Cancer Journey Chapter 1

 I knew it. I knew something was wrong. I told my friends and I told my mom. I told my primary care doctor office and they laughed it off. You're 28... you don't need a mammogram.

A sigh in despair, and it occurred to me! Planned Parenthood will see me! 

Now at this point it is the end of the pandemic "quarantine" shut down era. Yet, doctors offices were not willing to see you in person unless it was 'severe'. I guess a lump the size of a golf ball that was stabbing my breast was not enough.

I will tell you this and excuse me in advance... for this will NOT be the last time I say this, I KNOW MY BREASTS. I've loved them always! The religious household I grew up in always tried to shame me for my body and love for it. See I was 8 years old when i started growing the girls. I will never forget the day my dad took me to target to get my first bra. Ofcourse, being an only child and a girl at that... my dad had no idea what he was doing. Yet, he was chill.

I remember him going to the sales lady in that section and whispering. 

"What kind of bra would you recommend my 8 year old daughter to wear? I don't want her feeling self conscience or uncomfortable, I just want to protect her."

I remember asking myself, what does me wearing a bra have to do with protection? Now this I promise I will tie together later.

The sales lady looked at my dad and then at me hiding behind a rack with big coats; wearing my favorite overalls and my brand new harry potter style glasses (yes I was bullied) and she looked at me kindly and laughed a bit at my dad. 

"It's scary, I know. My daughter is the same age. I know exactly what she needs."

So then this lady walks over and shows me all the colors available in what truly was a comfortable bra. I wore these kind of comfort sports bra until 6th grade and by that point I was a C cup and needed real bras. By the time i got to high school i was a double D, and proud. It felt like my two girls and i were on adventure together. I knew everything about my breasts, they were such an integral part of me. So yes, when I felt something was wrong... I KNEW something was wrong.

Anyway, moving forward. Planned Parenthood was my saving grace and got me the referral. I chose Sibley as they were under John Hopkins (which needs no introduction I hope), and went for a mammogram among other tests. Their silences spoke loudly. Their kind face of concern telling me yet another test is needed created knots in my stomach. I chuckle a little now. About terms and body parts I never knew anyuthing about. I remember texting words like 'biopsy' and "lymph nodes",to my girls and their texts getting slightly less hopeful. I will never forget... them telling me things don't look good but it looks like cancer and that they would confirm within 2 days. 

Ever had an out of body experience and still have to function like a normal person. I walked sideways to my car. got in. AND YELLED.

FUCKKKKKK.... ARGHHHHHHHH... FUCK THIS SHIIITTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

I sat there and cried. Ugly crying and yelling. 

I then saw an older woman possibly in her 40's, walking out of the building. Bald. She had taken off the scarf off her head because the sun was beaming hard that day and I saw her laugh. I cried harder. 

I knew I needed to get out of the hospital area, but the stream of tears in my eyes wouldnt let me see. I kid you not. Already being a blind girl I was low key a menace to society at that point. I drove while having a meltdown with enough tears to drown out my vision forever. What did it matter? I knew it in my gut... i have cancer. I HAVE FUCKING CANCER.

Scary lovin'

Loving you scares me, there is a realization that I need someone like you but it confuses the shit out of me

You push me to be my best self, you provoke me to think and tolerate bigger, I can see the growth in me when im with you.

i hate saying it, but i love that you guide me, that you challenge me to be better, and in the kindest way ever

It is scary to me because I feel myself trusting you so much, believing in you so much, I am giving you the reigns. Please dont let me down...

However, at what point do I still make sure I am me?

I can acknowledge, I need the guidance, motivation and inspiration; but I dont want to lose me?

Wheres my balance? Because right now I am so happy to follow your need, because truly, AND I HATE TO SAY IT, i need it. 

Hard to say i dont want to lose me when im not sure who me is right now

Chapter 1: Introducing Hope part 1

 Hope was sitting on her yellow fluffy rug, sitting criss-crossed on the ground, hands on her thighs, eyes closed, breathing deeply and profoundly. Centering her breath- she then opened her eyes. Last night she dreamt of her mom. She dreamt of the time they took a sewing class and how much she loved that time together creating beautiful things. Her heart felt heavy and she felt a deep sadness. She missed her mother so much 

During the early days of losing her mother-- her dad had put her in therapy. She did not particularly like her therapist. She was a white woman whom she found boring, privileged, and just found nothing in common with her. No lengths of academia would give insight to what it is like to be a brown girl who comes from a strict Latino family whose most exciting family member (her mother) died in the same car she was in. 

Worst day of her life: the day her mom died; they were on their way back from getting mochi ice cream at the grocery store. They had originally gone out for groceries but left behind the ice cream they were going to eat while watching Harry Potter: Goblet of fire. It seemed like a close enough way to do their own version of celebrating St. Patrick's day (The Quidditch match was between the Irish and the Bulgarians). That along with some green tea ice cream and green nail polish they had planned for their manicures- the night was going to be so fun. Her mother had noticed her in the rearview mirror that she looked bummed, so she made a U-turn and they went back for the ice cream. By the time they were finally heading back home it was 8pm and the city seemed to become more alive. 

10 minutes away- we were just 10 minutes from home before a drunk driver college student t-boned my mothers car. My mother;s head whipped to the side so fast and my head knocked on the glass window so hard. Everything went black. I woke up in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. My eyes went black again. 

I woke up finally in the hospital. She remembers reaching out for her mom with her fingers, croaking softly, "mom?, MOM?". She then felt her dad touch on her foot. 

"Hope..." he said "Hope we can talk about mom later."

"What do you mean? I want her NOW", she spoke louder this time.

"Hope... your mom did not make it," her dad cried he could not keep the tears or evidence of sore throat a secret anymore. Hope looked at him and saw him for the first time. His face was red, his eyes were puffy and sad, his cheeks were wet from the tears. 

"I dont't understand" Hope said.

"She didn't suffer baby, she didn't-- she didnt..."

Hope shut her ears off, she shut her eyes- her heart felt tight she couldn't breathe. That was the first time Hope hyperventilated and had a panic attack. The machines in the room started beeping faster and she fainted.

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Hope had these flashbacks all the time. They were her constant reminder of what was. Why did this happen? How? Why did her mom deserve this? These questions were her companion like Mr. Bugs, her chihuahua and pug mix sidekick of a dog, and unlike him they weighed her down everytime she opened her eyes in the morning.

Meditation helped Hope tune out the world and tune into her spirit. She figured if she kept in touch with her spirit or her soul, she could make it through anything. That is the only real lesson Hope got from her gringa therapist, and thus was still somewhat thankful she had met her. 

Hope then laid back and went on her phone to see if Arturo had texted her back. Arturo and Hope had been casually making out for about a year now and she really liked him. He was nice, kind, and respectful. Hope knew Arturo had much stronger feelings for her than she did for him, but if she could not be with the one she wanted, then want the one you are with, right?

Indeed, Arturo had texted her back saying he did not want her to have a sad last day of Spring Break of their senior year, and that they should go to a movie. Hope sighed, Yeah, another movie this week, yay. 

OK, Hope responded via text

Hope drove her dads white pick up truck to the movie theatre and decided she'd wait inside the arcade area. And that's when Hope saw her-- playing the basketball hoops arcade games, tossing one basketball into the hoop after another. She is really good, Hope thought to herself. As she leaned on the candy dispenser machine, Hope touched some jelly substance on the side of machine and yelled, 

"EEEEEW!!!!"

Gaby turned around looking for where the wild noise came from and made eye contact with Hope.

Hope put her hands over her mouth and went red with embarrassment. She turned around and bolted to the nearest bathroom. She was cleaning her arm from the jelly substance in the bathroom when Gaby walked in. She jumped on the sink and sat there legs swinging laughing,

"You can't just touch whatever in an arcade! Dont cha' know that? The smaller kids are AWFUL," Gaby said slightly chuckling and swinging her legs. Hope laughed, as she kept washing her arm,

"'Yeah, I think I just learned that lesson the hard way"

"What was so distracting you couldn't see that the candy dispenser was oozing?"

Hope went red,  "ummm... was just surprised arcades like this exist anymore especially in a movie theatre"

"Right, right," Gaby laughed. She jumped off the counter standing just an inch away from Hope she said, "well did you see anything in there you liked?"

Hope lost her voice and made a sound something like "erryyaaahuhh"

Gaby laughed and turned around leaving the bathroom.

Hope has kmown Gaby for about a year. She and Arturo were cousins and she went to an all girls school that was number one in their basketball league. Hope had spoken to her a handful of times and every time she did, Hopes chest went tight and her breath was hard to catch. Gaby was Black and Latina, and often had her thick hair straightened and into a high ponytail. She often wore athletic clothing, but they managed to hug her body nicely. She was tall, muscular strong arms and beautiful dark brown skin. Her full lips were often in a big smile from either happiness or cockiness- Hope couldn't tell. She had only been able to see into her eyes fully once, with her hazelnut cream eye color always felt too deep to stare into, too long. 

Tale of the two pictures

 We could not even have one night of dinner and fun

somehow.. at the end of the night I end up being the bitch.

YOU ARE A BITCH.

How do I get accused at every turn of being filth you say you don't trust

when all I do is sit here thinking of ways I want to be feel loved

to feel warmth when someone sees me

YOU ARE A BITCH

I am reminded at every turn of this "love story:" gone wrong

A picture said to have been sent... did you ever even consider someone had taken their own?

No you didn't... because in your story I am always the bitch

YOU ARE A BITCH.

Never let me forget it.. when times are uncertain you remind me of something...

I AM A BITCH

YOU THINK ME YOUR ENEMY

YOU THINK THE WORST OF ME

BECAUSE YOU THINK I AM A BITCH.

All I wanted was a night of fun and dinner

But we cannot even do that anymore...

Just wanted a simple night of fun but you remind me

I AM A BITCH.

Crying myself to sleeep.. tears rolling down my face... sleeping by myself

wondering why I am always being called a bitch.

A little wiser

 Hot and Cold

You say my energy is crazy but its just feeding off yours...

You think you can do whatever but at the end it will be you who loses

I have learned I will be ok and i will come out of all of this hurt and pain you cause me, brighter and stronger. Dealing with you makes my skin tougher and my heart wiser, 

Critical Assessment

 It's so funny to me how people expect you to treat them with a certain kindness when they have played an instrumental role in breaking it down for you.

It is so interesting how people are so ready to criticize you but cannot seem to find their own faults. 

What would you call a person like this? Vain? Idiotic, Purposefully toxic, or perhaps accidental. 

It's so frustrating to myself how I can feel so trapped and suffocated by someone that I can't get away from. Is it because I am not strong? Is it because they have made me so insecure im crippled now?

Cuz this cannot be love, it just isnt.

Whats the opposite of shouting love off the rooftops?

 I remember when I used to feel so in love I could not wait to share about it and talk about it and be so in that bubble of love that nothing else existed.

I do not think I have felt that way in years. 

Maybe a part of me deserves to be stuck in an unhappy dramatic wild ass partnership with someone.

I thought I deserved better but I feel like all the good honest and righteous men are nowhere around and I am stuck between being alone or being with someone who isn't all bad but also makes me feel so alone.

Even as I write that out I know it is bullshit and I need to strive for better.

Or at least be OK to be alone. Surely, being alone must be better than how I feel right now.