The iconic Scott Hamilton and me.
My facebook post from 1/24/19:
It wasn’t a sneeze: I have breast cancer.
I can say yesterday was close to one of the worst days of my life, and yet it wasn’t so bad. I have an incredible family that went into deal mode with me. Dave and Will are my rocks as always. A billion heart emojis received helped me get through the night.
And huge thank you to the skating community. I got the call from the scheduling nurse as I was checking into LCA for my volunteer shift at nationals. That’s how fresh the news was as I encountered one friend after another who got ugly cry after innocently asking how’s it going. I apologize for ugly cry and thank you so much for your hugs. Within 90 minutes of getting the news, I get a cancer pep talk from Scott Hamilton? How does this even happen?!
I’ve got the best tools to make it through this: family, friends, and reasons to fight. I do not want to dissolve into tearful handwringing, I already did that. What got me through yesterday were tiny joys and small gestures of kindness, so small the giver probably didn’t even realize the impact. It’s ok to share your condolences but I’d prefer you share a tiny joy. After all, I think that’s what helps most of us get through our days.
But wait, there's more.
Bad kitty!
The morning of the worst day of my life, I was packing for Nationals, and snapped this amusing picture of the cat sitting in my suitcase, apparently not pleased I was leaving. To the right of this picture is a Pierre Cardin scarf, a gift Dave brought me from Paris many years ago when we were dating.
After showering and putting the last of my toiletries in my suitcase, I grabbed everything, including the scarf, and headed out for a long weekend of skating.
The cancer call happens. So does ugly crying.
I compose myself in the parking garage, grab my uniform, including the scarf, to head into Little Ceaser's Arena.
I get another cancer doc call to say they will be following up so I can make plans for my masectomy. More ugly crying. I get the uniform jacket from check-in, put scarf around my neck. Ugly cry happens on and off during the entire day, including interaction with competitors, friends, celebrities, and the most elite of elite figure skating names. Hugs happen on the regular.
I finally get to the point I'm all out of tears, and head towards my sister-in-law's house. The cold January air helps clear my sinuses.
Sniff. What the...?
The cat marked my scarf. I smelled like cat pee all day.
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