Taxi Drivers

The other day I was scrolling Instagram. My feed is filled with pandas, macaque monkeys, preemie giraffes, pygmy hippos and lots of cats and dogs, as well as wanderlust travel pics and inspirational quotes. One particular post, had me pause and read through the pages.

The hook read, “I’m a taxi driver. Picked up a woman. Hospital to apartment.” I had to read more. It continued talking about her appearance–weak, pale and clearly ill. Because of this the male driver probably felt compelled to help her inside. Her apartment was described as empty of things and of people. Before she collapsed she thanked him and told him she couldn’t pay him much, only half the fare. Affected by what he witnessed, he returned the next day with food and blankets. She asked why and he responded, “you need help.” The next page of the post talked about her cancer diagnosis–stage four–and no support with limited resources. The driver continued daily visits, food, supplies and drove her to appointments. Other drivers heard and offered rides. Someone drove her every time, brought meals and sat with her. She got better. Treatment worked. Remission. She called her tribe to let them know. “Taxi drivers saved my life. Gave me hope when I had none.” According to the post, she is five years cancer free and now volunteers at the cancer center. She helps people because the taxi drivers helped her.

Taxi drivers are the perfect metaphor. The mail role of a taxi driver is to get their patron to their destination safely. They know the route and can help maneuver around road blocks or obstacles and with great care. I think what stuck with me and why I had to write about it today, is the power of helpers that step in and literally save lives. Not necessarily with grandiose gifts, but with simple acts of kindness. Living the golden rule, “treat your neighbor as you’d want to be treated”. This is powerful and as the story highlights, saves lives.

Five years ago today, July 29, 2021, I walked out of the Radiology Department at New Mexico Cancer Center. I had completed my prescribed treatment plan of radiation. Unlike chemo plans, there was no bell to chime that represented the end of my treatment, instead I received a certificate, changed and went about my day. It was a grueling 6 weeks with daily treatments, to start my day, that included a bolus across my chest, unable to move, and sometimes being forced to listen to country (yes, my ears did bleed…metaphorically speaking). I got a new tattoo from the marking of my chest (This is a tattoo of the Earth as seen from a great, great distance). I had fun with fashion: wearing a different pair of shoes every day of my treatment (yes, 30 different pairs). And while I was lighthearted, it was difficult. I was so grateful that my skin didn’t break or blister, but it was red and inflamed. I really wanted to walk around topless everywhere, but that’s frowned upon. Because I am in a solo-economic relationship, I worked the entire time during treatment. I was exhausted by the end and for a few weeks after, yet I had enough energy to celebrate this milestone planned by my friends (thanks Kristen) the following night. It was a wonderful evening to feel alive and I looked hot (with my flaming red skin, and in my plunging neckline dress). I didn’t want to hide the burn. Again, because I wanted to wear as little clothes as possible, also because it was my badge of honor. I had made it to the next level of “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”. While this marked the end of this treatment, it was only part of my breast cancer journey.

Today is the day that I celebrate 5 years being “cancer free”. Seven months prior to my radiation therapy, I remember sitting around the table with these same friends sharing my concern about a lump, and as friends do, they all chimed in that it’s probably nothing to worry about. They surprised me after my biopsy showing up to my casita with dinner (thanks Denise). Going through any kind of health issue during the covid pandemic was no joke, yet my barrage of tests and mastectomy were completed within 6 weeks of diagnosis. Sometimes my people could join me for appointments, but I remember a specific appointment where Yvette took me to the appointment, and for an abundance of caution the cancer center prohibited guests from going into the facility. This was the appointment my oncologist, after telling me there was no need for chemo, backtracked and suggested I should do chemo. I started bawling. Surprised, she asked if I had a support system. I immediately responded that my support system had to wait for me in the car! Luckily, when went to UNM Cancer Center, for a chemo 2nd opinion, I was able to take Ang with me.

So many of you sent prayers, notes, flowers, care packages, food and just sat with me. When I wanted to run the wrong girl campaign, my friend Melanie from Achievement Gallery created the baseball tees and so many others lifted my spirits by joining me with their own tee to support others on their own journey. I even had friends, who said they’d never wear pink, wear it for me (Melissa and Joseph, never say never). If you’ve ever been to my casita then you’ve seen all these beautiful faces in a framed display. I can’t tell you how much this helped in my recovery and makes me smile every day after. I had just connected with Allison from Pink Warrior House on Facebook and she immediately brought me a care package. Later my friend Michael would match the funds I raised to support her organization. My friends from all over the country sent prayers, care packages and funny t-shirts (cancer touched by boob and I kicked its ass–thanks Sal). My kids were (and are) incredible even though I knew my diagnosis was difficult on them. When it was time to for reconstruction two years later, y’all showed up again. The day before when the hospital was going to deny my surgery, Serena contacted the CFO. A few of you even braved the ICU to see me connected to sooooo many machines.

My motto is la vita e un dono. Life is a gift, but I believe this life event was also a gift. While I would live a happy life to not have to go into another surgery, or do labs (I really hate needles) this journey has solidified my belief to live life to the fullest, to live with intention and purpose, and do all the things, since tomorrow is not promised. When I think these thoughts, I am reminded of the the lyrics of Live Like You Were Dying by Tim McGraw (okay for those of you who know me know I don’t like country music…reread two paragraphs up. LOL! However I respect the message of song). I don’t know if the cancer will ever return; nothing in life is promised, but I will continue to live, love and laugh in that manner.

Through all this time, I never saw pity in your eyes, only encouragement and love…and that is not only healing, but also empowering. What I am saying and I don’t know if I have the right words, but I am going to try…I would not be here today if it wasn’t for you! Every day, I say a little prayer of gratitude for you. If I don’t say it enough, thank YOU. I know you all had so much happening in your own lives and still showed up. I wish I could throw a big party to celebrate you and maybe someday I will. Thank YOU for giving me a reason to smile; you are my taxi drivers!

With light and love, XOXO,
Dara Sophia Romero
(and don’t forget to get those mammograms)