When getting dressed this morning, I thought to myself as I chose which shirt to wear - this could be the shirt I will always remember as the one I wore when I was told, "You have cancer."
I chose a dark brown cotton v-neck.
The radiologist's nurse had just called me. Her voice coming out of my cell phone said that the radiologist wanted to tell me the biopsy results face-to-face. I said okay, I would come right in.
I pressed END CALL. I sat in my office chair holding the cell phone. Curled forward and cried. Sobbed.
Just for maybe 30 seconds though. For I knew I had to pull it together. I knew I had a battle to fight, but didn't know the size of the enemy army yet. Or even what it looked like. I walked into the next door office, told them why I would be leaving right away. They were speechless. I look back, those poor guys.
So off I went, out the office door, mechanically slid into my blue Mercedes. Off to find out intel on my next mission. One I knew I would have no choice but to accept.
When driving to the radiologist's office, I thought to myself - if its Stage 4 or 5 I will freak out, if its 1, 2, or 3 I can deal with it.
Please God, let it be treatable.
Please God. You see the years ahead. Keep me around for more of them.
Lots more.
The radiologist started off the in-person appointment by asking me how the biopsy site felt? was it bruising? I thought to myself - she's nice, she has bad news to tell me and she's trying to settle me down, build a rapport, and I'm not going to rush her. Keep up the small talk. Delay the moment. Keep it light.
That was 10 AM this morning. The point where before met after.
I am now in the after. About two weeks after.
Ninety-five percent of the time after hearing this news, after 10 AM, I am positive, I am certain God will fix this, I can do this, others have done this, I will learn a lot, others will be helped, God will use this to His glory, others will be touched in ways I will never know, my husband will be right there with me, my sons and daughter-in-law will be encouraging, my friends will be there, I will never be alone, God tells me to be still and know that HE is God.
Then the other five percent of the time I say - this is crazy, this happens to other people not me, I can't do this, its gonna hurt, I don't want to do this, I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS, what if it doesn't work, why me, I have too much life to live, too many places to see, I want to grow old, why did I complain two weeks ago about anything?
I prefer the 95% part much better. If I let myself, I can break down in tears at a second's notice. I don't want to let myself, as I am not sure I want to dawdle too long in the five percent. Am I in denial? No completely. Sort of a healthy denial. I am in survivor mode.... I am doing the things I need to, treating this as if it is happening to someone else not me. The old Third Party treatment. I write down everything, as the brain is a bit fuzzy all day long. I ask the right questions. I have called a referred surgeon and oncologist, have written down exactly the reports they need, and in what format. When I go in for the MRI on Thursday at 1 PM I will take in this piece of paper and get the test results faxed to the right people. I will hand the paper over to the nurse, and I will not remember having written these test names down today. This day will be filed away in my brain as "don't have to remember much" of it.
People have let me talk, let me process, tell the story, as short as it is so far. In a year from now, I will be through this journey, and this will all be a memory. I will read these very words, not remembering writing them I bet. Who will be the stalwart ones who march through with me? I think I know...
My husband looks more upset than I do. That's true love, rejoicing for me and grieving for me. He is positive I will be healed. He is upset for me for how painful and sick I will feel over the next 6 months. That's true love. He tells me he will be with me every step, and I believe him. He will. That is him. He is my rock. He is my rock upon which I will lay my head, on the moss on the rock.
My son in town asks if he can drive with me to hear the radiology report. Wow, you know that is an offer of true love. Who would want to do that?
My son out of town asks what can he do to help. I tell him, keep in touch. Text and e-mail and phone calls. Short ones. Sweet and upbeat. I need to be in touch.
One friend stops by, to hear what's going on, a breast cancer survivor. I am encouraged just seeing her sit there, healthy and happy six years later. Just seeing her. I can't remember a word she said, but I remember totally that she cared enough to come right over. I ran out of words, she and Mike talked, I sat and listened. I needed that.
One friend says she is going to look up Psalms on healing and e-mail me them.
One friend says God will use this for good, and I will never be alone. She will go to doctor's with me, sit with me, do anything for me. I know she will, she is that kind of person.
One friend says I can come over and just go blah, blah, blah anytime I need. She says she knows life isn't perfect and she is strong enough to hear it from me and still be okay. This is amazingly reassuring. I never would have thought to offer that to a friend. What a gift.
So many friends say they are praying for me. I tell them thanks, that is what works. Pray for the doctors to be wise and have clear vision in their diagnoses, that the tests be accurate, and that healing begin. Now. Right now... and thank you. One friend says I am a fighter and of anyone, they know I can win this. It is a battle, isn't it?
One friend calls at 10 PM, to see if I am still okay. I'm being covered with love. Lifted up by prayers. God's hands are evident in the hands of my friends and family.
I stopped in the parking lot at the radiologist, and asked something I have never asked - I wanted a verse. Holy Spirit, what will you bring to me to hold onto through this? I will wait here in this car until you bring a verse to my mind. And, by the way, I am in no rush.
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I AM GOD.
Okay.
Well, since He is God, what have I to fear.....
--
Love is the answer,
At least for most of the questions in my heart... Jack Johnson
