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Bravery, Before Forty

June 5, 2014



What is bravery?

The dictionary says it's "the quality that allows someone to do things that are dangerous or frightening," but what does it look like?

That seems too simple.  I always envision a figure that is in mortal peril, facing an absolutely dismal, no-win situation, a la Joan of Arc or an innocent person facing a firing squad or a hungry cheetah.  I don't know why, but those seem like the scariest possible scenarios to me, and I imagine that anyone who could remain conscious in the face of certain, impending doom is incredibly brave.

Fireman?  Brave.  Passengers on the Titanic?  Brave.  Holocaust survivor?  Extra double brave.

I am not brave.

I'm just Whitney.  John's wife.  Nicholas' mom.  The last five months have been a little uncomfortable and extremely inconvenient for me, but I am not brave.

I was diagnosed with non-invasive breast cancer, and I was terrified.  I was terrified by the thought of not doing every single thing within my power to eliminate it and prevent an invasive recurrence, and I chose bilateral mastectomy.  Took about two minutes to consider all of the options and arrive at that decision, and I never considered anything less.

I don't know one mother who would not make the same decision I made.  I am not brave.  I have just had to make a frightening decision that you have not had to make.

My (hopefully) last reconstructive surgery was last week.  I had spent the previous four months recovering with the tissue expanders, and I had almost returned to my prior level of function.  I was strong(ish), I was exercising, and I looked great, although I didn't feel so hot.  

Now I've hit "rewind," and I am right back to restricted activity.  No lifting more than five pounds, no physical exertion, blah blah blah.  Nothing about my day resembles bravery, except for the drain removal today.. I was pretty cool with that.  But that doesn't make me brave... I've never minded needles and such.  Could be worse.  Could be much worse.

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