I should have been getting mammograms every year at my age. But I had put it off and put it off because, well, it hurt. A lot. I used to be in tears while enduring it. Sorry if that’s TMI. The machines are so much better now, thankfully, and I get mammos regularly. Well, I sort of have no choice. But they are not inspiring.
As I was doing a breast self-exam in the shower sometime in 2009, I thought I felt a little lump. But I ignored it. It probably was nothing. After a few months I thought, you know, it’s been a couple of years since I’ve had a mammo, I should probably grit my teeth, buck up and get one. So I scheduled it in mid-November, not really even thinking about that small lump I had felt months earlier. Apparently, though, my subconscious mind had my back.
Turns out it had been 3 years—long enough for a tumor to grow and show up as a stellate shadow on the mammogram. Yes, I had to look it up—it just means star-shaped, but I found out that’s not good.
The tech called the doctor and the doctor said I needed an immediate ultrasound. I called my husband and he soon arrived. (So…the kiddie song about the monkeys jumping on the bed just popped into my mind: Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, “no more monkeys jumping on the bed.” The tech called the doctor and the doctor said…. 😂).
From the ultrasound I went to right to X-ray, then within a couple of days I had a biopsy. My family doctor told me he’d call when the results came in. It was the Friday before he was taking Thanksgiving vacation; but he said if the test results came in while he was off, he would come in anyway and give me the results in person. I think he must have suspected it would all come back positive for cancer.
My younger daughter was home from college for the week, and she went with my husband and me on Monday when the doctor did call us to come in.
At age 58, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a shock for all of us. All I could think about was all those boxes we checked (so many!) on medical questionnaires because someone in our family has had the illness, disease, or syndrome…except breast cancer…so far. Now all the females in the family have to check that box, too, and I’m the one responsible. A little random, but that was where my mind went. There were tears, yes, and then our doctor recommended an oncologist who “took on cancer as a personal vendetta.” That was what I wanted. I wanted a doctor who would fight with me and for me.
At the same time, I thought about my friend Debbie, a girl I had taught in the high school girls’ class at church when I was just out of college. She had bravely fought cancer that metastasized from her breast to her brain, and it had beaten her earlier that year. She was so incredibly positive and smiling every time I saw her, even as you could tell cancer was ravaging her body. She was a preacher’s wife, and she continued to be involved in as many church activities as possible until the disease took her earthly life. I have full confidence that she received her reward of living with God forever, and that I will see her again some day. She was my hero, and one of my first determinations on learning that I had cancer was that I wanted to try to be the same type of positive example that she was, fighting the disease with grace and faith, inspiring and encouraging those around her even as the disease overtook her.
When I was a teenager, I heard of a man named Norman Cousins who was making a big splash in the news because he had a debilitating, painful, terminal condition that he had decided to cope with by using positivity and “belly-rippling laughter” (and huge doses of vitamin C, but I didn’t remember that). It helped ease his pain and allowed him to sleep, and eventually he actually recovered from his illness. His premise and belief was that a positive attitude and laughter play a huge part in healing—something that we know now to be true. I never read the books he wrote, and didn’t remember any details, but the concept made a lasting impact on me. And of course, let’s not forget that it’s first and foremost a Biblical concept. Obviously it’s not a guarantee of healing, but I had decided decades ago that if I ever got cancer or any other serious illness, I wanted to face it with faith, prayers, and laughter. See how far ahead I had planned? I was prepared for this battle!
A cheerful heart is good medicine...
Proverbs 17:22
As I recalled, Norman Cousins watched funny movies like The Three Stooges all day long. I really can’t stand that kind of in-your-face hurting-each-other slapstick humor, but America’s Funniest Home Videos always made me laugh out loud, so that was my plan of action. Along with prayer, my first line of defense, of course.
Meanwhile, our other daughter was 2,000 miles away preparing to spend Thanksgiving with friends. Of course we called to tell her, as well as all our extended family and church families. I wasn’t going to fight this alone—I wanted all the prayers I could get. My sister and her husband did mission work, and people all over the world were praying for me.
My whole local-area family was together two days later playing games, trying to maintain normality, when our older daughter called. I put her on speaker and she joined in the word guessing in our Catchphrase game. I think we were laughing at the younger generation making fun of us oldies for always playing the same game, when the doorbell rang. My niece opened the door, and to my utter astonishment, our daughter was standing on the threshold! It was so unexpected and surreal that it didn’t compute at first.
She had driven straight through as soon as she heard the news, 2,000 miles in 36 hours. It was an amazing gift, and it shocked the daylights out of me! I was truly thankful and blessed to have both my daughters and so many of my family around me as we absorbed all that might be happening in the near future. We laughed and cried and prayed together. I am so grateful for their support and encouragement and love.
My next appointment would be with the oncological surgeon.
(Read Part 2 here)
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