My Breast cancer journey
My husband told me often that I am just adding to my story. I told him that I am done adding to my story. I have been through enough. But, God had other plans for me....
On February 11th, I hit my three year goal. With Triple Negative breast cancer, recurrence happens normally within the first two to three years after initial diagnosis. I want to say that I jumped up and down and partied all night long the minute that I hit three years, but I didn't. Truth be told, life will never be the same. I was talking to a friend last night about how our normal will never be normal again. Don't get me wrong. I was elated that I hit such a huge point in my journey and pray that there are many more years to come of proclaiming that I am CANCER FREE. But, the new normal is tiring....worrisome....taxing....and at times, just plain sucks. In December of 2016, I went in for my first MRI. I had been having routine mammograms and ultrasounds every six months, but the radiologist wanted me to start doing contrast MRIs instead because they can see deeper into the breast tissue. I had heard stories of friends who could not handle the enclosed space of the machine and had tried to pep myself up so that I wasn't one to join the several who had to have the machine stopped due to a panic attack. But.... more so....I was worried about what they were going to find. I so wanted to hear, "You are all clear!" But....I didn't. That was the scan where they found a spot on my right breast. My heart shattered, sunk, flipped, and was crushed. I was so disappointed in my body. All of my life, I have dealt with one thing after another with my health and now was the time to catch a break. But....again....I didn't. I was asked to come in for an ultrasound so that they could look further and try to see what this was. I had to wait a few days to get in. The suspense was killing me! I went in with my husband in tow and had my scan done. Guess what??? They couldn't find the spot!! I will admit....I cried. They decided to keep an eye on the area through future MRI scans to see what happens. Six months later, I had a new scan done AND there it was again. This time....bigger. My radiologist immediately sent me to get a mammogram, pretty robe and all. No spot seen...... So, he sent me straight into an ultrasound to see if they could find it that way. Nothing detected.... So, since this was the second time the spot had been detected by MRI, he wanted me to come in for an MRI guided biopsy. The very next morning, they squeezed me in and completed the biopsy. He even showed me pictures of the biopsy site so that I was assured that he had hit the right spot. And then.....we had to wait......Here we were in the realm of the unknown again. It is one of the hardest places to be. I went home scared and empty. I was distant....thinking....worrying....praying....I honestly was making plans as to what to do if this did come back as another cancerous mass. I was so close at that point to calling my doctors and scheduling a full mastectomy. What would I do? How would this affect EVERYTHING? Not again..... To get my mind off of things, the next evening, a group of us went to get our nails done. As I was sitting in the chair with my feet in the tub and aluminum foil on my nails....lol...my phone rang. It was my radiologist. The first words that I heard from him were, "Take a deep breath. It is NOT cancer." The entire place knew at that point that I did not have cancer. lol I breathed a deep breath and was able to laugh and smile again. It turned out to be a benign condition that hardens my milk ducts. Unfortunately, it will probably always show up so I won't ever get my all clear. But..... I said all of that to say this...living with cancer is not easy and it completely changes everything about how you live your life. But, what you do with it, is your choice. You can hide away and live in fear every minute of every day or you can choose to take the upper hand and take charge of your life as a cancer SURVIVOR. One of my absolute favorite authors, Patricia Polacco, wrote a book called The Lemonade Club. This book knocked my socks off the first time I read it. It was right after my diagnosis and I had blindly pulled the book out of the Polacco stash in our school library. I was reading it to my students and did not realize that this book is about a child and a teacher who both receive a cancer diagnosis. The central message of the story is the take the sour lemons that life has given you and to make wonderful, sweet lemonade out of them. That is what I choose to do. Monday, March 26th, 2018 marks my 43rd birthday and year #3 since I began chemotherapy treatments. I will continue turning my lemons into lemonade and pushing myself to rise above my new normal. :)
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This is the face of an angel. A year and a half ago as I was going through chemotherapy we were able to get away for a few days and come down to our timeshare in Orlando so that I could get out of the house for a little bit. We decided to run through the Chick-fil-a drive thru to grab dinner before settling in for the evening. Riley just happened to be standing in the drive thru line taking orders as we went through. I was in the passenger side, bald head and all and not feeling too good. I noticed that as soon as we had placed our order with her, she turned and disappeared into the building but I didn't think anything of it. When we got up to the window, Dwayne tried to hand the employee his card to pay but we were told that our food had been taken care of. After some prodding, we were told that Riley had paid for our dinner. When we got back to our place, my husband and I talked and decided to call Chick-fil-a to thank her and to tell her manager about her amazing act of kindness so that he knew what a jewel that he had. Dwayne placed the call and had them put her on the line and then he handed the phone to me. I asked her if this was something that she did periodically and she proceeded to tell me, "No. I felt like God spoke to me and told me that I needed to pay for your meal. So, I did." I was so overwhelmed. I had been trying so hard to be the encourager and inspiration to all of those watching me fight my battle and I was utterly exhausted. I immediately began sobbing on the phone and told her my story. I thanked her for being a blessing to me that evening and that it was exactly what I needed. I knew God had placed her in that position at that exact moment to remind me that He was watching and that He was in control. A gentle reminder through an amazing act of kindness. She told me that she would be praying for me as I fight my battle.
Fast forward to today....We have been in there many times since then but I could never find her. I knew that she still worked there last time we went but she wasn't working that day. Today, as I was walking out, I noticed her sitting at a table during her lunch break. I walked past her, quietly debating in my head whether or not I should say anything, arguing with myself that she wouldn't remember me. When we got to the car, I mentioned to Dwayne and my in-laws that that was the girl. Dwayne immediately told me to get out of the car and to go talk to her. So...I did. As I revealed who I was, her face lit up. She even said that she remembered me calling her after we had left to thank her and I confirmed it. Her immediate response was that it was all God. Again, I thanked her profusely for turning the tables on me that day and for providing me with a much needed blessing. The thing that struck me the most about our conversation was that she told me that she has been praying for me since that day. She said that anytime I came to mind, she prayed. She then asked me if she could hug me. Of course I told her yes and we got this picture together. It is amazing how God works. He used this sweet angel to bless me at a time of greatest need. Today was a reminder that when God speaks to your heart to do something for someone, do it. You never know what they are dealing with and how a simple act of kindness can touch someone just as much as she touched me. As the six month mark approaches, my anxiety builds as I await my next scan. What will they see? What will they find? Is it back? I have heard that it comes back with a vengence. What will I do if they find something? Where will they find it? It is almost like a movie on a constant loop in my brain and I can't shut it off. Two weeks ago yesterday was D-Day and this time I had to undergo a new type of scan, the MRI with contrast. All I have had in the past are mammograms and ultrasounds. Weeks before my appointment, the movie in my brain began to play and the knots in my stomach began to form. Do you ever have moments when you have a gut feeling that things aren't going to go as smoothly as you hope for? I had that feeling deep, down in my gut and in the far corners of my mind. I had a funny feeling that I wouldn't be hearing the all clear proclamation at this scan. I was trying to convince myself that it was my mind playing tricks on me. Lord knows, it likes to do that quite often, using the vice of fear and anxiety. I had heard horror stories of the dreaded, closed MRI machine. I am very claustrophobic and had anxiety about being in an enclosed space on top of the anxiety of finding a recurrence of my cancer. I knew that this type of scan can see more than the typical mammogram and ultrasound. I was worrying myself sick.
not even minutes later. But, this stuck with me. I couldn't shake it. And, it was in this that I knew it was from Him. Oh, the ways that He held me, encouraged me, carried me through every part of this journey. It was simply amazing. The love of Christ was truly exhibited in abundance as I lived out some of the darkest days of my life. And that is what gave me the courage and strength to push through the depression, pain, and exhaustion of the battle. Knowing and wholeheartedly believing this promise that was given to me, you would think that I would be confident in knowing that I am going to be just fine. But, I struggle. I struggle HUGE. As I was preparing for this MRI scan, an internal battle was going on in my inner being. I felt so guilty for being scared. I feared that I was totally doubting everything that God had promised me. And more than that, I was afraid that the doubt in my mind would make Him recant on His promises. But, I know that that is not how my God works. Over and over, I have heard how God is a man of His word. He doesn't waiver. He is a God of fulfillment. So, why do I let myself doubt Him. And then it hit me. I am human. It is as simple as that. I am human and HE KNOWS THAT. Just like an earthly father, He is there to pick up the pieces of our earthly fears and to hold and comfort us when our human minds have driven us into a land of.....humanness. A friend said it in such a beautiful way as I was sharing these exact thoughts with her the other day. She said that we are not doubting God's promises. We are reacting to our human fears and anxieties and that is when we need to call on Him to help rid ourselves of our human nature. THAT IS WHAT HE IS THERE FOR! That is His purpose. He KNOWS that we are scared. He knows that fear drives us in situations such as these. But, it is only through Him that we can find total and complete peace. And, I found that....by praying. I prayed hard for Him to take this from me, to calm my anxieties of recurrence and claustrophobia. And, that is exactly what He did. As I went in for my scan, I was fairly calm. They laid me belly down in the machine and placed my arms so that I couldn't feel the machine around me. They had a mirror that was pointed straight at the windows leading outside so it looked as if I was simply looking out the window. Not once did my claustrophobia arise. I was relaxed and never knew how close I really was to the walls around me. When I came out, the technician told me that I could talk to the radiologist if I wanted to wait. Of course I said yes. I needed answers right then or else the anxiety would begin to build again. The doctor took me into his office and I was surrounded by screens that showed all of my past scans as well as my new ones. I could tell that he had been studying and comparing my breast images. He sat me down and began to talk through my new scans. He started with my left, treated breast and showed me that it was perfectly clear and showed no signs of recurrence. Then, I heard the words, "On the other hand...." He went over to the right breast and began to show me an area that the contrast had "enhanced" on my scan. The only word that I really injested was "abnormal". And, there went the little voice in my head. It was screaming, "I told you so...." He went on to explain that he did not see a mass of any kind but went through a list of possible causes, one being In Situ breast cancer. This is the beginning stages of a new cancer. Other causes could range anywhere from hormonal changes to inflammation. He requested that I come in the following week for an ultrasound and a possible biopsy. ANNNND...the mind tricks began.......again. Throughout the week, various scenarios played out in my head, one being, cut them off and be done with it. I began to get angry again that I would have to deal with this throughout my entire life. I had already began discussing with my husband that if this was a new cancer, I would immediately ask for a bilateral mastectomy. He was so supportive and told me that he loves me for me and if this is what is going to give me peace, then do it. I had my mind made up. I knew that this is what would be the next step if I had a new cancer diagnosis. The following week, my husband and I went together to follow up with an ultrasound. We had been taken back to one of their 3,000 waiting rooms to wait for the technician to take me back when my husband made eye contact with me and I was done playing strong. He grabbed ahold of my head and pulled me close and I fought back the inner demon of the ugly cry. We sat there for quite a while and I worked to calm myself down. As I was sitting there, I noticed a copy of the HealthScope magazine sitting on the table across the waiting room. I opened it up to find my story of survival printed in the magazine and began thinking how ironic it was that I was sitting there possibly facing a new journey....that I didn't want to be any part of.
You never know how you are going to handle a cancer diagnosis. It isn't like you sit and ponder over the theory that YOU could be a victim of its demise. It hit me out of left field and totally rocked my world. I sit here now and look back over the experience and think, "How could it already be a full year since I finished chemo?" I can't believe that it has been that long already. I wish that I could say that it is all peaches and cream and everything is great. But, there is so much that goes into a major medical diagnosis like cancer. Honestly, I am not sure that I will ever be the same.
My husband was laughing at me this evening due to a comment that I had made suggesting that someone may need to find a new job because they couldn't get our order right in the drive thru. (Hahaha....I didn't get my nap today.) From there, I quickly (not so proudly) admitted to the fact that I am quicker to become agitated and am definitely more grumpy since having to go through my breast cancer journey. He asked me if it broke my filter. Hahaha.....Well......Kinda......Sorta.......It actually broke ME as a whole, everything within my being. I have never been quick to anger or quick to cry. I am a very laid back person who HATES confrontation. But now I think that I have been forced to realize that life is precious. It can be taken from you at an instant and it can completely change in the blink of an eye. I now realize that I have to stand up for me, for my beliefs, for my passions, for my feelings. If you even look at me with a slight cross eye, I will cry. Worry has become my best friend. Every pain, every ache, every lump or bump.... I have shut the door and locked in many times in an effort to break up with it. I think that is where some of the agitation comes from. I don't want to be a slave to worry and fear. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have been promised complete healing and that I have a MAJOR work to do to share my story. And that is what I am going to do.... My oncologist told me that people respond in one of two ways....either they close themselves up into a mindset of avoidance and desolation or they get the tattoo and wear their struggle proudly. So....I choose.... the tattoo.... I have never been afraid to hit life head on and to fight for what I believe in and it is no different here. I have the scars, the pains, the side effects to prove it. I choose to rid myself of the worry and fear that sometimes clutches with all of its might and drives me insane. The fear that I was warned will come....and go....and come again.....God has already begun opening the doors to help me spread my testimony to all ends of the earth. I am geared up, ready to march, ready to share, speak, encourage, love.....I WANT TO USE MY STORY....to help others who have fallen victim to this dreadful disease. I want them to look at me and see a story of hope and future. I want to make a difference in not one, but many..... Let's get this party started!!! I have heard the phrase, "I am a survivor." many times throughout my life but never really thought much of it's true meaning until I had to fight a battle of my own. For some, being a survivor means that they have fought for everything that they own in order to live a productive life. For others, it may mean that they are still here after enduring an abusive relationship or childhood, that they made it through an illness that was quite intense, or that they are simply here....surviving in a society of great divide and anguish. For me, it means that I have fought all of my life to be where I am today, one step at a time.
I....AM....A....SURVIVOR. When I was barely of the age to remember it all, my parents divorced. I remember the day that my dad moved out. I was angry but really didn't realize it at that moment. I have a picture of myself riding my tricycle and the look on my face was pure disheartenment. I didn't realize that the picture was taken during the time that this was all going on until one day when my dad and I were chatting and he told me about when and why he took the picture. For years after that I traveled back and forth between my parents and was the product of a split home. But you know what? I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that both of my parents loved me beyond expression. They tried to make sure that I knew that and did everything possible to make sure that I didn't want for anything. As a teacher, I see so many kids who come from split homes. This past year I was in awe of the number of students that I had who came from a home with absent parents, parents who were in and out of jail, or parents that were neglectful. It broke my heart. I remember sharing with one of them one day that my parents divorced too when I was very young. But, as I did, I realized that I am blessed beyond measure. I never went without either one of them. And you know what? I survived. I....AM....A....SURVIVOR. When I was around seven years old, both of my parents remarried, each marrying totally amazing people whom I adore. When I was twelve, my step father got a new job many miles away from the home that I had known for many years and we moved. Right before we moved, the doctors discovered that I had severe curvature of my spine and a plan of action was put into place. Not long after we had moved to Virginia, my chiropractor told us that there was nothing more that he could do and he referred me to Johns Hopkins University to a surgeon. On August 10, 1988, when I was thirteen years old, I underwent major back surgery. They inserted a rod into my back and fused several of my vertebrae together to help correct my curvature. I spent most of my middle school years in a brace. Today, I have a lot of pain that I deal with due to the rod and my scoliosis. I have been told by more than one doctor that I would and should be at least using a walker or cane if not a wheelchair by now. But I am not.... I....AM....A....SURVIVOR. Fast forward to November 2014...I found a lump in my breast during a routine self-check. I had just been to my OB-GYN for my annual exam and he did not feel the lump. Since he did not feel it, I figured that it was nothing and passed it off as my crazy imagination. By the end of December, it had grown in size and I knew that I had to say something and have it checked out. I sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office with a rock in the pit of stomach, about to throw up from my nerves. I didn't want to say anything. But, I knew that I had to...for the sake of me and my family. On February 11th, 2015, I was given news that completely rocked our world. I had breast cancer. Not only that, but it was Stage II, Triple Negative, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. I had been researching the different types of breast cancer and was praying that I didn't hear the words Triple Negative. It is fast growing and more aggressive. Annndddd....I heard those words. Was I going to be survivor this time? What was going to happen? What would all of these treatments do to my body? What kind of damage will I endure? Will it kill the cancer? Guess what??? I fought through three surgeries. I fought through the exhaustion, sickness, and torrent of sixteen chemotherapy treatments. I fought through the emotional stress, itching, and pain of thirty-three radiation treatments. I still fight through a LOT of anguish and worry. BUT, I am STILL a survivor. There are so many times that I compare my cancer story to others and my mind races. My diagnosis/prognosis expands and my anxiety heightens. Every time that I read or hear the word "recurrence", my heart races and I just want to cry all over again. But....I am survivor. I have survived so many instances in my life. Why not this one too? As I was watching television this evening, a commercial came on and I heard one of the hosts boldly state, "I AM A SURVIVOR." My heart jumped and I knew that I want to be that bold too. And I have made up my mind that I will boldly state that I too am a survivor. Are you a survivor? I bet you are. Don't give up on life. Don't throw in the towel before you have fought the fight. Boldly stand up and proclaim that YOU are a survivor too! This afternoon I went to my massage therapist for a glorious massage. She asked me what the date was that my journey started and it triggered my mind to today's date. I had almost pushed it so far back into my mind that it was nearly unreachable. I have moved on. I don't want to reflect. But...I must...
Today marks one year, almost to the minute, since I heard the words, "It is cancer." I remember that day, that week, that month, oh so well. On February 5th, 2015, I had a lumpectomy to remove the 2.5 cm mass that was wreaking havoc on my emotions, psyche, and family. I was told that it was more than likely a Fibroadenoma cyst. A biopsy has been done and no cancer was detected. I had decided to move forward and accept the news that all was well. As a precaution, the surgeon had the mass sent to pathology and told me that it would be only a few days before the results would be in. So, I waited...and waited...I finally got the nerve up on the following Friday to call and see if they knew anything. The nurse told me that nothing had come in yet. So, I tried again on Monday after hearing nothing all day. When I called, she told me that it wasn't in, but she knew that I was anxious so she called pathology to see what the holdup was.... And, the phone finally rang... I had just taken my students to the bus and was in my classroom alone when I heard the words, "Where are you right now? Do you want me to tell you the results over the phone?" I knew right then that it wasn't good. I told her that I was at work and that I was by myself in my classroom. I asked her to please share the results with me. She said, "They aren't completely finished testing everything yet, but they are pretty certain that it IS cancer." The breath inside of me halted and my head began to spin. I didn't know what to do. I told her thank you and then hung up. I remember dialing my husband's phone at his work and when he answered, I lost it. All he could do was listen to me sob and say the words, "It is cancer." He instructed me to come straight home and that he would meet me there. So, I did. As soon as I walked through the front door, he was standing at the top of the stairs ready for me. He grabbed ahold of me and we both began the mourning process. I remember sobbing so hard, harder than I ever remember myself crying. He grabbed my face and continually told me that we were going to fight this. We are going to fight this, baby. We will do whatever it takes..... Not long after, we called my kids to the living room and my husband told them. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything. As soon as he told them, my son looked at my husband with tears in his eyes and asked, "Is this going to kill mommy?" Through many tears, Dwayne reinforced those words, "We are going to fight this. We will do whatever it takes to make sure mommy will be fine." We all cried together.... I still held out hope over the next two days that pathology would change their minds after further testing. I pushed through the discouragement and sheer emotions and went to work to help keep my mind off of everything. I shared the news with my colleagues but chose not to tell my students. Nobody really knew what to say or do. I didn't either. On February 11th, my husband and I walked into the doctor's office hoping that our world would be put back together. But it wasn't. He not only told me that it was cancer but he also told me that it was Triple Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Stage II. We went ahead and scheduled my Sentinel Lymph Node Biopsy, which would determine if the cancer had spread, for the following week. Honestly, that was one of the darkest weeks of this entire journey. I had just found out that I had cancer, and Triple Negative at that. And, I had to wait for another week to find out if it had spread. I could barely function. I remember going to work on that Friday and trying to put on a happy face for my students' Valentines Day party. I was miserable. That day, one of my parents noticed something wasn't right and she confronted me to find out if I was ok. I shared the news with her and continued to just exist.....and that is all I did....exist. Many times I had to stop and grab ahold of something because my head continued to spin from relentless anxiety, which I had already deemed to be metastasis to the brain (Who can blame me?? lol). I was but wasn't looking forward to the following week when I would have surgery #2 to find out the results of my lymph node biopsy. I asked myself many times, "What am I scared of?" There was a long list of answers. Death... Leaving my daughter way too early... Missing out on my son's life... Leaving my husband a widow... The side effects of treatment... Leaving my parents here without me... And most of all...I was scared to death of the UNKNOWN. I had no idea what was going to happen and I had no control over it. That is absolutely the worst feeling ever... Now, as I look back, I see the entire picture. I made it. I did it. I am now on the other side of the mountain. I am not completely off of the mountain. I won't ever be, but I am proud of myself for pushing on, pushing through, and just simply making it. We are on the other side, baby!! We did it! For the past few weeks, I have been asking God for guidance on what to blog about next. I was hearing nothing. It was like hearing a pin drop or crickets chirp and I was getting impatient because I want to write. I want to share so much that I have rolling around in my brain, but nothing was coming to me that felt solid. As I was driving home yesterday, it finally started to come to me. And, of course, it was in His perfect timing because it goes right along with what I have had to endure this past week.
As I was driving and thinking, the word "SURRENDER" kept coming to my mind and the question, How do we surrender in times of extreme fear? To many of us, this seems like a huge impossibility. To many of us, this is a sign of weakness or giving up. To me, it means that I have to take off my face of strength and show my vulnerability. Why do I have to do this? Why is this happening to me? I don't want to show my struggles. I DON"T WANNA! I want to show that I am "Fighting like a girl!" But it is not about what I don't want to do. It is going to all happen anyways. This question kept coming to me in my own time of major anxiety, tense shoulders, back, neck, anxiety pressure in my head, crying at the drop of a hat, irritable over nothing. Last week, I finally had to give in to my anxiety and go on medication to help me overcome the build up of questions, fears, what ifs....I was so dead set on doing all of this with my own strong self and, of course, with God's help. But, doing it on my own did not work. I had a friend encourage me saying, "This is not a sign of weakness. It is NORMAL after everything you have been through." Normal.....what is normal now? To me, it involves everything that causes fear and anxiety, a lifetime of what ifs. This is not the first time that the word SURRENDER has rattled my brain. I have posted already about the period of the unknown that a cancer survivor has to endure during the time of diagnosis. It is crippling and absolutely terrifying. I was miserable. All I knew was that I had heard the "C" word. Would I have to surrender to the "D" word, death? Had is spread? Am I going to lose my womanhood? How would my family respond? My daughter? How would she survive without her mother? (That one still brings me to my knees.) My first point of surrender was to surrender this season of my life to God. I had to trust that He had a plan for me and that He would take care of me. Honestly, this has been the easier part for me because I have a story. Within that story, He has shown me over and over again that He is here with me and is hearing my cries. I have put every bit of my faith into the promises God has given me for complete healing. Does fear still creep in? YES! We are human. As a matter of fact, it creeps in daily. This week was horrible and that is when the word SURRENDER began to creep into my mind. As we were sitting in the waiting room for my mammogram this past Monday, I was so scared. My husband grabbed ahold of me and let me cry. I told him that I felt like when I gave in to this fear and anxiety that I was telling God that I didn't have faith in his promises to me. It was hurting my heart so much that I couldn't bear it. My husband quickly reminded me that even Jesus had great, unrelenting fear. When He knew His crucifixion was drawing near, He begged God to spare Him. He screamed. He yelled. He begged. His anxiety and stress was so intense that He began to cry and sweat blood. He couldn't handle the pressure of knowing He was going to die. Fear is a normal element of our human makeup. It is ok to fear something. It is not ok to let it affect your everyday life and not live. When he began to quote this scripture, the light bulb came on and I realized that even though my fear is great, that doesn't mean that my faith in God has wavered because I know beyond shadow of a doubt that it has not. Surrender...Surrender...Surrender My second point of surrender was to surrender to the knowledge and skill my doctors. So many questions run through everyone's mind when we can't see the future, but when there is a cancer diagnosis, the questions come tenfold. Finding a balance between my questions, my thoughts, and my doctor's answers has been extremely difficult. I have had to talk myself off of the cliff many times. I will be honest in saying that surrendering to my doctors has not completely happened. Will it ever? I don't know. I will say that I have been blessed with a wonderful surgeon who is a Godly man and two absolutely amazing oncologists who are extremely encouraging and nurturing. Last January when I went into the diagnostics center for my mammogram, I came out with a fear beyond anything I had ever felt. The doctor that read my mammogram and ultrasound was cold and did not console me in any way after telling me that he saw what he thought could be cancer. He gave me this news and then just walked out of the room. This past week I had to face him again. I tried to push out the fear and emotions and ignore the anxieties that I knew were building. It seemed to me that all of the work that I have done to put all of my trust in my doctors was unraveled and I lost it. I cried before, during, and after my appointment. It took me hours to calm down. Even after being told that I was clear and everything was fine, in my mind, I still question: Do I believe him? Did he look close enough? Was he in too much of a hurry? Did he miss something? Why can't I totally trust him? Will this ever go away? I became angry after the technician left the room and I sobbed in anger of having to live my life like this. I am still working on this one.... Surrender....Surrender...Surrender My third point of surrender was to surrender to myself. By this, I mean my body and at times, my mind. Wow, this one is tough. How do I surrender in times of my greatest fears? I am most own worst enemy. Word of advice: Don't Google ANYTHING that has to do with your diagnosis! During my first four treatments, I really had a struggle with this. I had no energy. The chemo stripped me of everything, breath, energy, sleep, time with my kids, time with my husband, happiness, laughter....I wanted all of that back so bad. My husband knew when I needed to lie down and rest. I did too, but I wanted so much to be a part of everything that my normal life consisted of. I remember finally giving in and staying home during my daughter's volleyball tournaments and then during my son's baseball tournaments. This point of surrender brought sadness and tons of examination. Examination of everything...But, it was also my time to BE STILL. Time to rest and heal. Time to read, pray, and pray some more. This was when I learned the most about myself and about God's love, from Him and through others. I have learned to cherish and hold tight to this surrender and this is something that I still try to put into practice as I continue to heal. Surrendering is a big verb! Surrendering is one of the most difficult things to do in times of the unknown. It is excruciatingly painful to put ourselves out there for all to see, struggles and all. I encourage you to try. Try with all of your might. I promise you will open up a realm of yourself that you never knew existed and you will see yourself in a light of pure rawness. This is when the learning begins. Last night as I was sitting with friends waiting on midnight to arrive, I was thinking about what all this past year has brought me. From day one of the new year, it brought me tons of heartache, anxiety, and fear. In the beginning, I did not know how this year would unfold. Many questions filled my head as the struggle became reality. What was going to happen? What would I have to endure to make sure that I would survive a cancer diagnosis? How are my kids going to deal with this? How is my husband going to be strong enough to carry me through this? My daughter...my daughter...my daughter???? I want to see her grow up. I want to see her graduate, help her get through college, get married....I love both of my children to the moon and back, but for some reason, she was my worry. We are very close and I could not imagine the heartache it would cause her to lose her mother. She needs me. She needs her mother to help her through all of these walks of life. And, to think of the possibility of passing this horrible disease on to her... and then there was the ultimate question....Did it spread to other parts of my body and am I going to die? To be honest with you, I don't think that there is ever going to be a day that goes by that this question will not rise up and rear its ugly head.
Cried to God. You name it. I did it. I found myself falling, falling, falling. But I knew that I couldn't let myself hit rock bottom. That is not me. I am strong. I would not fall to weakness. I refused. So, I began thanking God. Thanking Him for being my Healer, for being my Father, and for carrying me through my journey. I completely handed my body and soul over to Him and TRUSTED that He would provide for me. I prayed for healing, strength, guidance, and renewed health every single day, several times a day. I found that when I took the time to BE STILL and listen, He began to speak to me, comfort me, and reveal to me how to deal with my struggles. One day as I was driving to work, I was feeling defeated. I began to pray and it felt as if someone was behind me, wrapping their arms around me in comfort. I was taken aback and just savored in the moment. There were many instances like these along with the promise of FREE, CLEAR, GONE. This promise is what I continue to hold on to as I move forward in 2016. 3. God's love is unfathomably spectacular! To me it was not shown only through Him, but also through friends, family and complete strangers. I am so blessed to have such a huge support system. I have received cards, words of encouragement, gifts of remembrance, and best of all, prayers upon prayers. I have felt so unworthy, but yet I have seen God's love grow and grow into something beautiful and fulfilling. Many times throughout the past year, I have felt alone and abandoned, not because I really was, but because I was stuck at home and in my bed where I did not want to be. It took me a while to let go and let people help me and do for me. I have always been so independent. It was hard for me to let someone else carrying my burdens. I have story after story of ways God used these people to remind me that He is by my side, helping me through this. One day I received a message from an old friend that I haven't seen in years. She was praying for me and was urged to remind me of when God healed my womb so that I could have my babies (which is another part of "My Story" that I will share later on.). He informed me (through her) that He healed me then and He WILL do it again. I didn't think anyone besides me, my husband, and our dear friends that prayed for us that night even remembered that. But, I was wrong. Wow!! Just wow!! My constant question is, "How do I deserve such gracious, wondrous love?" 4. Don't take anything for granted, most of all, family, friends, good health, and every day that you are given to live. Any of these things can be taken from you at an instant. It is so easy to get wrapped up in daily living and the woes of life that we forget to savor and cherish what we do have. Don't get caught up in the drama life brings, but take ONE DAY AT A TIME and live it to the fullest with those who love you and care about you. Let go of the negative and embrace the positive. Negativity can bring down everything about you and cause you to miss out on what is really important. 2015 has been a year that I will never forget. I can't say that I would do it all over again, because that is so not true, but I will say that there hasn't been an experience that even begins to compare. I will take what I was given and will continue to draw from it as a learning experience. I now ready to take ahold of 2016 and embrace a new year of renewed health, healing, and positive memories! **I want to share this video with you of when I sang at the Good Friday service at my church. It was the week after my first chemo treatment and the last service that I was able to attend for several weeks because of my weakness. As I was sitting and writing this blog post, I flipped over to watch a video of my son that my husband posted this morning. This video happened to pop up that he had shared nine months ago as I began my journey with chemo treatments. I sat and listened to it again and could not help but to let the tears fall. I remember this night so well. It was at one of my lowest points. I didn't even have the energy to stand up much less sing. But, I did it anyways because I wanted to be a part of such a wonderful serene moment in remembering how Jesus died on the cross for us. As I was singing that night, I was overcome by the thought of how wondrous His love really is and I began to sob from my inner core. I have never felt anything like it. It was such an intense moment of pain and mourning yet proclamation. In my times of low, He has taught me how wondrous His love is and how to "sing on....", no matter what.
*** Warning*** This is not a pity post but it is a true look into the mourning process of a cancer survivor. It is a compilation of my thoughts after reading books and hearing from friends who are fighting similar journeys. :) My doctor told me a few months ago that the months following treatments are extremely difficult when it comes to fear, anxiety, and emotions in general. I find that when I get alone and have time to think, that is when it begins to consume me. Most of the time my life runs at ninety to nothing and I don't have time to dwell on what is really going on in my body so I guess that is a good thing. This morning as I was soaking in a relaxing bath, I began thinking about the mourning process of a cancer survivor. Several months ago, a fellow friend, who is also going through a similar breast cancer journey, shared with me how she struggles with the mourning process of different elements of life before diagnosis, hair, health, body. Just as we mourn the loss of a loved one, we also mourn the loss of our identity. It is almost as if we have lost ourselves and don't know if we will ever regain or even see a glimpse of how we used to be. The identity that we have known for 40 plus years has been permanently disrupted and hacked to bits, literally. When I speak of identity, I don't only mean our personalities and who we are as a person, but also our physical selves. Yes, a cancer diagnosis changes who we are and how we grasp ahold of life, but it also opens up an unwanted chapter of loneliness, fear, anxiety, and a negative physical perception of ourselves that is extremely tough to conquer. I am not at the conquering part yet. I honestly think that it will take years for that to happen. When I was told that I had cancer, it rocked my world. Every thought imaginable came and went. One of the biggest struggles that I had to deal with was getting past the thought of losing my hair and the possibility of losing my breasts. My surgeon and my oncologist are huge proponents of conservative breast treatments IF the cancer is caught early, stage one and two, and IF there are no genetic mutations linked to the cancer. Mine was stage two, but I was told that if my genetic testing came back positive that I would have a complete mastectomy and possibly a hysterectomy. I did not want to lose either and struggled for quite a while with the thoughts of losing my identity as a woman as I waited for over a month for test results. The phone call finally came saying, "There were NO genetic mutations found...congratulations.... " I cried. I was very happy to hear the news. But, honestly, I have struggled quite often with knowing whether or not conservative therapy was right for me. I have asked LOTS of questions in order to get reassurance from my doctors and they have provided every statistic possible. But in the scope of things....part of my identity was taken from me from the very beginning. Number one being my good health. I can no longer say that I have no worries. I will never be able to. I always have to be on the lookout for new "lumps and bumps". And then, there are the scars. I had three surgeries, leaving three scars across my chest. There is an indentation and a few creases in my breast from the removal of so much tissue. Do I feel beautiful? No. I don't. I can't even begin to imagine losing my entire breast. I admire those who have had to take that route. And then there is my hair....another friend of mine was talking to me yesterday morning. She is also going through extensive chemotherapy for a different kind of cancer and was talking about how hers has turned white from the chemo, but she has not lost any of it. She was joking about being vain because she covers up the white with color. But again, it is not vanity. Different forms of treatment, different outcomes, but we are both mourning what we have lost in ourselves and are trying to grasp it back however possible. I had to gear myself up for the loss of my hair. My hair has always been something that has somewhat defined me as my crazy self. I have always been a sort of shy person, but loved playing around with different hairstyles and colors because it helped bring out that minuscule part of me that yearned to be wild and rebellious. I was devastated at the news that I was going to have to take chemotherapy and was sick to my stomach at the thought of going bald. Aside from my breasts, my hair was such an integral part of my identity as a woman. After my first treatment they told me that it would be around two weeks before my hair would start falling out. My worst nightmare was to find handfuls of hair on my pillow or dropping at my feet in the shower. Because of this, I had my sister-in-law cut my hair into a short pixie cut just about a week or so before I knew it would be coming out. This is when I finally let go... I pep talked myself into holding my head high and owning it. I knew that if I didn't own it, I wouldn't want to leave my house and I would be miserable. Almost to the day, my hair started shedding as I was getting ready for my second treatment. That evening my husband looked at me as I argued as to why I shouldn't shave
My point in all of this is not to whine and tell the world how bad that I have it, because, honestly, I consider myself quite blessed. I am here and alive. But, I want to gently try to explain that even though treatments are over, the journey is far from over. As a friend put it, we are expected to "FIght Like A Girl" as we are battling our way through pure exhaustion, nausea, burns from radiation, etc. We put on a smile to look strong and fist pump when we talk about being a fighter and overcoming the hard part, but inside, the struggle is very real. The fight has only just begun. Treatments are over. Now, we wait. We wait for two years, five years, ten years to pass with NO recurrence. We wait from this test to that test. And, we wait for our identity to come visit us again. Will it? Maybe to an extent, but will it really totally come to stay? Be an encourager. Be a prayer partner. Be understanding. Love...Love...Love.
A lot of thoughts have traveled through my mind over these past few weeks as I am approaching the one year mark of when all of this craziness started. My family and I go to Orlando every Christmas season to spend time together. It is a place that we hold dear to our hearts. It symbolizes a place of comfort, peace, love, and relaxation. Last year at this time, I knew my lump was there but had pushed it to the back of my mind for a while so that I could enjoy my Christmas season. My husband and I had talked about it and I knew that when we returned home, I was going to have to confront it face to face and have my doctor look at it. Just a few days after the new year I was scheduled to go in and talk to my OB-GYN about some lab work that I had had done. I had already talked myself into taking this moment to have him feel the lump and see what he thought it may be.
I remember that day oh so well.... I had gone back and forth over the past couple of months over whether or not this was something to be concerned about. There is a lump there...there isn't a lump there...I feel it...maybe I don't feel it....I was sitting in the lobby of the doctor's office, sick to my stomach from nerves. I can't totally put into words the way that I felt. I think I knew deep down that it wasn't good, but I was hoping for any consolation possible from him so that I wouldn't obsess over it and lose my mind. I went into the exam room and was pep talking myself so that I wouldn't chicken out of telling him about the lump. I was shaking and internally arguing with myself. As he came into the room to talk to me, I pushed the words forward and told him that I needed him to check this out for me. He examined me and told me that by the way it felt, he thought that it was just a benign cyst. He went ahead and scheduled a mammogram and ultrasound and was extremely reassuring that I didn't need to worry. Two weeks later I was in the diagnostic center getting my mammogram and ultrasound and it all began to become reality. The doctor there that read my ultrasound was very cold and quick. He pulled no punches. They handed me brochures about biopsy procedures and sent me straight over to my surgeon's office to schedule a biopsy of the mass. After I went over and got the date set, I remember sitting in the parking lot, calling my husband, scared out of my mind. To that point, I had not made a big deal out of everything and went to all of my visits on my own, but at that moment, I told him that he would have to come with me to the rest of my appointments because it was getting really scary. And, of course, he did. Just a few days later, I had the biopsy done and it came back clear...yes, I said CLEAR. We went ahead and decided to remove the mass anyways because it could obstruct the view of future masses that could develop. On February 5th, I had the mass removed, not realizing that my life was getting ready to come to a screeching halt and change forever. A week to the day, after calling and calling for the pathology report, I received a phone call at work from my nurse. Her first words were, "Where are you? Do you want the news over the phone?" I told her yes and at that moment before she even had to say anything more, I knew.... "Pathology is pretty sure that it is cancer. They are running a few more tests, but are fairly certain that your mass is cancerous." I packed up and went home.... The unknown was staring me right in the face, eye to eye. The inside of my head was a static mess. Every now and then I would hear reality trying to communicate with me, but I couldn't focus. I couldn't speak clearly. I wasn't thinking clearly due to fear and anxiety. I was miserable. My husband would look at me and I would cry, not once, but several times a day. The darkest hour of my journey was sitting on my shoulders and suffocating me. But, little did I know, that one of the greatest learning experiences was ahead of me. A quote from the book , What Cancer Cannot Do by Phyllis Ten Elshof, stood out to me today as I was reading. It said: "Life in God's reign is kaleidoscopic in nature. We try in vain to picture life's next scene, while grace is at work resetting the stage." Philip Gulley One year ago, I was an emotional mess. Today, I am a changed woman. I have learned how to take lemons and make lemonade. I have learned to look at the negative and find the positive. I have learned that no matter who we are and what we have done, God LOVES us and will carry us through anything. Did I want cancer?? NO! But, I can honestly say that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this journey is supposed to be used as a huge part of my testimony and, now that I am on the other side of the sidewalk, it is my job is to share it. |
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