An Invisible Pink Bruise

The first time we were only 21. The second time we were 29. You would think it would have been easier the second time being older but it hit harder. 

It's like when you get hit by a ball that has has been hurtled at you unexpectedly from somewhere just out of your vision. It leaves a bruise. 

Over time bruise may disappear but if you press hard enough, in just the right place, even though it seems to have healed - it is still tender.

That's how it felt the second time.

Except for us, instead of someone pressing with their fingers into that hidden, tender spot - it was like a black, gloved hand was twisting and turning and pressing down and at first making it hard to breathe. 

But then, after time, after just living our life,  we got used to that tender spot hurting again, shed our tears and lived it. 

We shut the voice down in our head both times that tried to signal that this may be the end, it was going to get worse, that this was in our future, that nothing was ever going to be the same. That voice that tried to silence our Hope and Faith.

The first time there were other most loved that were going through their own similar battles and we became the band-aid, the one who would look after the ones She could not. The ones She also loved. We didn't mind but looking back now we didn't think about what She was going through much at all. It wasn't that we didn't care. We cared too much. We just did what She couldn't do while She was in Hospital.

Except for that one day when the world did slow down enough for us to go with Her. To be with Her while she sat in that leather ezy-chair and ponder the irony and swallow back the unhelpful tears while trying to ignore the needle and drip in Her arm and pray that this "medicine" that was so toxic would do it's job. That there would be days with her to talk about this and thank Him for more days that were nothing like this. 

But almost 8 years later it happened again. We remember the day we got the phone call. We remember leaving work. We remember driving straight to Her house and sitting on Their bed and talking and praying and wondering how it could strike again. Same thing. Different side. Different type. Another Hospital operation. 

This time there were no distractions. This time we could focus on Her. We kept our Faith and Hope. We were sadly more prepared. I think this time we faced it as a Family. The four of us. 

And when the operation was done, the next day She and I sat on the Hospital balcony, we stood up to a scary Matron on Her behalf and ate fresh Egg & Bacon rolls for breakfast. 

The sun shone brightly on our faces that day. 

Her adjustments began again and life changed but Hope and Faith never wavered. 

No matter how hard it was. We were blessed.

xx The soles of my shoeless feet.

Mum & I in the mid 1970's

As you may be aware it is Pink Ribbon Day today to raise awareness for Breast Cancer. The Cancer Council tell us that " ....one in every nine Australian women will be diagnosed with breast cancer by the age of 85". 

One. In. Nine.

In 1995 my Mum was diagnosed with Breast cancer in her left breast. She had all her lymph nodes removed, a full mastectomy and chemotherapy. At around the same time my Grandfather, her Father was also battling his own illness, my Grandmother didn't, couldn't cope and my feet learned the feel of three different Hospitals in Sydney in those months. Just not often the one that my Mum was most familiar with.Mum got through her treatment, sadly we said goodbye to my Grandfather and life continued on.

But almost 8 years later during her one of her regular follow ups she was eventually diagnosed with cancer a second time. This time in her right breast. Totally unrelated. Tubular cancer "One of the better cancers to get".Yes this was a statement from her Specialist. Possibly true but what a statement! She chose a full mastectomy without a second thought and again all lymph nodes were removed. No chemotherapy or radiation was required. The removal of her breast was enough.

I have no idea what shoes I wore during that time but the soles of my feet remember every single moment of both those years even if my brain refuses to and my heart has buried most of the emotion. Two more Polaroid Moments fused into my sole forever. 

Nearly everyone I know has a story of how they have been touched by cancer in some way. Just look at those statistics. We know in our heads it's important to financially support the research and yet how many of us do? 

I'm buying my Pink Ribbon. I'm buying as many Pink endorsed products as I can - even though I know how little some of the profits of individual items are, it all adds up. I'll be going to a Pink Ribbon afternoon tea and I'll be keeping my Faith and Hope.

You see, even with those statistics on paper I know that my statistics are higher that it's possible that it's in my future now. My doctor keeps reminding me.

However I have a trust in the One who is above statistics but even if I do have to face what my Mum has fought twice now I will be fine. I already have that tender spot. And if ever have to wear "that scar" on my own body, I'll wear it as a badge of honour because I have the most wonderful example of strong, amazing, real, fragile, faithful, hopeful, courageous women to draw on. 

And there are those that I treasure as close friends who have walked similar walks that I have as daughters (and sons) that haven't had the same outcome, that faced a very different type of pain and their bruise bears a different mark. I almost have "Surviour Mum" guilt in a way and I know that they would want to bop me on the head right now reading that! - but I understand their tender spot as I know they understand mine.

So my tender spot? It will be like a invisible, pink bruise in the shape of a ribbon to remind me of what strength is. Just like those amazingly women who have already fought that battle. I think of those that have both won and lost and the ways in which your fight has impacted my life as a woman. I'm stronger for it.

And to all of you ( you know who you are! ) I....we....say "Thank you!"

Do you have a pink bruise or a tender spot ? Been strengthened by someone else's journey? I'd love to hear about it. Leave me a comment below.