After hearing my biopsy results, I was excited as one could
possibly be while dealing with cancer, by the news that I “most likely” would
not have to have chemotherapy. This was based on the type and size of the
cancer I had. Of course, we would not know for sure until after the surgery,
but my surgeon was very optimistic that I would not need chemotherapy. After everything I knew about the side
effects of chemotherapy and seeing first hand my patients go through the tough
days of chemo, I knew that if I did not have to have chemotherapy that alone
was a great blessing. Chemo is not for the weak for sure. If you have not
witnessed a close friend or family member go through the effects of chemo, you
have no idea of the strength and determination these women possess. I have such
an admiration for them.
An interesting thing I noticed after being diagnosed with
cancer is you tend to become overly sensitive to words and meanings, especially
words used by medical professionals. One day I was discussing my pre-surgical
visit with my oncologist, who I just also happened to work with at the time. Although you typically don’t see an oncologist
before surgery, I wanted to get her advice and input. She had already reviewed
by records. She suggested we make all my appointments at one of our smaller
offices. She said, “Why don’t we just
plan on doing everything there, since we are not as busy”. For most people, those words would not have meant
much, but in my line of work, “everything” meant “EVERYTHING” and “EVERYTHING”
meant chemotherapy. My heart began to race and I began to feel this
overwhelming sense of panic as I thought, “She thinks I’m going to have to have
chemotherapy. Why would she think
that? She must think they will find something
worse during surgery”. Most people would have clarified their questions at that
time, but I just let her walk off. The fear of hearing something I didn’t want
to hear was greater than my need to get clarification. I was afraid what her
answer would confirm.
As my sense of panic continued, my thoughts continued to
race in my mind. I was thinking about my upcoming surgery, the emotional impact
of a mastectomy, the pain after surgery, the process of reconstructive surgery,
and now the possibility of adding chemo into the picture. When I
rationally looked at what my reasons for dreading chemotherapy were, it seemed initially
my concern was focused on the hair loss. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that in
addition to the nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, bone aching, mouth sores, taste
changes, skin rashes and on and on.
Again, sometimes as a nurse, you can know too much.
Looking deeper into what
the issue might have been, I realized it was not necessary about hair loss only,
but is about loss… It was about losing a breast, losing hair, and mostly for
me, losing control of my life.
Since I was at work that day, I realized I needed to gather
my thoughts for the day and get to a more rational state of mind. I was doing pretty well until I had two more
experiences that day that literally caused me to hit rock bottom… the lowest
point I had been to since finding out I had breast cancer. It began when I met with
a 34 year old woman who had been such a trooper throughout her entire chemo treatment
and radiation. When I would see her in the treatment room, no matter how bad
she felt, she was always very upbeat and positive. She was always encouraging other
patients who were not doing well. She and I were meeting that day to talk about
survivorship, a term used for issues dealing with life after cancer. As a nurse
practitioner, I usually met with patients after they completed treatment to
discuss several issues related to survivorship, such as diet, exercise, the
importance of regular follow-up, etc. She smiled and listened attentively. She had
no questions, but her husband said he had several. He asked me “How will we
know for sure it is gone? How will we
know if it comes back? They didn’t find
it on the mammogram, so how can we be sure, it won’t come back”. The uncertainty about his wife’s future
continued in his questions. I began to feel my emotions take over. Now I could truly
empathize with this couple, because I had the same thoughts. I knew at some point I would be asking these
same questions. I knew for the rest of
my life, I would have to deal with the fear a possible recurrence. How would I do that?
After that visit, I went back to my desk and looked at my
schedule and saw I would be seeing a patient as a work-in visit. It was Michael. “On no”, I thought. “I don’t think I can handle this, Lord”, I
prayed. “Why today of all days? Why Michael.”
I had grown very close to him. It was hard seeing him that
day… losing weight, in a wheelchair, learning about his falls at home as his weakness
continued to increase. It was hard seeing his wife so weary in appearance. Her
face showed the strain of caring for a dying husband. He had been battling
melanoma for some time. I told him most likely his cancer was worsening, which
was causing the swelling in his brain, which was the reason for the weakness in
his legs and his inability to walk. During our visit, his wife left the room to
answer a call. Once she was gone, he asked “Is this how it’s going to be? Tell me what I can expect to happen? I need to know how it’s going to be”. I thought, “Lord, why is this happening today”?
We talked and I tried to prepare him the best I knew how from a medical
standpoint for what he was facing. I was
amazed at his sense of peace. How could he have such peace in his situation? He had lived a life I personally witnessed as
one lived for Christ. He openly expressed his trust and faith. He loved and trusted
God. He knew that leaving this world
would be hard, but he was going to a place much better… a place where cancer
does not exist.
I left work that day, weary both physically and emotionally,
and questioning God about many things.
“Why is a good person dying? Why do people have to suffer? Why is life so unfair? Why is there cancer? Why did I get cancer? Why? Why? Why? The boys and Jeff were at church that
night. I went home and lay in bed and
sobbed. I cried for Michael, I cried for all my patients who lived with cancer
and those who had died of cancer, I cried for myself. When Jeff came home that night, I was in such
a state of despair. I was really inconsolable.
He suggested I soak in the tub. I grabbed a magazine on the way. I lay in the
tub and picked up the magazine which was a devotional I subscribe to by David
Jeremiah. I had a stack of about ten of these devotionals that I had still yet
to read. The title of the devotional was “Perfect Piece”. I thought “PEACE” is
really what I need now. I turned the page and read the following words,
“Only God is able to take decades of pieces from our
experiences and create a garment of beauty, purpose, and uniqueness”
“We wouldn’t get where God intends us to go without
adversity”.
“He designs every stitch of our time and every patch of our
lives, weaving and sewing them together until He has made of us something
beautiful in His eyes”.
“We have a Savior who can weave a garment of praise from the
torn scrapes, ragged remnants, and tangled threads of life. “
“Our lives are in the hands of a skillful Weaver, who can
use the roughest of materials to make the most glorious of garments”.
It was as if God was clearly speaking to me. He was going to
use this ragged remnant called cancer and turn it into a glorious garment that
would ultimately glorify Him. He designed this day, this moment, this very
event in my life for a purpose, and I knew that He would remain faithful to me
to see me through whatever circumstance I would encounter. I knew God had placed this adversity in my
life for a purpose. I may not understand
the “whys” right now, and that was okay, but ultimately, I knew it would be for
His glory.
I prayed and wrote in my journal that night:
“God, thank you for giving me these words. Thank you for
being the designer of the fabric of what you see as my life. I know You are in
control. You will be with me during this
trial . I know this to be true, Lord.”
I was in awe that night of how clearly God spoke to me. All my anxiety was replaced by a peace that I
can’t explain. I felt a sense of calm
and a reassurance that only He could have provided. It was okay to ask “Why?” Although all my questions may have not been answered
that night, one thing I knew that I would never have to question was God's faithfulness to me.
