Fight Like A Girl

Our beautiful cowgirl!

I don’t know how the phrase ‘You fight like a girl,’ became a classic insult. But after fighting breast cancer it has taken on a whole new meaning. Cancer treatment is like hazing for a sorority no one wants to join. I sometimes refer to others who have had a breast cancer diagnosis as my ‘sisters in the fight.’ But I recognize that I have sisters all around me who are engaged in the fight against this disease, including those who haven’t had that personal diagnosis. There are those that walk, raise money, get the word out, and encourage their friends to consistently do self-exams. And there are those who gather around the weak and wounded, and lift them up.

It was in the month of October – breast cancer awareness month – that I had to go in for a consultation with a radiation oncologist. I had already had a bilateral mastectomy with lymph nodes removed, and I’d gone through six rounds of chemo. I was unprepared for the news that I would have to have radiation. It was like reaching the top of a mountain after a long, hard hike, only to lift my head and realize I wasn’t actually at the summit – I still had miles to go. My appointment was on a Tuesday, a day I normally went to a local moms group I was involved in. My appointment was scheduled for early afternoon, so that morning, I went to my group having told no one about the appointment or how I was feeling. I was so discouraged – I felt heavy, and weary, like I was trying to walk through life with forty-pound weights on my feet.

But something amazing happened that morning. I walked into a room that had gone pink. In solidarity with me, and in support of breast cancer awareness month, everything was decorated in pink. Several of the girls were wearing pink bandanas. One was handed to me as I came in and I tied it around my bald head. A dear friend had done a photo shoot with me a few weeks earlier, celebrating my life, even celebrating my scars which stand as mementos of my survival. She had made a collage of the pictures, and the women had filled it with their signatures and words of encouragement. About fifty women stood around me as I was handed that gift. And later, in a small examining room in the hospital, as the doctor explained how vicious my cancer was, it wasn’t just my husband and me facing the road ahead. I sensed that group of women, standing behind me, cheering me on. This, for me, epitomizes what it means to ‘fight like a girl.’ Throughout my fight, I was surrounded by women who supported, encouraged, connected, babysat, cooked, cleaned, held my hand, cried with me, took me to the hospital for treatment, spent the night at my house, made CD’s of beautiful music, loaned me movies, gave me books, etc, etc.  They chose to become my sisters in the fight. They helped me survive.

So go ahead, tell me I fight like a girl. I couldn’t think of a nicer compliment.

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