KEEPING IT REAL WRITTEN BY BLAIR FJESETH
It wasn’t until my best friend said, “I think I have a lump in my boob,” that I felt what cancer was for the first time; and feeling it was a realization that this is real life, and we are adults. A fact that, at times, is easy to forget in the mad dash of working and child-rearing. I’m embarrassed to say that, before that day, I didn’t know much about breast cancer. I knew what cancer was generally, of course. I’ve known people who had cancer, though nobody in my inner circle. I check my breasts for lumps when I’m in the shower, though I’ll admit I don’t exactly know exactly what I’m looking for, or rather, feeling for. As my fingers pushed in on the very obvious lump, my stomach knotted, my throat became dry and my eyes felt like they had been on the receiving end of pepper spray. This was my person, the person who held my babies before my family even laid eyes on them, the person with whom I have shared all my secrets; she’s the Christina Yang to my Meredith Grey. It was all too much and yet not enough. Why were we just standing there? Why were we not instantly transported to the very best doctor who already had a very reassuring game plan to inoculate her from this nasty beast who obviously picked the wrong person to inhabit? As the following weeks of tests proceeded, I felt helpless. Here is my rock star friend going through this terrifying experience and, thanks to COVID, she is doing it nearly alone. Yes, the power of FaceTime is wonderful and, thankfully, she has a super supportive spouse. Still, not having friends and family physically near in times of struggle can surely add a level of fear and anxiety to an already stressful situation. Not to mention how exhausting it is
to rehash the same information a million times on various platforms to keep everyone “in the loop.” So, I did what I do best...I joined online support groups for friends of people who have cancer, shopped for comfy clothes for her as though they could be literal shields from the pain I feared she would feel and sent her inappropriate, hysterical cards that perfectly match our oddly identical sense of humor. And yet, I felt as helpless as ever. Here we are in the year 2021, a year that was supposed to be infinitely better than the year prior, and my best friend has cancer. When did “worst year ever” become a competition our universe decided to participate in? 2021, the year my best friend fights the biggest battle of her life (except against the patriarchy). This story, her story, is yet unfinished. It’s still in its infancy, with many chapters ahead, including the one when she victoriously conquers the beast known as cancer. It’s this story, though, that’s taken up permanent residency in my mind. It’s why I’m writing- rather, pleading- for each of you reading this to take great care of yourselves, check for lumps, get yearly exams, take the time to stay up to date on your medical history. It’s a plea to look out for one another to bring back the village and check-in constantly on our fellow Montana mamas. My friend is my world, and if you are as lucky as I to have a “person,” protect and love them at all costs. This column is to say to all of you parents fighting cancer, or quite frankly, any other disease (physical or mental), I see you, and my heart is with you. You are not alone. Blair Fjeseth is a working professional and proud Montana mom. You can reach her at blairparker.inc@gmail.com. Follow her Instagram @blair_mt for more adventures.
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april 2021
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