Dear Mom,

Everyday I think about your strength. How you laughed and joked while we all cried.

Everyday I remember that we lived through it, twice.

Everyday I wonder if it might come back.

Everyday I hope you're OK.

Everyday.

The first time we went through The Scare, it was nerve wracking. Waiting for the phone to ring after the biopsy and then surgery. The moments waiting for the doctors to decide if things had spread. Thinking hundreds of times about what I would do without you and how is it possible we can put a man on the moon and not find one small evil thing that infects our world. How does something so small defeat so many. How do we quibble about the cost of gasoline when there isn't enough money for research? These went through my mind constantly and still do to this day. The sheer relief of hearing that things worked out, was like being able to breathe after being underwater and thrashing to get back up.

The second time The Scare came, it changed our lives forever. The result was the same, remission, but I will never be able to breathe again. It's always there, in the background. It's always waiting to take you from me. I can go through a whole week and forget, and suddenly see something pink and am reminded again. I'll never breathe again quite like I did before that day.

When it enters your life, breast cancer has a way of taking over. It's like falling under the ice and banging against an impenetrable force. The worst part is, and I'm sorry for saying this, being around others that are suffering as well. Because of my mother's bout with cancer, I got involved with some families and people that also were in the same boat. I had to stop going there, had to stop reading about all their deaths. I cried daily and railed against God and the world. Everyone was the enemy. Whenever I bought anything, I felt guilt for not giving the money for research.

I'm not alone in these feelings. I know because I've read my thoughts echoed on forums, comments and websites and in meetings for survivors. It simply amazes me that most women that have breast cancer are usually the strong ones. It's us, the family, who are angry and feel the most violated. I am angry too, though less so 4 years after her survival. I try to channel that angry and frustration into things like this post.

I'm turning my anger into action.

October is breast cancer awareness month. Buy a pink wig, wear the pink ribbons, join in the walk for the cure, send in donations, get a mammogram, learn how to do self examinations on your breasts.

Take charge!

Take action!

I've been too scared to have a mammogram since all of this. I'm going in to have one next month. Wish me luck and hope. It doesn't matter what my results are, what matters is I'm taking action, I'm taking charge.