabbed my bag of popcorn (they had a movie popcorn machine, how could I resist?) and said my goodbyes. Most of the kids were staying overnight. I had to get out. I sat in my car for a while, eating my popcorn, trying to relax. Trying to figure out why this was so hard for me. I got home and the house was dark and empty. I stood in the kitchen and cried. I poured a very large glass of wine, twice, munched on tortilla chips and watched tv until I was tipsy enough to go to bed.

I didn’t wake up feeling much better. I was tired because lately I can’t sleep through the night. This sadness was still inside me. It didn’t take too long to realize the date. I’m just days from the year anniversary of my diagnosis. March 29th. Tony asked me how I could possibly remember that. How could I not? It was a Thursday night. I was in my studio getting ready to teach 2 acting classes back to back starting at 5pm. At 4:45 my phone rang. It was my oncologist’s PA calling to confirm that not just one, but both of my tumors were indeed cancerous. The doctor would call me tonight. I was all alone and moments later my students came in. Staying focused was a little difficult that night.

At 7:45 my surgical oncologist called me while I was driving home. My team was in place, she said. I had a team. Surgical oncologist, medical oncologist and plastic surgeon. Yes I had cancer in both breasts but it was small and treatable. I was going to Ireland in 3 days with my family and friends. Now what? “Go,” she said. “Have a wonderful time and when you get back we will figure it all out.” Being the pragmatic person that I am, I had to ask, “Am I going to make it through this?” “You are not going to die,” she said.

I clung to those words. I have young kids. I’m still kinda young. There were surgical options, lumpectomies, radiation, double mastectomy. For me there was only one option. There was no way I was going to run the risk of getting this again, so mastectomy it was to be. I was literally choosing to cut my breasts off. Let that sink in for a moment.
 

While in many ways I feel like I came out of this better than when I went in, it was traumatic. I joked and laughed my way through 8 months of hell, partially for my sanity, partially for everyone else’s. How could I make this easier for everyone else? Keep it funny. It’s what I do.

Thanks to an absolutely brilliant plastic surgeon, I look pretty good.....in the dark. I’m completely scarred front and back, up and down. Sliced up like a chicken and pieced back together like a puzzle is how I put it. I have purple dots all over me, scars from 8 drains and hole marks from biopsies. My body feels different, muscles have been cut and relocated. They pull at odd times and that’s my new normal. There are silicone bags where my breast tissue used to be. But I feel sexier than I have in years. I wear only skimpy, lacy bralettes because I can. I filled my drawer with them, every style and color I could find on the clearance rack at Lord and Taylor. Thanks to lipo and fat grafting (3rd surgery )I have my pre-baby flat stomach back. I’m still working off the last 10 lbs of weight gained during my illness. Did I mention I gained 20 lbs in 4 months!?

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My life is pretty amazing at this point. I feel great most of the time. I look better than I have in years. I have a new appreciation for life and I’m energized to get my career back on track. I lost that drive for many years and now I’m excited to have it back. I’m making a movie I co-wrote, I’m working on another one, I signed with a new agency that’s keeping me busy with more auditions than I can count, I feel loved, my kids are happy and healthy and I have an amazing family and group of friends. And yet, I’m so sad today. It’s a beautiful Sunday and I’m still in my pj’s unable to get moving. I have a script to memorize for a pilot audition, I have a vo audition to record, I have to go food shopping, clean, get ready for the upcoming week, so much to do. I think I just need to get past this anniversary on Friday.

Cancer sucks. It still feels weird saying I had cancer. I’m scared I’ll get it again, but I try not to think about that. I want to close this chapter of my life soon. I still have 1 more procedure in a few months, tattooing. All things considered, I was really lucky. So many have had it so much worse than I. They should be celebrated. Me? Only clap for me after you see me perform. Don’t celebrate me because I survived cancer. I just did what I was told. My amazing team did all the heavy lifting.