Jeremiah30:17 says, “I will restore health to you and heal you of your wounds.”
To catch you up: in February 2025 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In March 2025, the stress of the diagnosis did a number on my autoimmune system response causing a peri-anal abscess to painfully surface and required an “incision and drainage” in the operating room. In April 2025, I underwent a double mastectomy to remove the known cancer found in my left breast and, ultimately, the unknown cancer later found in the pathology from within my right breast.
In the months to come I learned a valuable lesson: there is a difference between relaxation and restoration.
Many of us take a vacation to relax but often find we are still fatigued when we return to our daily lives. One might even say, “I need a vacation from my vacation.”
We sit on a beach, ride on a boat, nap, watch Netflix, read, take long walks, enjoy nature, explore new places, etc.
These, and many others, are the things that relax us.
I’m 50 years old now and I can say I’ve been blessed to be able to have taken many vacations. I’ve been to quite a few places and look forward to visiting many more as my future continues to unfold.
Coming home from a vacation, though, is often the same experience: laundry must be done, food must be purchased, and meals need to be planned. There have been too many times where the arguing began fairly quickly upon walking through our door at home between my husband and I as we unraveled vacation life into reality with a return-to-work in our very near futures.
The relaxation we experienced was seemingly left on the beach many miles away.
I had been relaxed, but not restored, in my vacation.
In the recovery, after the mastectomy, I discovered that what I required was more than being relaxed or calm… I needed to be made well; made whole: restored.
1 Peter 5:10 writes, “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to eternal glory, will himself RESTORE, CONFIRM, STRENGTHEN, AND ESTABLISH you.”
Looking whole externally while feeling incomplete at the same time became the new normal I walked around with for the next almost 6 months.
In my recovery, I determined to do just that and that only: recover. I decided that was my now full-time job and I embraced it as best as a person could (especially a person who considers themself a “do-er”).
However, the months to follow became a new season: one of restoration.
This was not to be something done organically or to receive through osmosis. This was going to require as much intentionality as the season of recovery called for.
Why?
I’m glad you asked.
I wasn’t looking to “bounce back” after my experience with cancer; I was looking for deeper healing. I was not wanting to go back to my previous status quo like a person does after going on a vacation because I, instead, was still reeling that the diagnosis had even happened and that my body was forever altered on account of it.
I may look “well” on the outside, but there are scars you do not see: literal and figurative ones.
I decided to follow the example given to us in Psalm 23. To let Him guide me along right paths so He would restore my soul.
I guess I should describe these right paths, eh?
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
Romans 12:2
That meant, no matter how uncomfortable it felt, I needed to become ok with not being ok even though all looked like it was ok on the outside. The “world” wants me to fake it until I make it, but I believe God is calling me to something more than that: authenticity.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.
Proverbs 3:5-7
You see, it isn’t about “why me” or “why did this happen.” I doubt, even if I had the answers, it would make sense because I cannot grasp the concept of theodicy: the theological response to the problem of suffering (trust me, I study it a lot). What I do know is that I need to trust in the Lord with all my heart and trust in Him when I cannot understand what is going on or why. And when I do? He makes my path straight.
Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure.
Proverbs 4:26
There is no easy way to say it, so here it goes: we need time of reflection. We need LOTS of time to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we’re going. We have to TAKE that time for ourselves. We need to carve out that space in our busy schedules because we are worth taking that time for ourselves. We need to lament what we’ve lost. We need to rest in thankfulness. We need to ponder possibilities. We need to be in awe and wonder of this big world we are a part of. We need to question what we do not understand. Jesus said if we “seek, we will find”: if we don’t take the time to seek, what do you think we will miss finding? Peace? Contentment? Healing? Hope?
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.
Psalm 119:105
If we want to know where we are or where we are going, then we need light to direct us so we can see. The Bible is the Word that illuminates the way to go. Hebrews 4:12 tells us that the Bible is alive and active! 2 Timothy 3:17 reminds us that Scripture is breathed out by God for teaching, training, and equipping for every good work! Deuteronomy 29:29 encourages that the things revealed by God are so we know what to do as we follow Him.
My point is that we need to be in the Word.
The weeks following my surgery was the recovery time. The months to follow have been for restoration.
I slowed down, for once, and literally smelled the roses.
I watched the water as it splashed onto the shore.
I listened to the birds in my yard.
I tasted and saw that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).
I was touched by the favor of God in the process.
Now before y’all think I’m too holy for words, remember that I do work for a living. I have a family. I have friends. I am active in my role as pastor at my church. I have a chronic illness that likes to get in my way. I lean toward the lazy side and like snacks way too much. My doom-scrolling time can get out of hand. I’m pretty darn normal.
Taking time with the Lord for restoration, as I said, takes intentionality. Taking time with any relationship requires a discipline of intention, so why would my personal relationship with Christ be any different?
I need to be in His presence in order to bask in His goodness so He can restore to me the joy of my salvation.
I make choices for how to start my day, what I listen to, what I read, and who I spend time with… all that with a common goal of edification and growth in the Lord.
The restoring process leads me to the rebuilding process that is coming next with the literal reconstruction of my body…
Just about 11 weeks ago I had a bilateral mastectomy for breast cancer that had been officially diagnosed on February 10. Those two events of diagnosis and surgery radically changed my life, and I cannot say for the worse. Isn’t that ironic?
Three weeks ago, I returned to my bedside nursing position where I was rejoined with my amazing co-workers. At that same time, I planned and prepped to deliver two sermons back-to-back at different churches. Let me tell you: it was exciting to be able to accomplish what I had scheduled to accomplish prior to all this cancer business started!
In God whose word I praise, in the Lord whose word I praise; in God I trust and am not afraid- what can man do to me?? I am under vows to you, my God; I will present my thank offerings to You. For You have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life. ~Psalm 56:10-13~
Where I am on this journey now is in the waiting. What that means is that I am in the in-between surgeries portion of my recovery process. I am in the que of scheduling another surgery that will remove the spacers I spoke of in a previous blog and to replace them with the permanent implant.
While waiting, I have started taking the medication Tamoxifen daily. I was diagnosed with ER+ breast cancer so that means I require hormone therapy to stop further cancer cells from forming thanks to my estrogen. I’ll be taking it for approximately 5-10 years BUT I won’t need chemotherapy or radiation alongside it: THANK THE LORD.
Most of the time, being in the waiting is no fun and requires a lot of patience. It often is filled with questions for the unknown about what is going to happen next. I’ve been known to give the encouragement to be productive in the waiting; be purposeful,maintain hope, be teachable…
I think I’d like to add this: be thankful.
It’s a perspective shifter, for sure, when you can find something to be thankful for when you’re waiting for the next thing. Anything to be thankful for.
In the aftermath of the diagnosis and surgery, I was shell-shocked. I was in disbelief that this had even happened. I could not wrap my brain around the idea that I was actually diagnosed with cancer and that my body now looks completely different on account of that.
Could my situation have been worse? Heck yeah, it could have been, and I was acutely aware of that.
Did that make me grateful while I was looking at a scarred figure in the mirror with zero stamina to walk my block or take care of my own basic needs in those early days?? Not really.
I was NOT thankful that I was in this situation at all. Frankly, I was miserable in it. I was in physical pain and emotional turmoil. I recognized that the physical discomfort was temporary, but that did not bring me much comfort as I knew that I was now physically altered in a way I never asked to be.
But I pray to You, Lord, in the time of Your great favor; in Your great love, O God, answer me with Your sure salvation. Rescue me from the mire, do not let me sink. Deliver me from those who hate me, from the deep waters. Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up or the pit close its mouth over me. Answer me, Lord, out of the goodness of Your love, in Your great mercy turn to me. ~Psalm 69:13-16
In the early days of my recovery, I determined to be obedient to the Lord and what I discerned was a request He had of me: surrender to this, Amy. Surrender to Him. Surrender my time, my healing, my plans: present, past, and future.
Don’t DO, just BE.
In response to that, I made up my mind:
“I WILL NOT DIE, BUT LIVE AND WILL PROCLAIM WHAT THE LORD HAS DONE”
(Psalm 118:17).
Surrendering to the recovery process included being in a place of submission toward my emotional response to all this. Once again, I was faltering with the idea that it is acceptable to not be ok with what is happening. I struggled with the thoughts that crying frequently must be a sign that I’m not “doing this well.” I contemplated the need for an antidepressant or counseling (neither are bad options but were they necessary for me??).
I worried that I could be doing this better in order to faster accept my new reality in a new body.
So, I let go.
That’s when the craziest revelation came to me:
I have been given a gift with this cancer diagnosis. I have been ENTRUSTED with the diagnosis of breast cancer and the treatment plan for it for me.
Do I DARE believe that?!!
Could I possibly ACCEPT that notion as reality??!!
ENTRUSTED.
I told you, in the beginning, that when I first felt “the lump” there was a Scripture verse from Isaiah that had been rattling around in my spirit for hours that very day. That, when I looked in the mirror after feeling it, I said to the Lord, as I looked my own self in the eye, “You meant ME, didn’t You? I’m really going to go through this. This is really going to happen.” I also said I went to sleep with great peace not too long after the discovery.
WHEN you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and WHEN you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. WHEN you walk through the fires you will not be burned, the flames will not set you ablaze ~Isaiah 43:2
I have told you of the waters raging all around me, getting deeper and deeper with a faster and faster current threatening to pull me under.
I have told you of the heat of the fire as it burned in me and around me.
My feelings have been real. My story telling has been raw. My experience has left me vulnerable and exposed in more ways than I imagined.
I have shared it all with you as the truth of what I have been thinking, feeling, going through.
And now, 11 weeks after the surgery that removed the cancer from my body and almost 5 months since we heard the words “YOU HAVE CANCER”, I’m telling you I believe I have been entrusted with it.
God did not GIVE me cancer. I am not PUNISHED by Him and therefore “cursed” with cancer. I did nothing to DESERVE having it or to have caused it.
However, I made a choice to follow Jesus with my entire life about 15 years ago. As I grew in my relationship with Him, I CHOSE to make the decision to declare –no matter what happened– “Blessed be the Name of the Lord.”
I made that vow YEARS ago. YEARS AGO.
And wouldn’t you know (if you remember) the one lyric I recalled as I was panic stricken in the OR room while on the OR table was from the song, “Blessed Be Your Name.”
That lyric comes from the book of Job 1:21. Job made his own declaration after he had suffered unspeakable loss~
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.
I MADE my choice to follow Jesus no matter what happened because I had lived my life without Him when things happened…the peace that comes by being able to declare with confidence, “blessed be the name of the Lord” has replaced the emptiness I previously experienced after loss, the hopelessness I felt, the regret, the anger, the shallow pool that numbing and denial created.
Jesus NEVER said, “Follow Me and life will be easy.” Instead, He said, “Life will get harder than you can imagine because you follow Me, but I will be with you through it…I will strengthen you…I will hold you…I will give you power through the Holy Spirit to endure and still be joyful.”
He said, “Keep your eyes on Me. Watch what I do. Follow My example. Stay close to Me.”
The ultimate example to follow will be that He overcame the grave…He conquered death. He ROSE to life. He is ALIVE. He ascended to His Father in heaven in front of witnesses and the world has never been the same since.
We WILL experience that too.
I have experienced the living Christ. I am forgiven because of His death on the cross. I am redeemed. Restored. Made whole.
I am not perfect, and I fall short daily in my efforts to be like my Savior. But that is ok… He died for me (and you) while we were still in sin (which means outside of the right relationship with God we were meant to have) because He still loved usno matter that we did not love Him.
So, I choose Him. I choose to live for Jesus as my King. That means I surrender all to Him whether I understand everything that happens in my life or not.
I did not understand why I was diagnosed with cancer. I was not angry over it, but I was certainly confused…why now? What next? How on earth has this happened??
The question of, “Do I trust You still” was answered with an emphatic yes! As the apostle Peter said, “where else would I go? You have the words of eternal life.”
My choice had been made: BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD.
THAT choice allowed me to sleep that first night. That choice gave me strength to tell our family, to cry publicly instead of hiding in shame, to ask for prayer to HEAR the voice of the Lord so I would know what to do instead of asking for healing.
That choice comforted me as memories of my beautiful friend that had died from cancer not too long ago washed over me with a grief so fresh it could have broke me.
That choice kept me turning to Him for strength that many of you have nicely told me I exhibited when I did not feel strong at all.
That choice showed me I was loved. I was seen. I matter. That THIS diagnosis, this hurt in this world matters.
That choice is what convicts me to tell my story so many more will see themselves somewhere in it and know how loved they are as well.
For God so loved THE WORLD….
So, yeah. I was entrusted with it. I knew to give it to God so He could use it. Why go through it for any other reason???
First of all, I want to say thank you to all who have read this blog journey. Secondly, I did not intend to write and publish my thoughts to attract attention or to seek sympathy, however I have been overwhelmed by the support you have shown to me through your comments and face to face interactions. My purpose in writing publicly was to process my thoughts, to safeguard my memories of this experience, and to encourage others who may have had or will have a similar experience.
Today marks the beginning of the 6th week since my bilateral mastectomy surgery.
You have joy even though you may have had to suffer for a little while. You may have had to suffer sadness in all kinds of trouble. Your troubles have come in order to prove that your faith is real. Your faith is worth more than gold. `~1 Peter 1:6-7
When I came home from the hospital, we all were surprised how incredibly TIRED I was! To be honest, I do not remember too much until about 3 days later- which is just crazy!
That nerve blocker worked like a dream so I was able to maintain a decent comfort level with the pain medication recommended. Dan proved himself to be a wonderful nurse and kept a close eye on when it was time for me to have my next dose for pain control and my antibiotics. He made sure I always had something to drink close by, that I was safe with simple ambulation to the bathroom, and that I woke up to eat something every now and again.
Essentially, this was Home Base for the first week or so.
I had four drains coming out of my sides under each armpit (2 on each side). Those needed to be drained and measured twice a day and my husband proved to not be squeamish at all! I was very impressed with his tender loving care!!
Side note: those drains HURT.
Pain medication does not eliminate the discomfort that comes from pushing on the sore spot. When a person is still, the discomfort is less. With movement, however, a person feels all of it. It’s just the way it goes with incisions and drains: we’re going to feel pain. We still have to move around, as sitting in one place is not a viable option either for recovery.
We’re going to feel the pain. I’m going to feel the pain.
As a nurse, I have been known to say that “surgical pain heals.” Well, I’m banking on that one, folks… It sure better.
At the 1 week “surgery anniversary”, Dan and I ventured out for a car ride to visit our surgeon. This was the first time I could really talk to her while not under the influence of anesthesia as well as get the official pathology results from my breast tissue that was removed.
While there we received good news and surprising news.
The good news: all the cancer was removed with good, clean/clear margins. There were 2 tumors found in the left breast that were both Invasive Ductal Carcinoma HER+. The lymph nodes removed showed no signs of cancer.
PRAISE THE LORD!
The surprising news? There was another tumor found in the right breast that also came back HER+ but called NON-invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
A second cancer in the other breast.
I looked that surgeon in the eye and said, “I MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR THE BILATERAL MASTECTOMY. I KNEW I NEEDED TO HAVE ONE. I JUST KNEW IT!”
Then I promptly burst into tears!
Her response was an emphatic, “yes, you did.” She was genuinely shocked by the pathology as this was not expected at all.
All that worrying and wondering about what kind of surgery to have… wondering if I was being “dramatic” for going so “over the top” in my treatment choice… I WAS RIGHT.
Praise God for the guidance that helped me make the right decision for me.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Don’t lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths ~Proverbs 3:5-6
Two shell-shocked people people left the office that day.
The next day we had a different appointment with the plastic surgeon so we could now begin the process of “filling.”
This is a sample replica of the “fun” little gadget that was put into me. It is called a “spacer” and its design is to be filled up like a balloon weekly so my skin can slowly stretch around it in preparation for the permanent implant to be surgically placed in a few months time.
The “filling” itself is not painful (I’ll spare you the details), but the stretching…. Oh my goodness gracious. That’s a whole other thing.
Yikes. It hurts.
When it stops hurting…guess what? It’s time for another fill!
We do this until I say we are done. That means when I’m at the “size” I want to be from now on.
And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast ~1 Peter 5:10
Washing My Hair Day became the highlight of my week in those early days. It is certainly not a flattering picture, but it’s as real as it gets folks…I was not allowed to do much with my arms – especially repetitive motion activities – because it would cause fluid to build up in my surgical area. That means “scrubbing my head” myself was out. The other component is that it hurt to lift my arms, let alone to hold themup over my head, so this was just not an activity I could do by myself.
Thankfully, as you can tell from the picture, my family enjoyed helping.
I was not allowed to shower as long as those darn drains were in… they stayed in for 4 weeks. 4 weeks of no showering or immersion bathing. 4 weeks. Now, it is one thing to have help washing my hair and emptying my drains…but it is a whole other thing to require assistance with bathing.
I am an RN. I am the person who helps others. I have bathed many hundreds of people over my years as a bedside nurse. I know it is not a big deal. I know it is something that just needs to be done.
It’s not a big deal until you are the one who needs help with that particular activity of daily living.
Dan and I met when I was 21 to his 22 years of age. We got married when I was 23 and he was 24.
We bought our home when I was 25 and he was 26 years old. Our Troy was born when I was 27 and Nic came into this world when I was 30 years old.
We celebrated our 25th Wedding Anniversary this past Labor Day when we visited Troy in the PNW.
We have been to the pits in our marriage and have been restored to something far better with the help of Jesus Christ. We are committed to the vows we spoke on that beautiful day 25+ years ago. We are committed to each other. We are committed to our family. We are committed to the Lord.
But…this has been hard.
Not on our marriage, per se… just hard.
“In sickness and in health…until death do us part” are real words all the sudden. They mean something now. In “sickness” means more than sitting by a bedside while others provide the care. It means that YOU provide the care. YOU protect the person you are committed to. YOU advocate for that person.
YOU wash their back when they can’t.
YOU cry quietly behind them while they cry openly on the stool when sitting in front of you while you run the soapy rag over their back.
And when they cry while alone with you in the bedroom at night, you cry with them too.
That’s marriage.
It’s as humbling as it is beautiful.
The day those drains came out meant I could finally shower! It meant I was also one step closer to finally sleeping on my side and that it would not hurt as bad anymore when I lifted my arms up over my head or was hugged by those who love me.
Thanks to a friend we had our first shower chair in the house! I have never felt so good as I did when that hot water ran over me that wonderful day! I turned on Spotify as I climbed into the shower and the song that came on was “I’m still counting my blessings”. To listen to music that declared the thankfulness I was feeling from such a simple pleasure brought me to tears.
Building my endurance came next. I slowly began to walk 1 lap around the block and then 2…and then 3. I still could not do much with my arms though so these were not high cardio laps!
Going to the grocery store (with a companion) became the place where I realized I could measure my progress. After the first time we went, I was so exhausted I needed to take a nap. It progressed to needing to only sit down while Dan did the check out part (but that was after we had already been at a different store first).
I also started driving by myself.
I finally went back to church… and to restaurants… even to a show to see Hamilton!
We’ve had many visitors over these weeks to help lift my spirits. We’ve received many cards, calls, and texts too. People have been incredibly generous with gifts and meals as well.
I’ve had a silly goal that I want to carry my purse again.
My purse choice has always been to be a large one and I was specifically told it was too heavy for me to carry. Initially, I had a 3lb weight limit that very slowly increased to 10 lbs. I’ve never weighed my purse, but the running joke is that is weighs more than my dog weighs (a 16lb shiatzu). All that means is carrying my purse is just not gonna happen.
I’m known for my big bags. I LIKE my big bags. It’s one of those crazy “identity” things.
I’ll know I’m better when I’m carrying it again.
Well…here we are on the 1st day of week 6 and I’m carrying that purse around now!
Silly goals work, I guess!
My body is healing. I’m preparing to return to work as an RN and as a pastor. I’m thinking ahead. I’m eating healthy. I’m wanting to make plans for the future. My emotions are a work in progress and something to write about on a different day.
See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called the children of God (1 John 3:1)!
Here we are at the end of the first part of this cancer journey. In a few short days, after all the stress, worry, anxiety, sleepless nights, I will be having my surgery to rid this body of mine from cancer.
My incision from the Crohn’s abscess has healed nicely and I have even told my husband that I think my situation with the fistula may have even changed for the better finally! After having been so worried about that infection being an issue for this upcoming surgery, I can now see that what happened is what needed to happen when it happened for the best possible overall outcome to occur.
How crazy is that??? What looked like a horrible situation turned into… dare I even say it… a blessing.
A very wise friend often reminds me to use extreme caution when labeling a situation as either good or bad as we do not see the whole picture at the time of labeling. What may seem “good” could, in fact, have a poor outcome and what seemed “bad” may ultimately be what is best for us.
That being said, this cancer diagnosis has seemed to be very bad. I am guilty of having been quick to label it as such. Who could say cancer is good???
Give thanks IN all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus ~1 Thessalonians 5:18
What IF there were things that are good in what seems to be so bad that what seemed bad becomes good?
Could you follow that thought? Let’s say it again…
What IF there were things that are good in what seems to be so bad that what seemed bad becomes good?
How about, when we see those good things in the bad stuff, we givethanks? Maybe that is when the tide suddenly changes…
What if…
I’ve been a caregiver for all of my life. At a young age I remember being babysat by a young mom who had a newborn. I know I was under the age of 2nd grade at that time and I was changing his diapers for her because I loved to help care for him. I remember getting her water so she could drink it while she was breast feeding him (discreetly).
I began babysitting officially by the 6th grade. I volunteered in the church nursery as often as I could. I volunteered in the elementary school’s after school child care program (Latch Key Kids) so often they finally started to pay me real money instead of volunteer hours.
My grandparents became ill when I was in junior high school and required assistance in their home with simple tasks. By the time I was in high school, I was proficient in skills that would qualify me for a position as a Certified Nurse’s Assistant.
I entered Bronson School of Nursing fresh out of high school and became an RN by the time I was 20 years old.
In my almost 50 years of living, I have become quite skilled at seeing who needs help and have learned how to meet that need with ease. It is as natural to me to do it as it is for me to breathe.
I have become very adept at being a giver.
I have been told that givers make terrible receivers.
I’m not one who likes to be told I’m terrible at anything, so that does not settle well with me. However… I think it is true. Letting people do things for me or give me things is not easy.
I like the passage that says “do for others as you would have them do for you” but I do not particularly desire that to be tested. I’ll just keepdoing -thank you very much- and hope it would be reciprocated while not necessarily expecting it to be.
So I give. And give. And give.
I’ll make a meal. Change my schedule to suit others. Show up. Donate. Whatever.
Don’t you? I don’t think I’m too unusual in my choices…We do what we need to do when it needs to be done, right?
I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ll bring it up again because I think it is a significant point. This past summer I felt like I was breaking. I felt lost and unfocused. I knew what I wanted to do but could not drum up the energy to do it. I felt drained. That made me feel insecure. Repeat cycle.
I felt the Lord nudging me to spend time with Him- alone time; quality time. I made the choice to carve out space for a spiritual retreat while on vacation for our 25th Wedding Anniversary to visit our Navy son stationed on Whidbey Island, Washington.
That choice unraveled the tangled ball of emotions built up inside me with the undercurrent theme running through each thread saying, “NOURISHMENT is found HERE.”
I left that trip with the realization that the cure for my restlessness and lack of focus, my emptiness and emotional fatigue, was to keep spending time alone with the Lord. To keep carving out space that looked different than my daily routine of Bible reading with devotionals.
The next opportunity revealed to me that I am KNOWN by God, I am SEEN by God, and that I am FIERCELY LOVED by God.
The next opportunity of nourishment revealed to me that I have cancer… I had felt the lump.
Whoah…wait…what??
Not exactly the pattern I was looking for or expecting in my set aside time with the Lord.
BUT… in that revelation I was also validated that I was still SEEN, KNOWN, and LOVED through the giving of the scripture passage found in Isaiah 43:1-4 that I’ve quoted many times in this series.
Just because I don’t like the circumstance does not mean I am not seen, known, or loved. Instead, truly believing and accepting those things as truths has become what has sustained me through these days up until my surgery.
What God did next was to choose to show me how loved I really am and He used His people, His creation, to make His point.
Would I receive what He had to give, though?
That has not been easy: givers are terrible receivers.
What is it about receiving a gift that is so darn hard?? Why is it awkward? Why does it feel like there is an expectation attached to the giving that I must measure up to?? Why do I feel like I need to do something in return: that I now need to GIVE BECAUSE I HAVE RECEIVED?
Somewhere along the line relationships have become transactional for me. You know how it goes: you do something for me and I’ll do something for you. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.
Nothing is done without a catch. Without an expectation. Without an ulterior motive waiting in the wings.
But that is not what our God does.
He made us in His image because He wanted to.
He paved a way for unperfect us to be in a right relationship with perfect Him because He wanted to.
Jesus took the flogging, wore the crown of thorns, carried His cross, laid down on it and held His hands steady as the nails pounded into His wrists, and then gave up His spirit for us because He wanted to.
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16)
It was not transactional. It was covenantal.
God’s plan. God’s idea. God’s way. God’s choice.
OUR BENEFIT.
What do we do then?
BELIEVE IN HIM and RECEIVE HIS GIFT OF LIFE.
Then why do I still feel like I am unworthy? Not good enough? Need to do more??? That I owe God something?
For whatever reason, God has determined to show me His love and His desire for me to let Him lavish it upon me. To receive it.
Over and over in these weeks, I have shared the different ways God has provided for me. I have been humbled by the outpouring of love shown to me in these days. I have come to believe that all of us, whether we want to accept it or not, are the hands and feet of Jesus in this world and your acts of kindness displayed have come through the extension of His arms and legs.
1 John 4:19 ~ “We love because He first loved us.”
Nothing we do out of love comes from another source but the source of life. Nothing. After all, EVERY good and perfect gift comes from our Father in heaven (James 1:17).
Every good deed.
Every kind word.
Every flower purchased or card sent.
Every text and phone call.
Every random person I have ran into that has either blessed or encouraged me.
Every divine encounter with a physician or clinician.
I have tried to down play the experiences, but it is not working. I have tried to explain away why someone may say or do something nice to me. I have tried to convince myself that coincidental encounters are just that: coincidence. I have tried to interpret the timing of events as not that big of a deal. I have tried to minimize the effect kindness has had on me.
I have wondered, “what have I done to deserve these good things” instead of “why do I have cancer?”
I have wondered, “who am I to be blessed in these ways” instead of shaking my fists to the heavens in anger that I have cancer.
I have sat back, humbled, as I receive what is being offered to me because I am loved.
This last week has been one outpouring expression of love after another: my work co-workers have no idea what they have done for my heart and attitude. My friends have come out of the woodwork to spend time with me, to say the most incredible words of encouragement to me, to comfort me. Acquaintances or people from my past have stepped to the forefront with memories to share and words of wisdom and support to offer.
I sit back and ask, “why all this? Who am I? What have I done to deserve this kindness and love?”
The answer comes from within my spirit: “Nothing. You’ve done nothing but be who I created you to be and that is more than enough. It has always been enough and it will always be enough. It is not in what you DO, it is in who your ARE: MY beloved child.”
It’s humbling. It’s hard to receive when my knee-jerk reaction is to reject it, minimize, or boom-a-rang gift it back.
But again and again, the Lord keeps impressing on me to receive it. Receive this gift. Receive this love. It is Mine to give and it is yours to receive.
When was the last time you received a compliment and just took it? You didn’t give one back or make an explanation about it? When was the last time you felt good enough to receive it? Worthy?
Here is the thing. YOU ARE.
Maybe, just maybe, this “bad” experience I’ve been writing about has been “good” all along. Maybe it has been good because it has shown how far God will go so His children know how loved they are.
Like I said, I’m so distracted by all the kindness shown to me that I’m more baffled over that than I am about why I have cancer. What matters, suddenly, isn’t that I have cancer but that I am loved.
I cannot feel anger over my situation because I am too overwhelmed by the goodness being extended to me.
I cannot feel fear because perfect love drives out all fear (1 John 4:18).
I’m so busy thanking God for all the random things He’s been doing that my anxiety has disappeared.
I’m so absorbed by the amazing things being done around me that I’m wrapped up in a peace that makes no sense.
I’m so enthralled by the events of the present -a present that consists of me having cancer- that I am becoming excited for the possibilities to come in the future.
Maybe me writing this is so someone can see where God is working for good in their “bad” situation too.
So this cancer is supposed to be bad, right? Then why do I feel so good?
As I close the page on this chapter of my life, I can honestly say I have been changed by this experience of breast cancer. I am different for the fear of it, the worry in it, and the hope through it.
In a few days I will no longer have breast cancer -PRAISE GOD- but I will be recovering physically from my surgery as well as emotionally from the process that led me to my decision of a double mastectomy. This next chapter will be interesting, to say the least.
However, today I can honestly say I am thankful for all of this It makes no sense, but that is what my heart is feeling right now; thankfulness.
The Scripture says that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit…I guess thankfulness is the result of that closeness.
I was getting a latte today when a man approached me. His excitement was radiating off of him: he had news he needed to share even though it meant sharing with a complete stranger.
He found a good deal on a new truck and even showed me a picture of it as I waited in line to place my order.
As he talked about the truck, he said he was in disbelief over the wonder of it all and the timing of finding it:
he told me that he had been at a Bible study the night before. While there, he was prayed over regarding his need for a new vehicle.
He found the truck this morning; the very next day.
What really surprised him was the color of the truck: it was a mocha brown, I guess. He told me his last car, a Chevy Malibu, had been the same color when it was “taken” from him, and here is our Lord replacing his vehicle with one of the same color.
I couldn’t help but comment to him on how pretty I thought the truck was, affirmed that a Chevy Silvarado is a great truck, and that our God sure is good.
We serve a King who pays attention to the small details of life.
But now, THIS is what the Lord says- He who created you, He who formed you:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name and YOU ARE MINE.
WHEN you pass through the waters, I will be with you.
WHEN you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
WHEN you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord your God…”
Isaiah 43:1-3
How often do I boldy give praise for what the Lord has done as that man in the coffee shop did?
Psalm 89:1
I will sing of the goodness and lovingkindness of the Lord forever! With my mouth, I will make known Your faithfulness from generation to generation.
The truth is this: probably not often enough. It’s so easy to see what is wrong or what feels bad or what is scary or hurtful. Those negative emotions all too often shade the beautiful colors still represented in this life that we continue to live each and every day.
I was told recently that when we find ourselves walking in the valley of the shadow of death, we forget that it is only a shadow.
That means the sun is still shining: we need light to make a shadow.
Are we seeking that source of light??? Or keeping our focus on the valley? On the shadow?
Through this journey of breast cancer, I have mentioned my concerns regarding my underlying diagnosis of Crohn’s Disease.
It’s time to talk about that. If you thought I was getting personal before…. this factor takes me to a whole other level of intimacy and is not one I find easy to share.
In 2018, the disease I knew and had been treated for since I was the age of 14 changed. Most likely, from all the years of inflammation in my colon, a fistula developed that caused an abscess.
I’ll spare the details but will say it was incredibly painful and I became very ill. A brand new course of treatment was suddenly required: an IV infusion that would suppress my immune system (on purpose) in order to stop my auto-immune system from going into overdrive.
Basically, I can’t heal if my auto-immune system is fighting my immune system all the time. It’s a rather ironic situation: make me immuno-suppressed so I don’t get sick, but being immuno-suppressed can make me susceptible to illness more easily.
Talk about living in tension.
The treatment has been very effective for my Crohn’s management. The colon inflammation went away, and my GI system is in the best shape I’ve ever known I could experience, but I still have the fistula.
Apparently, that’s a little bugger to heal.
On New Years Eve 2024, I had an MRI just to see what that fistula has been up to since 2018.
I had no real issues going on, so it was fairly “random” that my trusted GI PA wanted to look under rocks for me. As he said, “Amy, you are getting by- and that’s OK. But I want you to thrive.”
May we all be blessed with a medical team that desires us to THRIVE.
Per the MRI, much to his surprise (and mine as well), there was another abscess present. I had zero discomfort or awareness it was there, so the decision was made for me to go on a HUGE antibiotic dose for 3 weeks.
I was terrified because I’ve experienced what antibiotics can do to an immuno-suppressed system: it can completely wipe out all the good, natural flora which could cause my system to be susceptible to a different bacteria.
It’s not a fun thing to go through.
I trusted my medical team and took a deep breath: we went for it.
My life is in the Lord’s hands, I thought to myself. I believed this was found though His grace and timing. I chose to trust that God would carry me through whatever was going to happen next.
I was finishing those antibiotics (without one single issue of concern to speak of!!) when I was diagnosed with the breast cancer.
That’s why Crohn’s was on the forefront of my mind at the time of the diagnosis. You see, I call my Crohn’s The Dragon. She often sleeps… but when she wakes up, LOOK OUT! I believed she was resting, but not sound asleep so I don’t want to wake her.
We must tread lightly.
As my previous posts have shared, I’m under some stress. I’m feeling the strain of this diagnosis. I’m feeling the weight of the uncertainties. My emotions are all over the board. My anxiety ambushes me. Depression washes over me.
That Scripture from Isaiah rings LOUD. The rivers are flowing hard and deep with a fast current. The fire is H-O-T.
Trying to remember what the Lord promised me and not be afraid feels like a losing battle.
I was settling into the idea that my surgical date had been set for April 16…over a month away. I was looking for the positives in the timeline that had been set for me and leaned into them.
My friend told me I had been given a gift of time to optimize my health. He reminded me that I had over 4 weeks to get my body “ready” to have and recover from a big surgery.
Taking his advice, I turned to yoga for stretching and strengthening while increasing my protein intake.
I decided to be productive in the waiting.
On March 6, I noticed that I was more tired than usual after work, but I wasn’t too concerned about it. I wasn’t going to analyze it. So, I took a nap after work and determined to still do my exercises.
As I shifted into the sit- stretch positions of yoga, I noticed a discomfort that had not been there the day before. I tried to convince myself, “This is normal,” and that “I’m ok, don’t worry.”
I opted not to speak a word to Dan about it. I determined it was all in my head. I convinced myself (but not really) that a discomfort when sitting is “totally normal.”
FYI: That is what most auto-immune patients are convinced of. We believe what we feel is all in our heads. It is not real. Somewhere, along the line, we must have been told this, and that is why our diseases run rampant: we don’t speak up for fear of judgment.
The next morning, I did not want to get out of bed. If I did, I would have to determine whether what I suspected was going was real or not. My instinct told me, though, that the previously discovered and somewhat treated abscess had surfaced.
The longer I lingered, the longer I could stay in denial.
I do not want to deal with my Crohn’s right now. I don’t want to face a return oflife with anabscess. Don’t I have enough going on, Lord?? This doesn’t seem fair.
Then the doubts surfaced quickly: What if they don’t believe me when I call my medical team? What if I’m wrong and sound the alarm for no reason? What if I’m what I’m afraid of being: dramatic???
That’s when the phone rang. Answering it, I find that it is my breast surgeon’s office. They have had a cancelation. Would I want to move my surgery date up to that coming Wednesday? In 5 days.
Are you kidding me?!
The absolute absurdity that I am being offered the chance to have this flipping cancer that haunts my dreams and stunts my reality cut out of me sooner has been laid on the table before me….and I think I have a Crohn’s fistula abscess.
Are you kidding me.
The woman calling did not ask me if I was healthy or having any medical problems. I had told NO ONE that this was even happening.
No one knew.
No one asked.
No one had to know?
But I knew. And I knew this could be bad if I ignored it. I knew the surgery recovery could have complications if I had an active infection but did not disclose it.
Are you kidding me.
I needed time to think.
I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden because I knew what I had to do, and that was to choose to keep the cancer so I could deal with The Dragon.
How do I say that out loud??
I want this cancer gone!! Every single minute it sits inside me feels like it is taking time off my life. I feel it burning inside of me. It aches. Is it growing? Is it spreading? Is it reaching my lymph nodes???
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what I needed to do: take a deep breath and trust in the Lord.
Dear God,
The waters are rising!! I can’t catch my breath! You said they would not overwhelm me, but I’m scared and can’t breathe. You said the fire wouldn’t scorch me, but it is hot. It is so hot it hurts. Help me, help me, help me do what I know is right. Help me not respond in fear and make a choice that will harm me. Help me to say “no.”
I told the breast surgeon’s office “no” and immediately called my colo-rectal surgeon. He ordered me antibiotics (again) and an appointment was made to see him in 6 days.
Instead of breast surgery in 5 days, I would see a colo- rectal surgeon in 6. Talk about a few degrees south from where I wished we would be addressing.
The discouragement I felt is hard to describe. Maybe the best way is to envision that valley of the shadow of death.
The shadow was dark and heavy. The tears were hot and many.
A new fear surfaced: Could this impact that?? Is there enough time to get my infection under control before Aril 16?
Back to the land of the unknown.
I made it through the week with the antibiotics doing their good work, but now my anxiety feared the abscess would go dormant while appearing to be absolved because it had slithered back under the surface.
What would my colo- rectal surgeon say if I’m no longer having discomfort? Would that be a good thing? Or would it surface again right before April 16 to cause a major delay???
By the time I arrived to his office, I had myself nicely all worked up. The tears started in the car before entering the building. The hyperventilating came when the MA asked her pre-appointment questions.
My poor doctor. I feel bad for him and what he walked into when he came into the room as I was barely holding it together.
After an up-close-and -personal exam (done professionally and with a chaperone present), he asked what I was doing the next day. I told him I was supposed to work. He said ,”Not anymore. I’ve had a cancelation. We’re going to take care of this tomorrow at noon in the operating room.”
Now HE has a cancelation?
One space opened for me, and I have to say no to it and now one I have to to say yes to.
This “yes” hurts. I felt like I had stepped back in time to 2018 when all this started… all the trauma that experience caused surfaced. All the fear from this disease that will not release me from itstalons exploded in my chest.
I asked him, “What is happening? Why?? We treated this with antibiotics for 3 weeks and now it surfaces??? It makes no sense.”
I sat there and cried as he looked at me. He sighed heavily as he sat there.
Then he said, “It’s this. All this” as he made a motion over me to indicate my emotions. He said, “This is stress.”
Great.
Stress. A stress I can not escape from.
Am I NOT coping well? Is there a way to do better? To be better at this?
If those aren’t the words I’ve asked myself my whole life…
As if to say, “What’s wrong with me? Tell me and I’ll fix it.”
Well, I can’t.
I’ve never had cancer before, so I don’t know how to do this any differently than how I am.
Maybe that’s why I’m writing all this. I don’t know. I fear some may think it is for attention. I fear what I’m going through may not matter. But I’ve got so much whirling around in my head that I don’t know what to do with it, so I write.
My insecurities say, “What you have to say doesn’t matter. Why blog it when a journal is more than adequate? “
I want to praise Him in the storm.
I want to bless His name on this road marked with suffering, though there is pain in the offering.
I want accountability that I am living what I teach and what I preach through how I live.
Psalm 71:17-18
Since my youth, God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds. Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare your power to the next generation, Your mighty acts to all who are to come.
Dan and I head to the hospital the next day to have the abscess surgically drained.
As a side note, it is important to understand that I work at this hospital and know a lot of people in the OR.A lot. This particular procedure is personal and intimate and embarrassing for me, so to have people I know involved is difficult. I manage these encounters as best as I can, but it is with great difficulty.
Strangely enough, I was calm this time. I was not crying. I had submitted to what was happening and my lack of control in it or around it. What would happen from this point on was not up to me.
I chose to trust the Lord with all of it and felt His peace as it came over me.
The Lord blessed me that day with a gift of anonymity. Other than my surgeon, I did not know any of the others who participated in my care that day. Not one other person. Not one.
I am amazed by His grace that continues to cover me through chance encounters with my medical team, specific awareness of my own body from past experiences, cancelations to make room for me, and now respite from the extra kindness that would have been shown to me because they were my peers.
All I had to be that day was the patient, and it was marvelous.
When my surgeon talked to my husband afterward, he said he had “run into” my plastic surgeon at the completion of my case. He was given a divine opportunity to hand my concerns of this situation compicating that surgery over to the next surgeon to be involved.
How amazing is that?
That is called GRACE
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…
How amazing is it to know we serve a King who pays attention to the small details of life?
The aftermath of that surgery did leave me as an emotional wreck- I can’t lie about that. Knowing the goodness of God doesn’t eliminate how badly I dislike my situation.
I went into hiding for a few days for my emotions to recover as my body healed.
I met with the PA from the plastic surgeon’s office next for my official pre-op appointment. While there, she verbalized significant concern over me receiving my next scheduled infusion for my Crohn’s since it was so close to my surgical date.
As I said, my medication keeps my immune system suppressed, so healing is difficult. I kind of need to be able to heal from this double mastectomy and reconstruction surgery.
The surgeons have legit concerns.
So do I.
The mere thought of not taking my medication that keeps The Dragon somewhat tame is horrifying to me. What would happen to my auto-immune system if we allow my immune system to wake up when this abscess has already created a little stir while taking it??
This decision is out of my control.
Here is the thing: do I trust the Lord with all of my health or do I trust the medication?
Do I trust the Lord with all of my life or just the bits I turn over to Him?
I have taken wobbly steps of faith in my trust walk with Him this far….He has not failed me, left me alone, or left me without solutions and options. He has shown me the well in the wilderness.
He has told me that He has redeemed me. He has called me by name. He has said, “you are Mine.“
Submit and accept. This is what I am called to do. Do not worry and fret, but submit and accept. Do not complain, but praise.
My dear friend gave me a card with some great advice on it~
So I did.
I accepted that I may go without my Crohn’s treatment for 3 months. Whatever happened from doing that, we would deal with. I have a good team surrounding me. I am in good hands.
The Lord is my Great Physician.
The surgeon’s office called with the verdict: they decided it was for the best that I stay on my treatment plan!!
The PRAISE THE LORD escaped my mouth as I stood in a procedure room full of doctors, nurse, and anesthesia staff while on the phone!
Psalm 27:13
I remain confident of this; I will see the goodness of the Lord while I am here in the land of the living.
The relief was palpable. My response to the relief was physical as tears escaped my eyes unashamedly.
The course has been set. The Captain is at the helm. The crew have been readied. Prepare the sails because we are steering toward this mastectomy now.
In John 21:18 Jesus is talking with His disciple Peter telling him that “others will dress you and take you where you don’t want to go.”
I remember when my youngest was little we had to take him to the doctor. He was scared of the doctor and always had been. For years, prior to going, he would repeatedly ask if he was going to get a “shot” that day. We would never lied to him to try to ease his anxiety out of a fear that doing so would backfire on us so, instead, we would say, as honestly as we could, “I don’t know buddy; you might have to have one this time.”
It was hard having to take him somewhere that he did not want to go; where he was scared to go.
In his sweet childhood, he was quite shy and nervous around new people, places, and unknown experiences. In fact, it was often the fear of the unknown that made him most anxious. He seemed to think ahead wondering or worrying who would be there, what it would look like or feel like.
I often think that he and I share the same brain as that is so similar to how I process things.
There was one particular time at the doctor that was the worst; I think he had a rash or something that needed to be assessed for treatment. As we approached the front door of the office, he hard-stopped walking. Completely stopped and dug his heels into the cement.
Can you envision trying to pull a young elementary age child to go forward? Can you see him with legs locked, heels firmly placed into the cement ground, head down, back arched, with arms stretched forward because his dad and I are trying to coerce him into movement?
He was terrified for some reason and we could not move him an inch no matter that we were reassuring him that we would not leave him; that we would ensure he would be alright because we would be right there with him the whole time.
Crying hard, he conceded and into the office we went.
I remember another time, I do not recall WHY he would have said this, but he asked me about “the oxygen mask that would smell like bubble gum” and if he would have it too.
He was 4 years old when his older brother required a rather major surgery to repair ligaments that were deformed due to being born with a club foot malformity. We took our youngest (maybe it wasn’t a good idea, but we wanted him to feel involved with what was happening with his brother as he seemed rather intuitive and introspective about things instead of being “clueless”) with us to the pre-anesthesia appointment where they showed both boys the oxygen mask smelling of bubble gum that our oldest would see again on his surgery day.
That experience had been years prior to when his inquiring mind paired that event of his brother together with whatever doctor office experience he was about to have: and it brought him anxiety and fear because that was what was known to him.
How often does that happen to us? We allow fear and anxiety (do we really allow it??? I don’t always feel I have the choice when it shows up…) to take over all rational thought because of a previous experience when we are suddenly faced with something new and unknown.
In 2021, my best friend of 20 years forever finished her battle with Colon Cancer.
We were months apart in age. We were both nurses for about the same amount of years and worked in very similar fields. Our mothers and mother in laws were similar in temperament. We were married almost the same amount of years and both married to a “Dan”! We had children the same age. We laughed about the same things. We both analyzed every thought and action said or done by those around us. We both believed that life mattered and what we did with our lives made a difference in this world around us.
Her experience with cancer is the experience that I recall now.
I remember the day she called me to tell me of her diagnosis in 2016. She told me that her husband was not with her for that infamous scheduled colonoscopy because she did not think it was going to be a big deal. I thought it was interesting that she had prearranged for a friend to take her home when it was over so he would not have to take the day off of work.
She had to call him on the phone to tell him a cancerous mass had been found in her colon.
What I do not remember is how that felt to her to make that phone call. I’d asked her so many things about her life and her cancer… but not about that. I did not ask her how she told her children and how that felt… before, during, and after.
At the time, those seemed to be silly questions. I figured I knew the answer: horrible. “It felt horrible, Am.” Of course, Al, of course it felt horrible- I can’t even imagine.
Now I can.
OhAli, it is the worst thing ever. I wish I would have asked you about that. How did you do it?? What were your thoughts?? Did you pray first or were you so shell-shocked you felt numb? Were you worried about Dan? Were you broken hearted because you knew you were about to change their worlds and break their hearts?
We aren’t supposed to hurt our children. Ever. Discipline, yes. Hurt? NO. My life as a mother has been one of protection. Of support. Of encouragement.
Have we had hardship that we had to face with them? YES. But we were always shielding them and making a path before them all the way.
Not this time.
And now we have a precious girl brought into our lives…one whose own momma had only recently passed from breast cancer before her battle with it could ever really start.
OhAli, I miss you. I cannot even describe in words how I wish I could talk to you about how to do thiswith my kids.
But first… I have to tell Dan.
On February 4 I was in Muskegon sitting by Lake Michigan while my husband was working in Atlanta. I had texted him to ask him to carve some time out to be alone and undistracted so we could talk before I had my luncheon meeting.
It was beautiful by Lake Michigan. The air was crisp and the sky was even a little blue that day with the sun trying to peek out from behind the puffy clouds. There was not a lot of snow but the ground was frozen.
Have you ever walked on frozen sand? I highly recommend doing it.
As I sat on the bluff overlooking the beach and lake, I could see the open water of Lake Michigan crashing into the ice shelf that had formed up to the shoreline.
It was beautiful…quiet…peaceful.
Matthew 6:26
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”
The old hymn His Eye Is On the Sparrow kept echoing through my head:
“Why should I feel discouraged? Why should the shadows come? Why should my heart be lonely and long for heav’n and home when Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He; His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me” (Civilla D. Martin 1905).
Dan calls while I sit in the serenity of that moment. I am able to calmly explain to him that I had felt a lump in my breast the evening before which caused me to remember I had been told upon scheduling that this upcoming 2nd mammogram was NOT because of breast density. I confessed that I had suddenly recalled it was to directly screen my left breast only.
I calmly told him the verse from Isaiah 43:1-3 that had been revealed to me by the Lord the previous night~
Do not be afraid…When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God…your Savior.
We both cried.
Atlanta felt very far away in that moment and he would not be home until later that week which would be the day after the 2nd mammogram.
We encouraged each other with hope that I could very well be wrong in my prediction…although we both knew I was right. We decided together to keep these thoughts and concerns to ourselves until we knew with certainty what was going on.
When we saw how deeply the possibility of having cancer was affecting us, we did not wish to put these worries onto anyone else until we had to.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own (Matthew 6:34).
I apologized to Dan for hurting him. I know in our vows it says, “in good times and in bad, sickness and in health”… and we’ve been through so much of that already and now… there is even more hurt to come. My physical body is hurting him and I cannot stop it from happening. I hate it.
The rest of the day and week somehow manages to pass and Thursday has finally arrived.
The check in for this 3D Mammogram is the same as before… put clothes into a locker, put the white gown on that opens to the front, and step into the exam room. When I walked in my previous mammogram image was up on the computer screen for the technician to know what she was looking specifically for in this current one.
In all irony, my job as an RN has given me some experience at looking at x-ray’s and ultrasounds. I have seen what “normal” looks like, how cysts look different from a solid mass, and what lymph nodes are visually. As I look at the screen, I can see as plain as day the dark “paint splatter” that rests inside my left breast.
I state aloud, “well, there it is I guess.”
The technician asked me if I had palpated anything on my breast before so I, as I began to cry, pointed to a specific area. THE specific area. She marks it with a pen so she can tell on the imaging if this is the same “spot”.
“X” now marks the spot.
The mammogram is completed quickly and I am escorted to a waiting room while the radiologist looks at my films to determine if a “next step” is required. In my heart I KNOW one is. The certainty of what is happening is heavy on me.
She comes back and confirms that an official ultrasound is now necessary. I must wait for a technician to be available for me to have one so I text Dan to tell him what is happening. He is still in Atlanta sitting on pins and needles of helplessness.
In not too long of time, a young woman asks me to follow her to the next exam room. I laid down on a table to, once again, expose myself to a stranger. Trust me, that particular aspect of exposure does not get any easier within this process.
She begins the ultrasound and I can very easily see what she is doing… what she is measuring… what she is labeling. I tell her that I am an RN who assists with Ultrasound Guided Fine Needle Aspirations and Biopsies and that although I know she cannot technically tell me anything, I can clearly see something IS there.
Her non-verbal communication and eye contact confirms my suspicions.
She tells me that a radiologist is going to come into the room next to talk with me. I laid there alone in the silence of the room for a few moments with my heart beginning to pound faster.
He comes in with her and sits down. I don’t think that is ever a good thing to have happen.
I ask him if I should call my husband to put him on speaker phone to be a part of whatever is about to be said to me and he tells me to wait because he would like to do another ultrasound with the technician before speaking his mind to my husband. I’m encouraged to text him to be ready for a phone call.
The second ultrasound is completed as I watch the screen with them.
The doctor comes back to his chair to have me call Dan. With Dan on the phone, he begins to say words like “biopsy needed”, “we need to see what these suspicious spots are”, and potential “treatment plan” ideas.
Both the doctor and technician are extremely apologetic for having me wait until the next day to get a biopsy done; both wishing they could fit me into today’s schedule. But, it is scheduled for Friday and they leave the room with Dan still on the phone.
What else is there to say to each other at this point?
I love you. It’s going to be alright. I wish I was there. I wish you were here. I’ll see you tomorrow when it is done.
Oh Ali, how did you do this??
I’m supposed to work the next day when the biopsy has been scheduled so I decide it is time to rally my co-workers around me while I see how I can adjust my work-day to accommodate this new “crisis”.
I walk over to Endoscopy and find my support co-worker and ask her to quickly get the other one I lean on. She immediately can tell I’m starting to get visibly upset as the shaking inside of me started to escape my weakening control over it.
In the “privacy” of a storage room it explodes out of me to verbalize what is happening. As I do the panic within surges over top of me.
My friends quickly surround me and offer the comfort only a nurse can give; optimistic yet realistic at the same time. They arrange my schedule and assignment for the next day before sending me home after lots of hugs.
Home.
Dan is not there for safety.
I am alone with a secret I must continue to keep for just a little while longer.
My insides are churning. The acid in my stomach is boiling. The ache in my head is pounding.
I push it down and focus on other people’s needs to get through the evening.
Friday morning I wake up and head to work as if it were just any other day. My co-workers now know so I have a sense of security to feel my feelings of anxiety as I attempt to function in my assignment for the morning until my biopsy at 11 am.
Dan is due to fly home around that same time.
I was put into yet another exam room where the ultrasound technician was going to assist the radiologist with this ultrasound guided biopsy. He walks in and says, very honestly, that these are “concerning” spots but could still be scar tissue so don’t lose hope.
I do not tell him that I have been prepared by the Lord that I WILL be going through this fire…I have a certainty about it.
I watch the biopsy as it is happening: the nurse in me is too curious to not pay attention. I see the needle go directly into the “paint splatter” as well into a 2nd area they wanted to test.
It is over quickly and I am informed that the result, because it is a weekend, will not probably be available until the upcoming Tuesday. As a healthcare professional, I assure them that I am aware of that reality.
They tell me a “nurse navigator” will be calling me as soon as the results are available to speak to me about more “next steps.”
I get dressed to leave for home and wait for my first hug with Dan.
I’ll leave that moment private to myself.
We now have a weekend to endure in silence so plans go into motion of how to fill time without it appearing that is what we are doing. It is interesting how one can compartmentalize something in order to function, don’t you think? We even choose to talk to our son stationed in Washington while serving in the Navy-like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
We had not talked with him in a little while and I did not want the first time we reconnected on the phone to be because I needed to tell him something BIG. I wanted to talk to him just to talk to him and have him talk to us casually for the same reason.
I quickly ended the call though, because all of the sudden I envisioned what we needed to soon tell him and I became overcome with emotion over the mere thought of it.
My love for my son is unmeasurable. The distance between us in mileage feels like too many. The time constraint on travel for a leave is too narrow when someone is in the Navy. A hug of reassurance is a long way off and my arms are aching for him.
On Sunday I determined to start praying that those results would be available on Monday instead of Tuesday. The waiting was HARD. The silence of secrecy was HEAVY. I told the Lord that I did not want to be at work when that “call” came through.
I busied myself on Monday with odd errands. We have a shopping center in Lansing called “Frandor.” I found myself wandering around there until just choosing to sit in my car in its parking lot.
Praise the Lord! My Chart app suddenly alerted me that there was a “new result.”
I called Dan and said that the result was in: would he like me to open it so we could read it together? Was he in a place at work where he could listen and respond as he may need to?
He made himself ready and I opened the app.
Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
What is that, we both wondered?
A quick Google search gave me the confirmation I knew in my heart to be true: cancer.
Oh my God, my God… I have breast cancer.
Lord, help me… I have breast cancer.
Oh Ali, I KNEW it. How can it be that I can’t talk to you about this??? How can you tell us the way to tell our children???
WHAT DO WE DO NOW became the next thought. We HAVE to be together and home was not an option just yet as our precious girl was there: we were NOT ready to tell her or anyone else just yet. We needed to think. We also knew that the nurse navigator was supposed to be calling soon so we chose to do what a normal American would do: we decided to meet at Costco.
As I drove there a wave of numbness came over me in place of the panic that had been held at bay for the weekend. Pulling into the parking lot, a call came in from the hospital. Answering it, I was introduced to this “navigator.”
In a matter of minutes, Dan arrived and climbed into my car as she talked to us about what those results meant and what we can expect to happen in the next few days to weeks. A doctor’s appointment was made with a “team” of specialists to help us determine our staging and what the best course of action will be for me for a week from Thursday.
She says terms like “single mastectomy”, “double mastectomy”, “lumpectomy with radiation.”
We get off the phone with her and sit there quietly together in the parking lot of Costco. The world is bustling around us while ours feels to have slipped off its axis.
I’m deep breathing with my heart pounding.
I say, “this is really happening.”
We hold onto each other as we cry.
It’s time to let our world know.
Others will dress you and take you where you don’t want to go.
What Kind of Peace Is This? 