GUEST AUTHOR BLOG POST SERIES
In this series, we hear from other authors traveling on the writing journey.

During the first year of breast cancer treatment, I had journaled all of my rage, angst, gratitude, and plans. I also emailed my family and friends (My Everyone), who really wanted to know how I was doing, so I did not have to hear or say those cancer words any more than necessary. I thought that once I had completed the treatment, I would write a memoir. It would be a whimsical tale complete with humor and a happy ending (I survived). For years, I took out the journal and collection of emails, compiled, organized, then abandoned the whole project. There was too much fear I did not want to relive. I put everything away, believing it was a story I did not have to tell. I was healthy, a bit wiser, and happy to live my life without that menace.

Then, within five years, I was diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic breast cancer (MBC). This is the forever cancer that eventually kills. Now I was terrified.

I resurrected the journal and emails and read through that epic year. I looked for proof that I could navigate this new diagnosis.

The act of writing revealed simple revelations that saw me through the fear and treatments five years before. Writing confirmed the courage I had then and the strength I need to draw upon now. Here are some of the lessons I learned.

1.  Laughter was truly medicinal.

Writing and reading back about the days’ chuckles was key to keeping my spirits lifted and courage honed. The emails were filled with amusing anecdotes, and my journal entries retold funny moments.

2.  I acknowledged the perks of chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

I had lost weight (I had plenty to spare) without feeling I was missing anything. I was so lucky that my hair thinned out to an almost normal thickness. It actually looked like it had a style and was in control.

3.  I wrote about how valuable my family and friendships were during this tough time.

I was invited out on lunch dates, a movie, or just sit around on a couch with a glass of wine (or ice water). I noted our schemes for the future and did not have to talk about cancer or treatments. They kept me in the loop. I did not have to repeat the story over and over again since they read the emails.

4.  Each time I had to see my oncologist, nurse, or specialist, I brought my journal and turned to my list of questions and concerns.

They patiently repeated, worked around my wimpy quirks, and handed me tissues with a smile and a hug. I felt safe and wrote how much I appreciated their time, attention, and compassion.

5.  My journal entries included the awe of sunsets, how my dog greeted me, and the satisfaction of doing a job well.

A warm afternoon inspired a walk around the corner. Gratitude provided a positive outlook. Each day I could get up, do a job, see people I love, and hug everyone I knew, was a great day. Every day is a gift. It still is.

About the Author

Antoinette Truglio Martin is a life-long Long Islander, teacher, wife, mother, daughter, and friend. She is the author of Hug Everyone You Know: A Year of Community, Courage, and Cancer—a memoir chronicling her first year battling breast cancer as a wimpy patient. Personal experience essays and excerpts of her memoir were published in Bridges, Visible Ink, and The Southampton Review. Martin proudly received her MFA in creative writing and literature from Stony Brook/Southampton University in 2016.  Follow her at Facebook and her website.