I Forgot to Cry

iUniverse, Inc.

Contents

1. Where to Begin?...........................................12. Follow the Yellow Brick Road..............................73. Byrd and the Boys.........................................294. Healing with Acts of Love and Support.....................385. Healing with Humor and Humility...........................416. Who Needs Hair?...........................................477. Healing with Passion and Purpose..........................518. On the Road to Healing....................................549. Faith over Fear...........................................58Tribute to Family and Friends................................61Addendum Interview Questions.................................63

Chapter One

My breast cancer journey began in the wee hours of Friday, February 8, 2008. I had a typical Thursday evening commute, leaving the slow-motion, bumper-to-bumper stress of Washington, DC, and arriving in a neat suburban community in Cheverly, Maryland, where I have lived with my husband and two sons for twenty-seven years. My husband, Jerome or Jerre, is affectionately known as "Byrd." Ever since high school, when he was a member of the track team, all his friends call him Byrd because he used to float like a bird over the high-jump bar. I call him Byrd.

I have been married twice. My first husband was Sam. We were married on June 23, 1973, and relocated to Washington from Kansas because it was his home. We parted amicably as friends after three years, but I decided to stay in Washington because I enjoyed the city. My twin sister, Claudette, also moved to DC about three months after I married Sam, and she has been here ever since. Over the years, I've met lots of wonderful people, including my second husband. We married on August 23, 1980.

When I walked in the door that evening in 2008, I knew I would be home alone. Byrd was called in unexpectedly to work overtime. This happens every once in a while when another computer programmer is out or when a technical problem requires all hands on deck to resolve it.

Our older son, Warren, was no longer living at home. At twenty-six years old, he was living on his own and working as an assistant manager at a nearby car rental service. Our younger son, Allan, was miles away. He was nineteen years old at the time and attending his first year of college in Virginia. I am not a person who has spent much time alone. Even in the womb, I had company. I was born with a fraternal twin named Claudette in Topeka, Kansas. My name is Claudean Bernice Robinson, known by many as "Nia," but if you grew up with me, you know me as "Deanny."

A lot of people talk about the "empty-nest syndrome," but I loved the peace and quiet of being at home alone, especially after a long, hard week at the office. I came in the door, and I loved the silence. I put my purse and keys on the red, contemporary sofa on the way to the hall closet to hang up my coat. Finally, I could breathe in, relax, draw some water for a cup of peppermint tea, and take it easy in the kitchen, where I always seem to find myself.

Moving through the quiet, enjoying the peace all around me, I took a few sips of tea and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. My bedroom is my sanctuary. Red is my favorite color, but my bedroom is blue. That's where I withdraw to find peace. My magazines are there; my chaise lounge and my music are there—anything I feel like hearing, jazz, R&B, country. It's all in my bedroom. So I sat in the chaise lounge, flipped on the TV to listen to the news, and started looking at the mail and a few of my bills.

I'm not sure how long I was sitting there, but pretty soon I was no longer watching the TV; the TV was watching me. I was so drained from my week at work that I realized I was dozing and managed to climb into bed. I woke up in the middle of the night. I never wear a watch. I don't even set an alarm to go to work in the mornings, but this night I noticed the clock on my husband's side of the bed read 2:30am. Somehow I almost felt driven to go to the bathroom. When I flipped on the light, I looked in the mirror, and for some reason I placed my hand on my right breast and felt a lump about the size of a small acorn. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night is not unusual for me. I generally take a trip or two during the night, but this particular trip was different. It changed my life forever.

It's funny how your mind races when you are in a space unknown to you. Time froze for me, and a thousand different emotions washed over me all at once. I felt threatened and afraid. I couldn't move. I was filled with the uncertainty of what that moment would mean to me. I was overpowered by fear. Those emotions were so intense that I hope I never experience that again. The impact was so heavy and so powerful.

I remember thinking, God, why now? I knew then my life would never be the same. I was about to embark on a new journey. Somehow I knew, but at the same time, I didn't have a clue what was in store for me. Immediately, my mind was flooded with a million questions. I wondered, God, how much more time will you allow me to spend with my family and friends?

At that moment, I felt incomplete. In particular, I didn't feel like I had finished raising my youngest son. All I really needed was the opportunity to see my sons mature and become independent, self-sufficient men. I had barely adjusted to Allan being gone, and my fear was that I might not be able to guide him to maturity like I had with his older brother. Warren was maturing nicely. That pleased me. I relaxed some when I accepted that if it was God's plan to transition me from this earth, Warren would be a strong mentor for his younger brother and a comfort to his father.

All of this ran through my mind in a matter of moments. When I felt the lump, I was stunned and I gasped. I had thought I was all alone, but I heard Warren call upstairs from the bottom of the steps. He must have used his key to the basement door, and I didn't hear him come in.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I heard his feet climbing the stairs. He pushed his way into the doorframe of the bathroom where I was still standing looking in the mirror. I turned to him and looked in his face and said, "Warren, Mom just found a lump in her breast."

"Mom, we need to go to the hospital." He was looking surprised and shocked.

I think he sensed fear in me. He was so used to seeing me as strong and in control. He's very sensitive, very perceptive, so I knew he could sense something was wrong with me. His concern made the mother in me take over. I didn't want him to have anxiety about something unknown. I decided to calm down, and I began to put some things in motion.

"Warren, I promise I will call the doctor's office in the morning and make an appointment." He began to calm down and relax once I said that. I also knew that going to the emergency room at that time would take about as long as it would take for the doctor's office to open. Plus, the doctor's office had my history and could be more efficient in determining what was wrong.

I knew I had to call my husband.

I called Byrd at work, and he said, "Hey, what are you doing up?"

"I wanted you to know that I just discovered a lump in my right breast," I said calmly and matter-of-factly.

Byrd is a fairly mellow person. He doesn't get excited very easily. He was...