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....
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!
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