Pink Story: Secret

In case I forgot to tell you, I was sick.  It started the day after the biopsy and, until the day I got the news, I thought I was getting better.  October 2nd came and with it a 13 hour day.  Seven of those hours would be spent teaching.  Four of the hours would be spent talking to parents.  Within the first hour of parent conversations I was losing my voice.  Historically, when I start losing my voice it is a sign of improvement.  Its like the last straw.  I didn’t think anything of it.  I conferenced with the parents of 28 students.  I told them the good and bad of their child's academics.  I smiled, I gave advice.  I never let them know that I just found out I had cancer.  I didn’t give them a hint, I didn’t even act like anything was wrong.  You may think this is amazing.  You may think that you would have been screaming it from the rooftops.  I’m not so sure.  It is not that simple to give people that news.  It feels really personal and it feels like you might become one of those downer people.  An old friend sees you and smiles.  They say, “Hi, how are you?” with their great to see you face.  For a moment you want to say,  “I’m good, I have breast cancer.”  Then you hear what that will sound like.  In your mind you see their face fall into a frown, you see that in your honesty you have put a huge damper on their day and essentially placed duct tape over their mouth.  They will probably ignore you the rest of the day, feel sorry for you and make you feel more alone than if you had kept your secret.  So, you keep your secret, at least that is what I did. I rarely told people with whom I didn’t already have an amazing daily relationship with what was going on.  It was the first time in my life I wished the gossip tree was working better.  People weren’t talking about me and they were forcing me to talk about myself.  I failed them.  I kept my secret.  I kept teaching as if nothing was wrong.  I would smile and greet people as if it was still the beginning of September before all of this began. I finished two 13 hour days of teaching and conferences while holding my breath, straining my voice, and keeping my secret.  Thursday night came.  The last conference went home and so did I.  

Thankfully, my mom drove in on Thursday night.  We were both tired from our long days: my conferences, her drive.  We went to bed at decent hours looking forward to our weekend together. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Here was someone from whom I didn't have to keep my secret.