Why Me? I try not to think those words, but I do. This can’t happen to me. I’m not ready to think about these things. There is no way I can handle this now. I’m thinking those words too. Tomorrow I will sit in my doctor’s office waiting to hear pathology results that I have been assured are probably going to be non-malignant, but all I can think about is the word probably. The word probably sucks. I’ve taken every curveball life has thrown at me recently. I don’t know. Why Me?

I have always said that I live a “Why Not Me?” mentality – I know life is precious and not guaranteed. I know life can change unexpectedly. I’ve seen it happen. I believe bad things and tough times fall on really good people. Life is just rough sometimes and unfair

sometimes. I had believed in this conviction more than anything the past 6 months as I had made a conscious effort to start living my life differently. Better. I was taking risks and confronting my fears and being brave and being independent and being passionate about what mattered to me.

I felt strong and confident. I was kind of kicking life’s ass to be honest! And then suddenly, I wasn’t. I was getting knocked down. Hard. I was going through significant changes in my personal life, experiencing struggles as a mother, and I had lost someone who had meant a lot to me. I was made to feel less than and became disappointed in the person I was. Every damn fear and insecurity I ever had came flooding back. It’s that feeling of going backwards. One day you look in the mirror and smile – pride – and the next day you can’t even make eye contact with the person you see.

And then the minor medical procedure. I went from a minor procedure to finding a possible fibroid in my uterus to discovering it was not a fibroid but a growth that could be cancerous and would lead to uterine rupture. I went from having my body intact to coming to terms with having my uterus removed to finding out I also had severe endometriosis which would mean I needed a “total abdominal hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy”. Shit! I would be put into surgical menopause at 44 and require at least 7 years of medication and hormone therapy as a best-case scenario.

I’m not going to lie. I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried my freaking eyes out when I heard. I felt like the air had been taken from my body. I knew other women had gone through similar things – hell so many have gone through so much worse – but it just completely overwhelmed me. I think it was all the pieces at once that felt like they were falling down on me. I couldn’t hold the weight.

I tried to put on a brave face and be positive and be strong, but I didn’t feel that way. Not at all. The doctor’s office called and wanted to talk. We talked about blood transfusions because I was at an increased risk for hemorrhage. We talked about how a second surgeon would be assisting as I was considered high risk and as a just in case measure. What the hell just in case were they thinking? We talked about if I had a DNR – Do Not Resuscitate Order – and that maybe I should consider having one. I didn’t want a DNR because I didn’t want to need a DNR! We talked about how if the doctor felt the growth needed to be sent to pathology they would and once the results were known we would discuss treatment options if needed. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever. I didn’t want to talk about any of this. Ever. I didn’t want to think about any of this. Ever.

I wanted to lay in my bed and cry. I wanted to feel sorry for myself. Why me? Why now? Why all at once? What had I done to deserve this? I see those quotes about how life only gives you what you can handle and well, I think that’s crap. I was not strong enough and I was not brave enough. I certainly was not handling things. At all. This is where I really went down the rabbit hole. I allowed myself to think about and fear EVERY SINGLE OUTCOME. I thought about dying. I thought about my kids if something happened to me. I thought about the things I needed to say to people in case something happened to me. I wrote letters just in case. Do you have any idea how hard it is to write a just in case letter. It sucks. Why Me?

I was so scared the night before surgery. I was having a conversation with a friend who really was trying to be supportive and be positive and assure me everything was going to be fine, but I didn’t want to hear that. I really wanted to hear someone say was I’m sorry you’re going through this, this really sucks, and I would be scared if I was you too. I wanted someone to say I don’t know why this is happening to you. It isn’t fair. I don’t know why you? You don’t deserve this. I wanted everyone to be as negative as I was so it would validate this place I was in and the feelings I felt. I wanted it to be okay for me to ask Why Me?

Long story short. I made it through surgery. The growth was significantly bigger than expected and the surgery took longer and there were more stitches, but I did good. The doctor said the growth did not appear malignant and I would know in a week. One night in the hospital and I was home. It was over. I remember thanking God and the universe and feeling so grateful for the large amount of people I knew had prayed and sent good vibes my way. What I didn’t do though was ask Why me? Why had I survived? Why did my growth not appear to be cancer? Why did the prognosis look really good for me? This started to bother me. A lot. Because I knew someone, somewhere on that day had not gotten the results I had. Someone had gotten the results I feared. Someone had not made it through surgery.

My first instinct was to be ashamed for my thoughts and the place I found myself in. It’s hard to admit that type of thinking, but I think I have to forgive myself for that. I was scared. I was vulnerable. I was overwhelmed. I felt weak. I felt alone. It was just too much at once. At least for me it was. I think I have to find a way to give myself some credit for coming through the other side – for being strong enough to admit how I felt and strong enough to learn that I want to be better. I’m not proud of any of it but I’m not sure I should keep feeling ashamed either.

Why Not Me? I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot. I know it’s not about who I am or how I live my life or that somehow I deserve less or more. I just think life truly is an unknown. It’s a cliché, but there are no guarantees in life. I don’t have plenty of time – I may – but I don’t know for sure. I may be able to get to it tomorrow, but the reality is, I may have seen my last tomorrow. I may be able to tell someone I’m Sorry or I Love You tomorrow or next week or next month, but I may not. Right now, this moment, today, is my only guarantee.

Why Me? It’s a big lesson. An important lesson. I get it. Tomorrow I find out the pathology results for my growth. I’m pretty confident it won’t be cancer, but it could be. My life may change drastically. But I’m ready for whatever it is. I really think I am. I will fight. I will move forward. I will love every single day and never be afraid to look ahead. I am going to live this life. I am going to dance every damn day. I am going to be strong and active and do the things that make me happy. I am going to laugh and smile every day. Every day. I’m going to drink the margarita – hell I may have a few! I’m going to be the best mother and teacher and friend and person I can be. I’m going to think and write and share my voice. I’m going to continue to be unapologetically me – like me or don’t – I will be me. I am going to travel and meet new people and learn all I can about this amazing world. I am going to make mistakes and I am going to hurt people and I am going to have to apologize and I am going to get hurt and I am going to have to forgive. So Why Me? Why Me? Maybe it was just random bad luck and really crappy timing. Maybe it was just my turn. Maybe it was because I needed to be reminded of what I am capable of overcoming. Maybe it was so that I would learn lessons and walk away a better person. I don’t know Why Me?