Summer Gordon

The unthinkable became possible, and suddenly very real on December 12, 2011. My life as I had been living it was now part of a distant chapter, never to be experienced again. I have cancer. Fate doesn’t care that I’m only 28, a single parent, college student, dancer, energy worker, I still have cancer. This new chapter, my journey of healing and recovering, was dropped in to call my attention to the things I had been missing. Everything changed. This startling truth drove a wedge between me and many of my friends. Facing me meant confronting mortality. How can this be? I surrounded my confusion with a fortress of protection. I listened to, read about, and absorbed all information necessary to make the difficult decisions thrust upon me. In the beginning, I battled everyone and everything. How could I believe anything when the real fight had already been waging inside of me unseen? Trusting only the friendly surgeon to remove the tumor from my body, I rejected the urgings to proceed with radiation and chemotherapy. While also under threat from downward cycling baby’s daddy, I chose to move with my son to safety. This was one for the records indeed. But the cancer moved with me. I tried every natural remedy, whole food, or supplement that made sense to me, saw a Naturopath and counselor regularly, alkalized, exercised, and detoxified myself completely. I mended important relationships with honesty and love. I forgave the people I still resented for hurting me. I choose living over dying, whatever the cost may be. My son desperately needs me. His love keeps me focused and determined to put this all behind us, only to exist in memory. A recent checkup revealed lingering or recurring cancerous residue. Not wanting to risk it spreading, I jumped into more surgery. This time, a mastectomy. Only with the love and devoted support from my friends who are dear to me, was I able to proceed. One year exactly from the day of diagnosis I am now recovering. My new battle scar will forever tell the tale of my fight to survive. I will continue to do whatever is necessary to be here for my family. I am so grateful just to be alive.