I was riding on the shuttle from the San Francisco airport to Santa Rosa in June 2010 when my cell phone rang. It was the unfamiliar voice of a nurse practitioner from Kaiser who asked if I was sitting in a private place. I was alarmed, since I had recently had a breast biopsy. I seated myself in the back of the bus where I could have some privacy when I heard her say the word “cancer,” that scary disease that happened to other people and not me. I was afraid that it might be a death sentence since my mother and two of her three sisters had died of various types of cancer.

Because of FA and the good fortune of having just returned from the FA business convention in Massachusetts filled with fellowship, hope, and gratitude, I had a sense that I would be okay. I was able to stay in the present and not get into the worry and “what-ifs.” In the past I would have shoved down my feelings with food, feeding my emotions, particularly those of sadness and anger. At best, I would have pretended that I was “fine.” At worst, I would have wallowed in self-pity, considered I had been dealt a bad hand, and I would have given up.  At my almost 200-pound weight in 2006, I would likely not have even noticed the lump in my breast because of all of the fatty tissue, so FA likely has saved my life. I am now maintaining a weight loss of 75 to 80 pounds.

I was grateful that at that time I had four solid years of FA recovery. My tools were clearly in place and helped me stay abstinent by keeping me connected to my higher power, my sponsor, and my fellows in FA. I cold plan ahead and ask for help. My husband gave me loving support, as did my fellows. I spoke with a fellow who had gone through breast cancer and had stayed abstinent, and I spoke about my feelings to my sponsor and people with whom I was closely connected. I was able to make clear decisions for my health care.

Herein lies the miracle: I didn’t eat addictively and was able to keep my abstinence through the diagnosis, treatment, and recovery from breast cancer. I didn’t even want to eat, because I knew if I did, I would have two problems, not one.

I was not one to talk much about my cancer at meetings at that time, but am more open now. I did feel fear, but I didn’t feel alone and isolated. I felt a sense of safety because I was open to sharing my feelings; I did not hide my feelings or stuff them down.  I felt safe within a network of care. I now love being able to help people going through cancer and be a part of their network of FA support.

I have been given the gift of true gratitude for each day and in FA I am learning to prioritize and learn what I want. I was sixty-five at the time of my diagnosis. In my later sixties, seventies, and eighties, I want to focus on painting and on doing service in FA. Those old habits of worry, self-centered fear, and dis-ease can occur, but I have a higher power, a sponsor, and other tools to help me focus on what I want to do and not be distracted by unwanted negativity, future-tripping, or regrets of the past.

When I see my oncologist today I can feel good that I have a right-sized body, a food plan that consists of foods recommended for cancer recovery, and that I get moderate exercise and am learning to relax. I say thank you in the morning, at night, and in quiet thoughts during the day that I have the gift of a healthy life.