My husband and I were getting dressed to attend the funeral of my best friend’s mom—someone I consider to be a 2nd mom. The phone rang and I recognized the number. Waiting with pent up anticipation, we listened to the pathologist on speaker phone. The pathologist said the words–” malignant”, that’s clinical for cancer. My world froze. We both cried.
You see, in a few short hours, I had to support my BFF in her time of grief, my godchildren, and mourners. I was on the program to read Ecclesiastes 3:1-14. There was no time to fall apart. I did it. I read those verses loudly and with conviction. No one at the funeral knew my inner turmoil except Heston and me. I smiled. Greeted people. Chatted it up. Looking back, now I see the hand of God and His Grace upon my life, even at that horrible diagnosis moment.
How is it that out of 3 scripture readers at the funeral, my friend picked me (well before my diagnosis to read about God’s sovereignty and timing—“a time”. Verse 1: “For everything there is a season…a time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.” His Word, and I didn’t realize it at that surreal time but His word was fortifying me as I read it. Verse 10: “I have seen the burden God has placed on all of us. YET (and that is an important conjunction) God has made EVERYTHING beautiful for its own time. Everything! Even a crisis.
You see, the next day, we were having a big party to celebrate my husband’s birthday. Friends and family were coming from Pittsburgh, New York, Richmond. Heston wanted to cancel it. “How can we have a party and you’ve been diagnosed with cancer? We have to cancel it”, he said. Out of nowhere, a reply came out of my mouth with indignation. “Hell if we are! We are going to have the time of our lives—celebrating life, enjoying time with people we love, people who love us. And we’re not going to be Debbie Downers either.” There I said it. And with that, I took heart to Verse 12: “So I concluded there is NOTHING better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can.”
After getting a treatment recommendation and a second opinion, I discovered that I had hit the jackpot of breast cancer—6 months of chemo, breast and brain surgeries, 6 weeks of radiation and ongoing Herceptin. I had to have it all!
My mottos for my journey have been “keep it moving” and “I’m too busy living to die.” Hair falling out? “Keep it Moving.” Can’t taste my food or get out of bed without help? “Keep it Moving.” Hallelujah, Anyhow!
Allow me to share that this journey has been with a village of people. I am so heartily grateful for the amount of support from people who God has put in my life—my husband, sister, children, mother, line sisters, neighbors, boss, doctors, nurses and complete strangers. Thank you! You prayed for me, fed me, stayed with me during treatments, sent gifts, texts, cards, letters and said encouraging words. You speak life. Thank you! I am so grateful to know how much I am loved. So many people live a lifetime and leave this earth not knowing how much they are loved. And I am. And you are, too.
I started my journey in silence. I did NOT want to tell anyone. I didn’t want Heston to tell anyone either. To say it meant I was admitting my diagnosis and in my mind, God had already told me, through prayer, that I am healed so why go backwards?
I also couldn’t take anyone’s emotional reaction to the news. Too much to handle. Well God laid it on my heart to use spiritual discernment. You know that intuition that tells you who you can share your news with and who you can’t? It’s a sense in your spirit whether someone can be trusted with your most vulnerable state. Eventually, I couldn’t keep it to myself. At first, I ONLY wanted people who were prayer warriors to know—people who would be laying my healing petitions before the Lord. And God guided me. “Tell her.” “Don’t tell her.” The spirit would say. As an example, one day I was in the bathroom at work and a woman complimented my bracelet. We struck up a quick superficial conversation (after all, we were in the ladies room) and the Holy Spirit said, “Tell her you’re on your way to have a breast MRI”. I was super skeptical. “Really, God?”, I asked. I didn’t know her from Adam. Well, I was obedient to the spirit. Do you know we stood in the hallway talking for 15 minutes after that? She is an ovarian cancer survivor. She reassured me, told me what to expect and told me how her journey strengthened her and made her a better person—one now able to forgive people. She said the journey made her uniquely able to pray for cancer patients. I saw her a few weeks later around the office and she said she put my name on her church’s prayer list. She, her husband and family were all praying for me. Me, a stranger. Look at God!
While there’s a spiritual side of me, there’s also a naturally practical side of me too.
As a naturally analytical person, I researched medical study after medical study. I learned as much as I could and asked a ton of questions. I think my oncologist’s staff scheduled my appointments for double the normal time!
That same analytical person I am can’t sit back and do nothing. I changed my diet and my loving husband changed his right along with me and our whole family’s diet. See, he does most of the cooking. He so willingly changed where we shop, what we buy and how we eat—all so that I wouldn’t feel like a leper or outcast. My husband, without complaint started eating stuff I never thought he would, all with such a supportive attitude– Quinoa? Almond Milk? Organic? Non-GMO? You name it, we eat it now. My sister even bought me a VitaMix for fruit and veggie smoothies. Yum!
One part of my journey was especially hard—radiation. It almost took me down. For someone like me who likes control, that everyday appointment under that machine with the plates moving and markings on my skin made me feel like an animal. For six weeks, I had to dig DEEP to get through that—playing meditation music while in the machine and focusing on an end goal.
There are so many people to thank for supporting me on my journey. My sister who stayed with me for hours during chemo and bought me a dress when I gained weight and felt fat and ugly. My youngest son who gave me water and drove me places when I was too wiped out. My eldest, who chides me to relax and be still more. My husband, who fed me by hand when I was too weak to lift a fork and has put up with me—mood swings and demands, with such grace and understanding. The outpatient chemo center’s Chaplain, Rev. Mary, who always appeared seemingly out of nowhere but always at the right time, to encourage me and help me understand the deeper meaning of my journey. My friends who prayed, and sent cards and gifts and flowers and food. My line sister who massaged my bald head with oil. My neighbor who sensed my distress after I washed my wig for the first time and I looked like Medusa—she ran over and flat ironed my wig at 10:00 at night. Each person in her or his own way, showing love and being “right on time”. The nurses who put up with me on con calls for work during chemo. Doctors for their patience with my 10-part questions. The list is too long to name as is yours, I’m sure. I ask God to bless them, and each of you and for Him to keep you in His Amazing Grace during whatever season you’re in. Remember, it is a season and seasons change. Thank you for the opportunity to share my story.