by Danielle Tantone | 12:29 pm | Faith, Family & Relationships
I have never been a poet.
My thoughts come out in paragraphs,
not alliterations, allusions, anaphoras and assonance.
But I too prefer writing to speaking.
The time it takes to type slows and smooths the jumbled edges of my feelings.
On the outside I’m scattered and busy and running around…
Making sure everyone is fed…
Cleaning up messes and answering calls at home or at work…
Running up and down hallways and stairs to get everyone what they want…
trying to keep peace where there is always discord…
trying to keep the angry, hurt, self-centered and yelling people calm and happy…
trying to keep us from sinking…
trying to pull us out from a deep pit…
trying to keep just a little time for myself, to calm my own frayed edges…
trying to write the things that are in my heart, to publish the stories that I know I must…
I wake in the middle of the night. Sleep still stinging in my eyes, the aching pulse of too few hours closed.
And there is so much I think I “should” do as long as I can’t sleep.
But all I can think about is you, my baby girl.
How I wish you would let me in.
As your mom I have the right to look inside the window like a voyeur in the night.
But I don’t want to be an uninvited guest in your heart.
I want to have a secret code name that lets me in too.
I want you to know that I see you.
You are more than a piece of play dough for me to mold.
You are beautiful and perfect, inside and out,
even as you roll your eyes, argue and ignore.
I see you and I know you.
And I love you no matter what.
And I don’t think your feelings are stupid, your problems trivial, your drama silly.
And I never mean to discount them or discount you as I try to smooth it over and make you smile.
I always try to jump too fast to the silver lining.
But I’m learning that joy needs sadness too.
I don’t always have to rush in and fix it.
It’s OK to just be sad or angry.
All those ups and downs, those feelings, desires, doubts and questions…
I have felt them too.
And the deepest pain as a mom is to see your baby hurt.
The baby cries and you cry too.
The baby falls and you want to run and scoop her up, cradle her in your arms, rock her gently until everything is OK.
You’re still that little baby whose booboos I kissed.
Only now you squirm away instead of letting me hold you.
I had to let you go much earlier than is normal.
Divorce. My fault. My doing.
I used to cry every time you were at your other home.
So many regrets.
So much of your life I miss.
My heart aches to see your heart aching.
And I wish you would let me in the door.
For just a cup of tea.
Some stories by the fire.
A game? A craft? A recipe?
We don’t have to talk too much.
It’s cold outside peaking in the window.
And I have things to share too.
Won’t you let me in?
by Danielle Tantone | 8:43 am | Breast Cancer, Faith, Family & Relationships, Health & Wellness, Mindset, Mental Health & Entrepreneurship, Nursing, Night Shifts & School, People Stories
I wrote this article to be published in the January issue of Las Sendas Life magazine, which is distributed in hard copy form to the I-don’t-know-how-many thousands of residents in our community each month. It’s basically an intro to my Breast Cancer journey and a hint at where I’d like to go from here. I’m so grateful to the magazine’s publisher, Heather Harrison for giving me another medium to share my message.
None of this will be news to those of you who have been following along since I started posting about this almost exactly two months ago, but I figured it’s a good place to start as I attempt to go back and fill in the details of the story.
People have told me they are impressed by my openness, my positivity, my courage, even if some of them think I’m crazy for blabbing about my personal business to anyone who will listen. And I have said again and again that it’s easy to be positive when I feel so lucky, when my cancer was so minor, when I really wasn’t sick and didn’t have to sacrifice anything.
They have told me not to minimize my pain, my experience. Facing cancer and getting both your breasts amputated actually is a big deal!
But I have felt so guilty, when others die from this disease and I was prepared to suffer, but didn’t have to.
Yet I realized, after connecting to an old friend at a party the other night, my first social event since the surgery, that this is about more than just me. She shared the terrifying experience of her own recent biopsy (which turned out benign) and we laughed about how barbaric and uncomfortable that procedure was. “You need to write about that,” she said. And I realized that I have glossed over some of the negative aspects of my experience because they just didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me, and I wanted to jump right away to the positive.
I have watched friends lose parents and children, suffer from autoimmune diseases that in many ways are worse than cancer because they are so undefined and misunderstood. I have seen friends die: from breast cancer or liver failure, accidents, suicide, even murder. Who am I to talk of pain?
But who I am is someone who can give words to my experience and the experiences of others, I can tell the stories of the struggles and triumphs that make us human. It’s what I have always been best at. So I will go back over the events and details of the last few months of my experience and share the details – not just the positive affirmations, but the scary moments too. And I will begin to sprinkle in other people’s stories too. That’s my gift.
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Getting breast cancer wasn’t in my plans, at least not right now.
I had recently turned 45 and had just begun the second year of a three-year accelerated BSN nursing program. I was working nights as a nursing assistant at a hospital across town and juggling a husband, three kids and a home. I was also helping a Real Estate client negotiate the purchase of a home.
But God didn’t ask me about my timing.
And quite frankly, though I didn’t know it yet, I needed a break from the frenetic pace of my life. When I received the diagnosis of High-Grade Ductal Carcinoma in Situ (DCIS) on September 20, 2019, I felt more relieved than upset. If you were going to get breast cancer, this was the kind to get – the earliest, most treatable form, “cancer-lite.” My mom had received the same diagnosis almost exactly 10 years earlier, and she was cancer-free and thriving.
It wasn’t really a surprise.
While the average woman has a 1 in 8, or 12% chance of developing breast cancer in her lifetime, my risk had been calculated at 36%, due to family history, dense breast tissue, some past lumps that had turned out benign, and other factors. Because of my high-risk status, every six months I went in for either a mammogram/ultrasound or an MRI. When the radiologist said he saw some new microcalcifications on the mammogram that were a bit concerning, I didn’t feel afraid, but immediately scheduled the biopsy he recommended and started researching.
I eat healthy, exercise regularly, keep my weight in check and try to keep stress levels low.
I don’t drink much alcohol. I don’t smoke or take drugs. I use all-natural home cleaning and skincare products, free from caustic chemicals. So frankly, I was a bit peeved to still get cancer. But even though I believe in natural medicine and holistic approaches, and perhaps naturopathic medicine could have erased this cancer, I was tired of being high risk, always wondering if I was going to get breast cancer. Several women I had known had died from this horrible disease. I never wavered on my decision to get a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction.
It’s a Very Personal Choice. Every Cancer, Every Woman, Every Life is Different.
Although a lumpectomy combined with radiation was an option for me, the bilateral mastectomy mitigated my risk and precluded the need for chemotherapy, radiation or even hormonal treatments common with lumpectomies and single mastectomies. My breasts had served their intended purpose, breastfeeding all three of my children. They had entertained my husband. They had even earned me beads at Mardi Gras in New Orleans in another life…
But they were heavy, with dense fibrous tissue that likes to hide cancers and other masses. And frankly, a new set of smaller, perkier boobs didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Silver linings. It’s all about finding the silver linings.
I started sharing my journey online and noticed my writing touched a chord.
People started reaching out to tell me of their diagnoses or struggles, impressed by my courage and positivity. I realized I could inspire others to face their own tough circumstances with courage, laughter and love. Even though not everyone’s prognosis is as good as mine, the attitude we bring to the table – our faith, joy and love, can make a huge difference in our healing process, or in the process of navigating any tough experience.
We are all a Piece of Work, a Work in Progress, and a Work of Art, all at the same time.
It’s a phrase I coined over the past few years as I realized that everyone is trying to figure out and navigate this thing called life, whether they are a child, an adult, a pastor’s wife, a doctor or a world leader.
Forced to take a break from nursing school, I decided to finally finish that book I’ve been working on for years and develop my blog, www.DanielleTantone.com to share stories, educate, and inspire people to live their best life, be their best self, love with all their heart, and find beauty in their darkest days. After all, “life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” – Vivian Green
My breast reconstruction process is ongoing and there will be a few additional surgeries, but today I am thankful to be alive and cancer free.
This will be the first article in an ongoing series focusing not just on breast cancer, but on overcoming. If you have a story – about your own breast cancer journey, another health struggle you’ve already overcome or are still muddling through, or something else you’d like to share with the community, feel free to reach out to Danielle@106danielle.nohassle.website.
by Danielle Tantone | 10:14 pm | Faith, Family & Relationships, People Stories
Although my life has had a somewhat singular focus recently – breast cancer, getting rid of it and recovering from the getting rid of it – life does still keep going on and on. Kids still get colds and stay home from school. We still have to pay bills and we have to argue with the cable company. Birthdays, anniversaries, events still come and go.
I’ve always been in tune with patterns and dates, taking note of what I was doing this time last year, five years ago, 20 years ago. Sometimes Facebook reminds me with a picture of my girls when they were so tiny, or a video of them doing something cute or funny. These Facebook memories make me smile and bring back a flood of memories.
But sometimes a date pops up that doesn’t need a Facebook memory to be significant. Often it’s a date that is no longer appropriate to celebrate, like a deceased friend’s birthday, my parents’ wedding anniversary when they’ve been divorced longer than the 25 years they were married. Or something that was never a celebration in the first place, like the day my grandpa died or the day I got divorced. But I still take note of the dates, and I remember, enjoying a silent celebration, a smile, or a moment of sadness at the memory, and sometimes I reach out to one of the people who shared the day and understand its significance.
Today is one such date. November 8th, the 16th anniversary of the day that I met my ex-husband, Matt – Camryn and Kate’s dad – in a dusty schoolyard in Gila Bend, AZ, a life-changing day, no matter how you look at it, and regardless of the fact that we are no longer married and each happily remarried. If it wasn’t for that meeting, we wouldn’t have our two beautiful daughters and I would probably not have become a Christian. I wouldn’t be the person I am today. It’s hard not to celebrate a day like that. It’s amazing how a single moment can change the course of a life. My life has had many of those moments. Has yours?
Here’s an excerpt from the “shitty” first draft of my memoir, Believe, that I wrote many years ago. It’s the scene of that day 16 years ago, when I met him after riding 75ish miles on a bicycle, and the next day as we rode back together. The details are less clear now, and if I was writing it from today’s perspective, there might be different things that stand out as important than the ones I shared when I wrote it. But I’m glad I wrote it down back then, even though the writing makes me cringe just a little. I don’t know if this scene or a version of it will be included in the final draft of the memoir that I’m working on now, but it was on my mind and I wanted to share it since this may be the only place this particular version is ever published.
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by Danielle Tantone | 9:49 pm | Breast Cancer, Faith, Family & Relationships, Nursing, Night Shifts & School
This post is the transcript of a short speech I delivered this morning at a women’s bible study at our church. The 7-week study started right before my cancer diagnosis and ended the day before my double mastectomy. It played a large part in fueling my peaceful positive attitude over the past few months.
In the first week of September, I returned from a Labor Day weekend trip to San Diego with my family, I turned 45 years old, and I began my second year of a three-year accelerated BSN nursing program. I was working nights as a nursing assistant at a hospital and juggling three kids, a husband and a home. I was also helping a real estate client negotiate the purchase of a home.
I didn’t really have time to start a bible study, and I knew that. But I missed the community of this weekly gathering, and my packed schedule had an opening on Tuesday mornings, so I had signed up for Psalm 23, The Shepherd with Me, led by Yvonne Vail with the book by Jennifer Rothschild. I knew the Psalm well. Green pastures. Still waters. I figured maybe God could show me how to find just a little rest in the midst of my chaotic life. I decided that I would give myself grace and not even try to do the homework, but just show up and be fed. I had no idea just how relevant, timely, and comforting this particular teaching of this beautiful piece of scripture would be to me. I only have a few minutes, not nearly enough time to share all that has happened, but I wanted to share a few tidbits I have gleaned as God weaved these words into my life in recent weeks.
Week One: The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want.
The second week of September was another busy one. I squeezed in a routine mammogram that Thursday. I had been monitored pretty closely for the past few years due to family history and some issues that had turned out benign in the past. When the radiologist said he saw some new microcalcifications on the mammogram that were a bit concerning, I didn’t feel afraid, but immediately scheduled the biopsy he recommended and started researching on the internet. I thought, “God, I guess breast cancer would be one way to make me lie down and rest. And if that’s what you have for me. Right now. Then Ok, I’ll take it. And I’ll glorify you in it. Because you know very well that there have been other situations in my life where I have utterly and completely failed to glorify you.”
Week Two: He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters.
The biopsy was Wednesday Sept 18, and on Friday September 20th, I got a call from my doctor just before 2 PM. It was a beautiful day, finally a little cool out, so I was at the park with my three-year-old daughter, about to go pick up the older ones from school. You have Ductal Carnicoma in Situ, she said. Cancer. And she rushed into action, helping me schedule appointments and answering my immediate questions. Despite the early stage and non-invasive nature of this cancer, it was still cancer.
Over the next few weeks I waited a lot, met with different doctors, made decisions big and small, then waited some more…
Though the timing of this whole thing could have been better in my opinion, I was so thankful for the technology that allowed them to catch it early and I felt overwhelmingly positive, seeing the silver lining and even looking forward to some much needed rest and a break from my frenetic schedule.
Week three: He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
There’s a book I have been working on writing for many years. It’s called Believe: A memoir and a Manifesto. It’s the story of my journey through faith. How I became a Christian, and all the ways God has restored my soul, even when I failed to follow where he led.
With this diagnosis, God has given me a strength, a patience, a sense of calm and peace, that I want to shout out from the rooftops. I will be forced to lie down and rest, and I feel confident that God will restore my soul and lead me in the way He wants me to go.
Week 4: Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
To be honest, this isn’t the hardest valley I have walked through, and I know many of you are facing valleys that are much more heartbreaking than this one. Because of early detection and treatment, it is very unlikely that I will die from breast cancer. I most likely won’t even need chemotherapy or radiation after the surgery. David uses the words walk through because valleys have a beginning and an end. We don’t live there forever.
I decided to withdraw from my classes and take care of my health. I continued to work right up until last week, but I’m on a leave of absence now until the doctors clear me for heavy labor again. I’m at God’s mercy, not entirely sure how He will use this in my life, but knowing that He will use it.
In the valley, I make the Lord my strength. I hold onto my loved ones. And I sing. I look for the e door of hope. And more than that, I seek to become a door of hope to other people. I look for the gift in my grief.
Week 5: You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.
God is reminding me once again that he chose me. He protects me, and He calls me His own. What God wants to lavish on me is more than I have the capacity to hold. He wants to fill me with grace and peace and joy so that I overflow with love and hope.
Week 6: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
So tomorrow…the day after this beautiful study concludes…in God’s perfect timing, I will undergo a double mastectomy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. And I have learned that this surgery is just the beginning of much more lengthy and complicated reconstruction process than I first realized it would be. Beyond the immediate fears are all the peripheral things. Finances, nursing school, work. The medical part is covered by insurance, but how will we pay our bills? Will my husband be able to step up and take on that responsibility completely without my contributions?
I breathe in deeply and I feel at peace, knowing that God is with us, we are His, and that my husband doesn’t need to do it on his own.
I am forgiven and I am pursued by God’s goodness and lovingkindness, and I will live in His house forever. I cannot fix or control a single piece of this situation. So, I give it all to Him to take care of. I surrender all.
This is the melody I have been humming to myself these past several weeks: Randy Thompson’s 23rd Psalm
by Danielle Tantone | 6:07 am | Breast Cancer, Faith, Family & Relationships, Health & Wellness, Mindset, Mental Health & Entrepreneurship, Nursing, Night Shifts & School
Friends, I have some news. Some bad and some good. Most of it very good! You will think I’m strange in a second for saying that it’s mostly very good, but to me it is. The bad news is I have breast cancer and will undergo a bilateral mastectomy in a few months… But here’s all the good news:
- I have been considered very high risk for breast cancer due to several factors, and have been constantly monitored by mammogram, ultrasound, MRI and biopsy. I have had a few lumps that turned out to be benign, but still stressed me out and caused me to be on edge. After the bilateral mastectomy, I will no longer be considered high risk for breast cancer.
- My most recent mammogram showed new microcalcifications grouped together on the upper right quadrant of my right breast. I am so thankful for the technology that allowed my doctors to catch it at this early stage. I have High GradeStage 0 Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, the very mildest and earliest form of breast cancer. It’s contained within the milk ducts and non-invasive. I have known people who have died from breast cancer, but because of early detection, I most likely will not. Please, go get your mammograms! Wouldn’t you rather know there’s a problem and take care of it before it becomes grave and threatens your life?
- Although a lumpectomy combined with radiation is an option for me, I have opted for a double mastectomy instead, which precludes the need for chemotherapy or radiation. Some people may wonder why I would take the most drastic action rather than the most minimally invasive one. There are several reasons, and I’m sure I will elaborate on them as we move forward. For now, suffice it to say that I feel my breasts have served their purpose. They have breastfed my three children and given pleasure to my husband (and perhaps a few other people in their day, but this isn’t that kind of post…) They are heavy, with dense fibrous tissue that likes to hide cancers and other masses. They are 45 years old. Honestly, a new set of smaller, perkier boobs for my 45thbirthday doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I may even be able to wear things I have never been able to wear before! But mostly, this mitigates my risk and doesn’t require me to be exposed to harmful radiation and chemotherapy.
- I have a wonderful support system of family and friends, and a team of amazing doctors taking care of me.
- I have an amazing God who “makes me lie down in green pastures” and “leads me beside still waters.”
- Though this will delay my nursing school journey a bit, the forced rest will give me time to finish that book, get my blog going, help Mike with real estate stuff, work on projects around the house, spend time with my family, but mostly time to rest and reflect on what I want the next 45 years of my life to look like!
- I know that not everyone is as lucky as me. If you are experiencing something heavy and need a friend to talk to, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
Sending hugs and love and light to you all.
by Danielle Tantone | 4:52 am | Faith, Family & Relationships, People Stories
I learned of the death of Tom Shrader in the middle of Chemistry class yesterday. (Yes, I must have taken a peek at facebook on my phone during class. Tsk Tsk.)
Tom was a wonderful pastor and teacher to so many, a father to two amazing women whom I have called friends. I wasn’t close to Tom, hadn’t seen him in years. But my heart felt heavy all day, even as I dealt with the tasks of everyday life: work and worries, picking up kids, making dinner, tucking the kids into bed. I didn’t have time to process it or even talk about it other than a few Facebook posts and texts. Which is why I am now up in the middle of the night doing so.
It was right before Christmas in 2003. I was 29 years old and recently divorced. I had just met this boy on a bike ride. He was refreshing and sweet…but a born-again Christian. I was Jewish. My beliefs may have been fuzzy, but if there was one thing I did not believe in, it was Jesus Christ! And yet…I was so curious.
I pretty much invited myself to church with him. East Valley Bible Church in Gilbert. The pastor, Tom Shrader, was this middle-aged midwestern guy with longish gray hair. He spoke in a no-nonsense tone, and I remember him talking about Jesus in a way I had never heard him talked about. Previously I had believed that Jesus wasn’t “for me,” but Tom Shrader introduced me to the real Jesus and made him accessible. To me and everyone else. He taught me not to be “so open minded my brains fall out.” Jesus was either a liar, a lunatic, or Lord.
I heard Tom talk about how he had “been saved” and it made me curious. What exactly does it mean to be saved? And could it happen to me? Tom taught me the gospel, the good news that Jesus lived, that he died on the cross and that all I had to do was believe in him and follow him to have eternal life…not a perfect life, not by a long shot. We all had fallen short of the glory of God, but believing in Jesus covered us with his cloak of righteousness.
It was all such a strange and beautiful idea to me at the time. Who could believe this stuff was actually true – Like true, true and not just a fairy tale to be celebrated at Christmas? Ridiculous. And totally unnecessary for me anyway! I was already one of God’s chosen people. Jesus was just a good teacher, a rabbi, a Jew, I had been taught. He never set out to start a religion. Paul did that after he died. He certainly wasn’t God’s actual son any more than I was God’s actual daughter. He wasn’t actually born of a virgin. That’s impossible. He didn’t actually come back alive three days after being brutally put to death by crucifixion. That’s impossible. A Jew can’t believe in Jesus. That’s impossible…
And yet. I went to the library to check out some books on the subject and I ended up checking out a paperback version of The New Testament of the Bible. It had red lettering to show where Jesus was speaking, and a forward by Billy Graham. I read it in secret in my bedroom of the house I shared with my sister. You have to understand, this was blasphemous to be reading this. I might as well have been reading porn.
But I started in Matthew and read Jesus’ words: If you’ve even thought about a woman, you have committed adultery in your heart. Well, I was worse than that… I started feeling hopeless.
But as I kept attending church and hearing Tom’s teaching, I felt the hope of the gospel and that perhaps God actually did mean this for me. Maybe the mistakes I had made, the stupid things I had done, could be forgiven. Maybe Christianity actually was for me, even though I would never stop being Jewish. Tom taught right from the Bible and his teaching helped me make sense of its words. The Bible became alive and vivid for me, even the Old Testament Torah, in a way that it never had felt in Temple.
As we passed the communion plate in church, Tom would say something to the effect that if you were not a believer in Jesus Christ, then you could feel free to just pass the plate along. But you needed to know that in doing so, you were saying no to God’s provision and choosing to do it your own way. How well was that working out for you? He didn’t say that exactly, but his words were like a gentle punch in the gut to me.
On the Monday before Christmas, I was driving home from work on the I-10 freeway west of Phoenix, asking God if this Jesus stuff could really be for me. Could a little Jewish girl from Scottsdale become a Christian? How would I know? And how would I ever break the news to my mom? I was literally talking to God, asking him what I should do. I guess you would call it praying, although in Judaism prayer was a more formal affair.
I looked up out of my reverie and the license plate in front of me said, BLEEV!
Believe. That’s all. OK, I will. I do!
And I wish I could say that I lived happily ever after and rode off into the sunset, but that’s not true. My life of course, has taken many twists and turns since that moment, and thank God, my story is so far from over…
I know that I am just one of so many people whose life was forever changed by Tom Shrader. May he rest in peace, at home with Jesus.
