I am too smart for my own britches. Have always been. Probably will always be. A blessing and a curse, I read my diagnosis in my hospital’s electronic MyChart five or so days before my surgeon had a chance to bring me in to talk about my biopsy results. Big bold letters, Invasive Metastatic Breast Cancer = Stage 2 to Stage 3…. and a bunch of mumble jumble about hormone receptors and on and on.
Panic stricken, I did would any good patient would do…. I didn’t call my doctor…. I went straight to the internet.
Wasn’t showing too much brain on that one was I?
While the internet is full of great information, ( but only if you stick to national sites dedicated to cancer research and helps) I found myself drawn to my version of the “dark web.” I found every scientific thing on the planet that spelled doom and gloom. Horror stories and every memorial available. If that were not enough, the commercials on TV … (you know the ones…. “side effects include” every list of death imaginable) kept screaming at me “metastatic is relentless.”
By the time I got to Dr. Misti’s office (she is the greatest by the way), I had already planned my funeral (more about that another day). I brought my husband, my mother-in-love (she is too great to be an in-law) and my “always there” auntie with me, so Dr. Misti could verbalize the extent of my bad news without me having to do it.
“Oh, I am pretty sure we can fix this!”
Her casualness and chipper demeanor took me aback. This surely was not the drama filled meeting I had been rehearsing in my head for days. I saw my family smile and draw sighs of relief. My mother-in-love promised Doc a big pan of cinnamon rolls if she kept her word.
I on the other hand was totally confused and started off my list of but, but, buts.
Firstly, Dr. Misti was furious that my results had been released to me before she could sign off on them. We both agreed that was a tool of satan to mess my head up. He won that round. Had me dead without dying.
Secondly, she explained that while my treatment plan would not be easy, that I would be facing surgery, chemo, radiation and years of hormone therapies, however, INVASIVE metastatic did not mean that I had been INVADED. That a staging of 2 to 3, while more to deal with than a 1, did not necessarily mean death before God’s timing was on the horizon. And finally, the hormone stuff that I did not quite understand…. she said the hormone/biological gene patterns I had, while though they made me a target for breast cancer in the first place, they were also the kind to have. Basically, I was made to beat this.
If you have not figured it out yet, Catholic hospital with a soft hearted Christian surgeon. She prayed with our family before we left that day. My auntie blessed her hands. My mother-in-love was already working on the frostings in her mind. My husband tried to hide the fact that he “was leaking” as men who do not cry call it.
In the months, that have followed, I have repeated over and over, ” it aint easy, but it’s worth it.” Something I adopted after my son received his long awaited kidney transplant exactly 9 birthing months before I received the cancer diagnosis.
I have since had the tumor that I never felt removed. It was the size of the average ping pong ball. It was clean and tight, which was very much in my favor. I didn’t do any kind of reconstruction because the concave in my breast is not horribly huge and at my age and weight, I don’t wear bikinis anyway. ( You can laugh, I want you to. )
The invasive metastatic part is that it spread to my lymph nodes.
Invasive- meaning moving.
Metastatic – meaning attached elsewhere.
Lots of weird and sometimes scary testing proved that breast cancer (which does not travel by blood but by lymph fluid) had not appeared anywhere else in my body. All of my lymph nodes under my left arm have now been removed. Only two of the 7 tested showed cancer. One fully and one in early staging. Consequently, a huge scar where my armpit used to be. I now have to use deodorant in the form of a crystal ….. it actually works, I don’t stink.. My range of motion is not fully back yet, had some nerve damage in complication, and I have only driven twice in the past few months. Still hurts sometimes and getting used to an altered body sometimes has me walking in to door frames where I never had before. ( You can laugh here too. I want you to).
I won’t lie. Chemo sucks. I will detail that more another day. It is an aint easy but worth it moment.
Long story short, the only thing that was invaded last September, was my mind. I allowed a trick of the enemy to “steal, kill and destroy” all my hopes, dreams and plans for the future for a few short days. Just enough so that if I had not had God in me, I probably would have jumped from a bridge in fear.
You see, the enemy uses his taunts to make a lot of us lose the game before it’s played. The children of Israel had lost the battle with Goliath in their mind long before a spear was even thrown. He taunted them day and night with words and they caved in. It wasn’t until David came armed with the Word of God and a belief that the Host of the Armies was with him, that Goliath went down like a rock because of a rock. (1st Samuel Chapter 17)
I wish I could say I felt like David every day. The enemy really loves to whisper when the pain sets in or when I have been unable to eat for 3 or 4 days. Body snatched is what we call it. However, I am a lot more careful to make sure my mind does not get snatched with it.
Dr. Misti’s reassurances armed me with three especially smooth stones:
1. Guard Your Heart And Mind with the right information. The Word of God rightly divided and the word of experts rightly interpreted.
2. God has a plan for me as long as I focus. The enemy can only taunt me if I choose to believe. I can always fight back with the truth.
3. After two procedures and two pans of cinnamon rolls, Dr. Misti is addicted to my mother-in-love’s promises. She will always work hard to keep her “fixing” reward! LOL.
Until next time, LIVE, LIVE LIVE ON PURPOSE.