The Path to Defying Shadows
My breast cancer diagnosis wasn’t a unique story. On the surface it’s a straightforward series of medical events that all sound boring. I had a mammogram that showed an anomaly, followed by an ultrasound, a biopsy, and the scariest call of my life. I had invasive ductal carcinoma, which is the most common breast cancer. In that, I was lucky. The most common means the most researched, the most treated, and hopefully the most often cured. My treatment plan was laid out before me like a map to follow, one step at a time: MRI, surgery, radiation, and I should have cancer kicked by the end of the year.
I had my lumpectomy only weeks after diagnosis and found out I had to have chemotherapy two weeks later, the day before Thanksgiving weekend. I was devastated. My “get rid of this cancer BS and get back to normal life” plan was completely derailed, because chemo would be a five-month course before the month of radiation. Instead of a quick timeline, cancer stole nearly a year from diagnosis to survivorship (the stage after active treatment when you’re cancer free but doctors are still monitoring and, in my case, medicating to prevent a recurrence). I realized not long into this journey that there would be no “back to normal” after treatment. The nuance of all those standard steps is so much deeper and more complex than the sterile medical care of the body. Cancer is a watershed event that changes your mind, body, and spirit forever.
I lived alone with my dog and cat and was sure I could handle treatment alone. Of course I couldn’t. My parents, sisters, aunts, and friends all supported me physically and mentally, sticking with me for the marathon of chemo, but my last few months of treatment happened during Covid forced isolation and social distancing. I was alone more than anyone intended.
The very idea of the support groups offered by various organizations only made me more anxious. I hate being the center of attention at the best of times, and I didn’t want to overload strangers with TMI (too much information). Always a reader, I searched for books and websites that could provide information and support at a distance. There is a wealth of information out there for breast cancer patients, but most of it falls into two categories: completely secular science data, which is useful but not always comforting; or mental and spiritual support that’s based on Christian philosophy and ideals. Again, sometimes useful but not exactly what a person who follows a Pagan path needs.
I wrote Defying Shadows because I’m an annoyingly stoic introvert who needed a guide for my journey through breast cancer that fit with my needs and beliefs. Since I couldn’t find that guide while I was in treatment, I felt compelled to use my experiences as a roadmap other witches and Pagans may find useful while they’re on a similar road. I sincerely hope Defying Shadows fits that bill and brings some comfort, suggestions, and solidarity to witches and Pagans struggling with their own journeys.