January 13, 2020.
I woke up.
I woke up the morning of my diagnosis with a clear head. My bones knew. We knew we were in for a marathon, not a sprint. Nothing about what would soon be confirmed would be over quickly.
The life I was living, the one where I could not make time for my own health, was about to change forever…
December 9, 2019.
Little did I know, the routine physical (December 9) that I had been putting off and what my Primary Care Physician later described as intuition, (which we both know was absolutely God), would save my life.
See, at 38, I was too young for a typical routine mammogram. In conversation, I shared my Grandma Jo had passed at 80 from breast cancer. She completed my exam and said, “Why don’t you go get a mammogram….and get a 3D one”. She didn’t feel anything, but she still felt I should go.
We would later learn my tumors were so far against my chest wall, they couldn’t be felt through a typical breast exam…
On December 10, in my corporate America uniform red wool jacket, black dress, tights and heels, I drove the 20 miles to the imaging center, in the snow, probably the first of the year.
I remember hastily completing the registration forms and feeling way too stressed/busy to be dealing with this. I briefly remember talking to the tech about the weather and the fact school would likely be delayed tomorrow because of the wet flakes falling outdoors. 20 minutes or so later, I got dressed and went back to my office.
I was at lunch on December 12, having a light hearted Christmas gift exchange with our Nashville team, when I received a message from my PCP that more images were needed of my right breast…
December 16, 2019
I shared the update with a few friends and family. Everyone reassured me that I was going to be fine and it was likely nothing to be concerned about. They shared stories of close calls and I read statistics that supported the stories. Most people that had been through a similar experience had learned they had dense or lumpy breasts. Some learned they had cysts, and in all but one instance, they had been benign.
So, with wet hair, flip flops, yoga pants and my “This is my Hallmark Christmas movie watching shirt”, I headed in for an early morning ultrasound on December 16. My hubby offered to go with me, and I told him no way, it’s no big deal and I won’t know anything anyway.
I read the orders while I waited. I took a picture – Rt Breast Focal asymmetry. I went into the room and had a wonderful talk with the ultrasound technician while she honed in on a spot right above my rib. I looked to the side and saw the screen. Staring back at me, looked like a black walnut, with jagged edges. As I sat up, she said, go ahead and get dressed, the doctor will be with you shortly…
December 16, 2019.
I let out a breath, scooted off the table and into my clothes. My relaxed attitude suddenly felt misplaced. Here I was, in a dimly lit room with half dry hair and zero makeup, on a hard plastic chair, alone. It was barely 8 AM. The thought crossed my mind that this was like the movies. Is this really how people find out they have cancer? Surely not. How stupid I felt for going to the appointment alone.
I said a prayer asking for peace, Phillipians 4: 6-7, Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
The radiologist introduced himself and explained he had brought me back in because there was an area deep against my chest wall that was likely a cyst, however to be certain, a biopsy was needed. He explained that he would be the one to do the procedure and that we would complete it within the next few weeks around the holidays. He told me not to worry. With hot tears beginning to sting my eyes, I told him, I do not worry…In reality, that was probably just as much a reminder for me, as it was information for him.
I blinked back the tears that burned and crept closer to the surface, nodded in agreement of the plan, left the office and made my way to my car to head home.
As I drove away from the building, one tear of fear fell down my right cheek…
December 16, 2019.
I wiped my cheek and called J. He and my Mom were at home. I was suddenly very thankful that he hadn’t listened to me when I dismissed his comment that he would wait until I was back from my appointment to head to the office.
I told J and my Mom the news and although I could see a bit of shock on their faces, my Mom shared she was thankful they were going to stay on top of it. J’s concern was in his brow, his pursed lips and crossed arms. He hugged me and told me he loved me and reassured me we would get through this next step together.
I also had a sense of peace. I was beginning to believe that it was going to be ok. No matter what the outcome, it was going to be okay. I know God wants us to prosper. Jeremiah 29:11….
December 16, 2019.
I headed for the office and got busy into my work day. Partway through my day, I received a message from my PCP’s office saying they had spoken with the radiologist and would prefer I see a doctor, a breast surgeon at a hospital just down the road from my house. When they called me that day to schedule, they said it would be after the new year due to the holidays and previously scheduled vacation.
I was confused. Why would I need to switch both hospitals and physicians? Why would I have to wait so long to get in? I just wanted answers and wanted to push so hard to just get it over with. I was agitated….
Over the years, I have learned that when I feel this way or want to push so hard to make something happen against the normal course, it is usually a rock I wish would have left unturned. Remembering this, I accepted an appointment for the morning of January 9, 2020….
The next few weeks went by relatively smoothly. We had a beautiful Christmas and spent time in Illinois with family after the holiday. We welcomed a new puppy, Charlie, into our lives as a Christmas gift to the girls and rang in the new year with close friends. J and I celebrated 16 years of marriage on January 3 and spent the days before my appointment having a “framily” weekend with friends.
The morning of January 9, 2020 had arrived. J and I dropped the girls at school and made our way down Central Pike to meet with Dr. M. In the visitor parking lot, we held hands and J said a prayer for us.
We had the first appointment of the day. As we sat in the room on the second floor of the hospital, I scribbled in my registration forms while HGTV played in the background.
As my name was called, I patted J on the arm and said, Alright, I’ll see you in a few.
He moved as to go with me and I said, No, I’m good. I’ll be fine. Love you.
And off I went…
January 9, 2020
In the exam room, Dr. M asked me a series of questions….Had I felt a lump? Did my Primary Care Physician feel something? What was my family history? …then she performed my exam. She was very quiet and went back to her notes. She then scooted over to the ultrasound machine and said, Let’s see if we can see what they saw.
I remember telling her in a bit of nervous laughter, that the area was almost on my rib. She checked her notes again and then… sure enough. There was the same jagged walnut like blob staring back at me.
In her quiet, confident tone, she told me she agreed with the radiologist’s initial assessment. The area of question had indeterminate features. The edges were not totally smooth, they were jagged. She was also unsure whether it was cystic or solid. She recommended we attempt a biopsy. If the area was cystic and fluid filled, we would drain it and if not, we would biopsy.
I was agreeable. Almost apologetic for taking up her time, certain it would likely be something we could rectify in that appointment. Surely….
January 9, 2020.
The team readied the room. As I waited on the exam table, she turned and asked whether I wanted my husband to join me. I said, No, it’s fine. Then, I said, well…maybe.
Two nurses, the doctor and my husband flanked my sides in the dark, quiet room. Dr. M explained the procedure. She would perform an ultrasound guided core needle biopsy.
Once she located the area with the needle, I saw the team shift and begin readying materials for the next step. She confirmed it was a solid mass. I couldn’t see J’s face, but I knew he was following intently.
The biopsy was five samples. Each time the trigger went off extracting the tissue, it made a hollow popping sound in the room. Dr. M commented on how particularly loud it was that day.
A continuous learner, I watched and followed along with the steps. Noticing my peeked interest, Dr M stopped and asked me, OK, what do you do for a living?! I explained about studying microbiology in college and we had a little laugh.
And just like that, we were down to the facts. After today, there would no longer be any maybes, any hypothetical situations, any guessing. It was either cancer or it wasn’t….
January 9, 2020.
In the parking lot, J and I just kind of sat there looking at the gray sky. We were both a bit dazed by what had all just transpired. I remember looking at the clock when we got back in the car and being surprised that only an hour and a half had passed by since we hurried into the hospital. It had felt like years could have gone by in those 90 minutes.
We started to pull away and head towards home. We got on the phone with my parents and gave them the update over speakerphone. Mom asked me how I felt and I said honestly and clearly, Well, I’m pretty certain I have cancer. And if I do, it’s going to be okay. I don’t know what that means or what that looks like, but whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. And I really believed that. I still do….
January 10, 2020.
Under my exterior, I had a lot of peace and calm. Not a sense yet of forlorn or worry, but more of pacing. I recognized the calmness as a bit odd. It wasn’t denial, although I could see how people could characterize it that way. Deep down in my core, I knew this was a marathon, not a sprint.
I felt just as strongly, that the Lord was going to see me through this. Whatever would come my way, the Lord already knew. He would help me. I just needed to Be Still….
January 11 & 12, 2020
I spent the next few days busy with work and life. I tried to keep my mind and body active. We went to church on Saturday and spent the rest of the weekend purging and organizing our closets and eating Hibachi with friends.
Everyone around me who knew what was happening, was very encouraging and reassuring. The statistics all said the likelihood of it actually being cancer were low – around 20%. I had Googled the question myself.
But, I think I just knew. I only admitted that to a few people. Until it was confirmed, it was all just speculation. Any time spent worrying or playing out scenarios in my head were a waste of time and energy. I knew better….
January 13, 2020
I woke up on Monday morning, January 13. I took my girls to school and headed into the office. I jumped into my day and was sitting in my bright office full of sunshine and green plants, when I answered a text from a friend and former colleague whom I hadn’t chatted with since before Christmas. I shared that I had a biopsy and was waiting on the results. I said, I’m sure it’s nothing, but we’ll see. She texted back how sorry she was and that she would pray right then.That was at 11:48 AM.
I had just turned back to my computer when my phone rang. It was 11:49 AM…
January 13, 2020 11:49 AM
I didn’t recognize the number, only that it was an Atlanta area code. I answered and heard Dr. M on the other end. I was facing the parking lot with my office door shut, when she asked if we could talk.
I’m sure I didn’t let out another breath until after I heard her say, ‘it’s cancer’.
Exhale….
January 13, 2020
Well, there it was.
There was no drumroll.
No build up.
One minute, I didn’t have cancer.
And in the next…
…I did.
How quickly life can change…
January 13, 2020
I stared out the window for another few minutes and then looked down to my phone to call J.
I didn’t know what to do…who to tell, what to say….where to go. The shock and disbelief I felt in that moment were like nothing I had experienced before.
I don’t remember what he said, but I remember the pain in his voice when I told him what I knew thus far. We didn’t know anything yet about subtypes or grades or stage or any types of details. We only knew that it was cancer.
The whole wide world of possibilities wiped through my brain like a tidal wave….
January 13, 2020
When the call came, there was no warning. The phone simply rang. There were only the facts. Cold, sterile facts.
Shock and disbelief washed against the acknowledgement and knowing inside of me.
I began to tremble. My jaw set into a sad firmness that it was unaccustomed to. The tears burned and filled behind my closed eyes.
I gave into it. I let out the tears and redness. The fear, the anger, the sad….all found their way to the surface and out of my eyes.
Suddenly I felt as though cancer wasn’t something that happened to most people. Most people would have been in the 80%, not the 20%. Faces and stories flashed through my brain and I felt very isolated, very quickly.
I went numb…
January 13, 2020
I hastily dried my eyes and closed my computer. I gathered my things and walked to my car.
I called J and said I was on my way home. He was already halfway to my office. He too didn’t know what to do, so he got in his car and was driving to me.
We both headed for home separately. On the way, I called my parents, one of my best friends and my boss. I don’t remember much of what they said in those conversations, only that there was shock, concern and compassion in each of their voices as I shared what I knew.
J and I spent the next few hours in tears, quiet and hopeful conversations and many prayers. We called family members and close friends and shared the news together.
Again, the resounding knowledge that everything was going to be ok and to not have fear, settled into my soul. I did not, and frankly still don’t, know what ok meant, but I knew not to be fearful. A sense of peace and strength built inside of me….
January 14, 2020.
I spent the next day working from home. I was anticipating the call for an MRI and just didn’t want to have to face people.
Since so few people knew, including our girls, I could still pretend it wasn’t real.
I looked the same. I felt the same. I sounded the same. I still could not feel a mass.
Yet, I was very different….
January 15, 2020
I was scheduled to see Dr. M again on Thursday. I would have a bilateral MRI prior to that appointment. The MRI would give a more detailed look at what was going on and the extent of the cancer.
I got the call Wednesday morning that I was scheduled for that afternoon. I made my way alone (per my insistence) to the office building for the scan. It was about a block behind J’s Nashville office in a small, grey building with 70s decor. It was cold and rainy afternoon. J met me in the parking lot once it was over. I think we were both going through the motions.
I kept downplaying it all though. I was sure I could probably have like a “drive-thru” treatment, where I could just swing in, get my cure and be back to work and life. It wouldn’t be a big deal for any of us and I would be totally fine. Probably no reason to tell the kids even. It’s not like I would lose my hair or anything. Surely, I didn’t have it that bad. I was tough and strong and driven.
Cancer like that happened to other people, but not me. Not in my thirties. Not with a five and seven year old…
January 16, 2020
J and I both had relatively normal mornings at work. The girls were both in school, still unaware my news. We wrapped up our work and made our way to the hospital together.
We rode the elevator to the second floor. We had already made connections with the nurses in the office, so we all exchanged bright greetings and filled the time with chit chat while we waited for our turn. This time, J joined me and we walked hand in hand down the hall, back to the exam room.
Although there were nerves, there was a sense of peace and calm….
January 16, 2020
We settled into our respective places in the room. J was to my right and Dr. M in front of us. She pulled out her notepad and drew the outline of a woman’s breast. She then drew two smaller circles. These were the tumors. The MRI had revealed two tumors of similar size.
She proceeded to outline the details of my cancer. (I had no idea there were so many subtypes of breast cancer!!)
She explained the proposed treatment plan…. chemotherapy, surgery, potentially radiation and Tamoxifen. She discussed the benefits of starting with chemo over surgery. She explained based on the details of my cancer, it was important we were attacking the body, as opposed to the breast.
I asked if I would lose my hair. She closed her eyes and nodded her head, ‘yes’….
January 16, 2020
Intellectually, I followed along. I processed what she was saying. Emotionally however, I was closed off. Until I turned to look at J…
He hadn’t expected this. Neither of us had. I could see the heartache and shock on his face. The weight of the situation landed in our lap.
We finished our conversation and Dr. M left the room. In the wings, was our Nurse Navigator from the Cancer Center. She sat down and explained that she was there to answer any questions and help shepherd us through this journey we were embarking on.
I looked in J’s now sad eyes and we both asked for help and resources on how to best handle telling the girls.
We hadn’t thought we would even need to tell them. We hadn’t expected to be at this moment, trying to collect our thoughts on what to ask…the only thought in my mind was our girls….
In the quiet, our new reality visited my thoughts. As my family slept, I searched for information, read scripture and articles, re-read stories of friends and family and strangers who had been down this path.
It felt almost like trying on new skin. I was beginning to accept this as a part of me now. A sense of empowerment and peace was growing within me. I just knew that there would be something beautiful on the other side of all of this. I had no clue what that may be, but there was going to be good that came from this.
I was hopeful. Possibly even a bit enlivened about what that meant for the rest of my life. There had to be a bigger purpose for why I was walking through this season.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ( Jeremiah 29:11)
I have worked Every.Single.Day to keep that in the forefront of my brain. In front of the pain, the sick, the sadness, the fatigue, the lost moments…I am working to accept the metamorphosis that is occurring. I am walking through crowds slowly. I am putting my faith in the Lord and trusting that His word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105….
January 16, 2020
Our two bright, blonde headed, blue eyed, carefree little girls. They weren’t supposed to have to walk through the emotions that this was going to offer them. Certainly not at such a young age. Most definitely not at the hands of their Momma.
The sadness built within me. All I knew to do was pray. I was powerless without it….
The day we told the girls was also the 100th day of school. The little one was totally into it. She bought a wig and glasses….she planned the whole shtick. We had an absolutely bright, hilarious morning full of laughter as we drove them to school as a family.
That evening, we sat together on the floor in our living room. The girls had been watching Alexa and Katie on Netflix. For the past few months, the girls had been watching Alexa go through cancer treatments, recovery, go to school, laugh, cry, get into trouble….just live. It served as not only as an influence on their fashion and style, but also as their introduction to cancer.
We used it as a reference point for them, as we shared the news together.
Yes, there were tears. There were quizzical looks coming from their eyes. There was fear of the unknown and there was prayer.
And there was also this…
After our conversation, the little one came and gave me a tight hug. I was on my knees and her arms on my shoulders. In a small, but confident voice, she said…I know God didn’t do this to you, Mommy. This is just something that happened.
Those softly spoken words stood so tall and large in my heart. I knew we were going to be okay.
Most of the sadness and tears I have felt have been rooted in envisioning the days that I may someday miss. I have recognized that the thing that made me the saddest was missing out.
Spending time feeling badly and lost in those what ifs, was stealing time from what was…the right now…the opportunity when I could make memories with my family. None of us know what the future holds. Time spent worrying or feeling sad about the maybes doesn’t get us diddly squat. We have actual, tangible opportunities right in front of us to choose to do something good, instead of bad or sad or worry. I choose to feel good. To feel better. To make the memories. To feel grateful and optimistic….
