My name is not breast cancer
That is not the name my mother chose for me when she laid eyes on me
She smiled at me, and kissed my forehead
And called me precious
And called me beautiful
The words “breast” and “cancer”
Never left her lips
So why is that what they say to me now?
Why do they call me “breast cancer”
Like that is my name
I look in the mirror and I see what cancer has done to me
Where my flowing locks of dark brown hair used to live
Is a barren desert
And round dome, a little lumpy in the back
Brown and sunkissed and oddly beautiful
the golden brown skin of my face is the same
my eyes a little more sunken, but still dark brown
they still lighten when the sun transfers its kiss from my head to my eyes
my lips are still full, still soft to the touch
my neck still strong, but more lines there
more defined lines
and when I look at the place where my breasts used to be
I see the lightening marks where they cut me
To remove the foreigner that was a tumor
To remove the very thing they have bestowed upon me as my name
Breast Cancer
I trace those lines and I feel strong
Stronger than I did months ago
When I clung to my toilet for dear life
As my belly forcefully surrendered everything that lay within me
Where I retched, and retched, until there was blood in the toilet
Mixed with the bile
Until my belly just heaved
Trying to vomit the cancer out with each retch
Trying to offer something else to the toilet, because I had nothing left to give
I feel stronger now, tracing my lines
Than I felt months ago when I watched my hair leave my head
When I was first introduced to this pale round thing
That covered my brain
That was alien, and huge and reminded me constantly of the battle
That was taking place within me
Reminding me that the battle against my breasts
Demanded the death of my hair
Because it could not have me
And tracing the lightening, I feel stronger now
Stronger than I did as I watched the curves I loved so much
Shrink to nothingness
As I watched the mainframe of my body peep through
Ribs that I’d forgotten I’d had peep through under
What was left of my breast
My hip bones screaming and grinding
My toes blue with cold
I couldn’t get warm no matter what I did
And I longed to shut my weakened brown eyes
And surrender to my new name
And now, as I trace my lightening bolts,
I feel stronger
I defeated the foreigners and sent away from my lands
I lost some things along the way
Lost some friends and some family, some hair and some fat
But I survived
I am still here to trace my lines,
To remember the battle
To remember the day I sat in that chair
And the woman in the white coat
Hugged me and gave me a new name
Remission
My name is not breast cancer
My name is Strength
My name is Fight
My name is Awesome
My name is Powerful
I faced Death and told him
NOT YET
My name is NOT breast cancer
No matter how many times you whisper it when I walk into the room
No matter how many papers you write it on
No matter how much you want pin it on me
I am the woman who defeated breast cancer
Now call me my name
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