Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
Stage 2.
I'm a 38 year old single mother of 2 and I have breast cancer.
My previous post communicates my desire to live outside the status quo; challenge my own need for safety and security; live inside wonderful, risky extremes that have the capacity to positively impact the world around me.
Wellllll.....I suspect that living this journey so publicly is an example of my attempting to live out that challenge. (However, I would have much preferred to have found another way to do so.)
I'll start...from the start of this insane and ongoing event.
I found a lump about a month ago. Honestly, because I had never felt anything like it and because it seemed so large, I asked for prayer from a few trusted friends, made my doctors appt and set it aside in my mind as some weird cyst; sure to be hormone related; probably just my aging body; likely to resolve on its own.
My ob/gyn is Nathen Wegner. He has managed my high risk pregnancies, delivered my children and has never been anything but totally transparent. I love him and trust him completely.
The look on his face during the exam was enough to make me transition my thinking from 'gonna resolve on it's own' to 'oh God...could this really be something to worry about? I'm 38! My boys need me! I have a job! A big crazy and awesome job and people depending on me! Could this really be happening?'
Next day: 3D mammogram and ultrasound.
Not terribly unpleasant procedures, but not awesome. The images from the perspective of the radiologist were 'suspicious'. I heard him. I understood. I didn't cry. I smiled and nodded and said ok. I asked about the next steps. And, as it must have seemed to him that I didn't understand the gravity of the situation, he uncrossed his legs, leaned in toward me a bit, and restated, " The masses are suspicious. It's almost certain that they are malignant. Cancerous."........
I'd understood him the first time. But the fact that he felt he needed to leave me with that level of certainty....was....terrifying. I nodded. Tears fell silently as I thanked him and shook his hand. And, because I was not going to allow this unnamed, suspicious 'thing' to paralyze me, I got dressed, fixed my face and left the room.
Two days later: needle biopsy.
Not a terribly unpleasant procedure, but not awesome.
What I remember most about it was the fear. Before the doctor came in. Alone in the room. So many uncertainties. I read and re-read 1 John 4:18 '....there is no fear in love. His perfect love casts out all fear... ' and I prayed....begged Jesus for a level of fearlessness I had never in my life felt a need for.
I wanted to be saved from this. I wanted my family to be saved from this. BUT if His will was that this be allowed to take place, please Jesus, take this fear from me.
And He has. He takes it, daily, every time I ask. And when I don't ask, and I get stuck in my all-to-familiar default "I can do this myself" mode, the fear comes back....with blinding force that I can only describe as crippling. And the tears come. A silent, faithful reminder of my humanity, frailty, and brokenness. And in those moments....He speaks to me. The moments when life brings me to my knees are those when I ALWAYS have an encounter with Jesus. My Father. My creator. Too big to be fully understood but so involved in the smallest details of my life and so concerned with the condition of my heart. And when He shows up, I can breathe again. The tears stop and I keep moving forward.
Results from the biopsy: Invasive Ductal Carcinoma and Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. One of the most common forms of breast cancer.
I still have questions. Lots of them. And I've never been a lover of, wearer of, appreciator of pink...anything.
But...the color is starting to grow on me.
