In my small circle, I've only personally known 3 women who've died from breast cancer - all young mothers, leaving 2-3 kids behind. I'm learning that it's a tragedy repeated every day, around the world. Why is it coming younger and younger?! The devastation it leaves in its wake never ceases to bring with it heart-crushing emotion. The monster.
I met the sweetest new friend the other day. We set up a playdate at the park with my daughter's new best friend at school and halfway through our afternoon, she apologized for the wig and disclosed that she was undergoing treatment for breast cancer. She'd already had surgery and chemo and was just finishing radiation. She'd lost her eyebrows the day before and was feeling out of sorts with each new turn. To me, she was a full on war hero. She was so open and beautiful and genuine. I love her already. I am so angry at the whole situation. The repeated scenario - the fear, the hope, the pain, the questions, the children, the struggle, the ever-present threat that you'll never be free of again. It's so awful and ugly. I detest it so.
It seems every day I'm finding one more thing to pray for. Find a cure. Find a cure.
