Opening the Door to a Whole New Me

Hearing those words, "You have cancer", is a moment in your life when the world literally stops and you shake your head and say, "No. Not me. Please, not me!" 

You have done everything right. You never smoked. You do not drink. You don't do drugs, don't even take prescription medications, just vitamins. You eat healthy. You exercise regularly, riding your bike and walking the dog while visiting with the neighbors you meet. You attend church. You say your morning and bedtime prayers. You are kind to others. You live to make a difference in this crazy world today. "Please, Lord, not me!" What makes it real is telling your husband.

 I cannot explain how numb I felt. I cannot explain how my 'self' went into a spinning, exploding, shaking state of disbelief. I was suddenly into a whirlwind of 'what ifs' that looking back were meaningless. But I will tell you that we ladies go there: what if I can't handle this? what if my husband won't love me anymore? what if I die? Interestingly, I could not cry. This was like a state of total and utter shock. My hubby - so you know - handled it well.

Together we decided we like to face life head on. So, I decided to process this whole business very carefully, dealing with facts and letting go of what-ifs. I read every lab report submitted to my primary physician through the patient portal. Before long, I knew my diagnosis before meeting with the surgeon: Invasive ductal Her2 aggressive breast cancer. Yuck!

Well, the medical world quickly catches you up into medical tests that force you into reality. There are blood tests for genetic testing. There are ultrasounds, core biopsies, a breast MRI, a PET Scan, and an echocardiogram. Then the installation of a mediport so you can be plugged in like an electric car and revved up with chemotherapy. (And no, I do not have the gene that predisposes me to breast cancer. Yahoo! A gift to the family.)

My treatment is chemotherapy first, hoping to shrink the tumor to nothing. Doctor is fearful that if they did surgery first they would miss something that could then return as cancer yet again. Mind you, every treatment for each one of us is totally different. We are all affected in different ways with cancer popping up wherever it chooses to create havoc. 

I finally started to cry - during the core biopsy of a lymph node  - and I couldn't stop. The nurses were so loving and caring. Today I call them angels. They nursed me through that sob session and later called me to say there was no cancer in the lymph node. Hallelujah! I have easily cried ever since. 

I have also turned the radio off in the car. Aside from my morning and evening prayers and  meditation time, I converse with God in the car. Sounds funny, doesn't it? All the way to work and home again, we talk. Anytime I run errands, car time is my quiet God time. 

I'm sounding like John Denver now - LOL - but car time is part of my search for peace. By opening myself to a new and better me, peace and acceptance of this new reality is surrounding me with an unexplainable love that comes from friends, family, and the arms that Jesus once used to calm distraught individuals. 

I now say, "Lord, why not me" because this experience is guiding me into a deep, spiritual oneness with God that I never knew existed. It is balancing my spiritual self with my emotional and physical self. And in all of that, I am finding joy, a joy that let's me appreciate humor and receive love from amazing folks like you.

Thankfully, the quilting cancer girl