In life, we all face storms. The Bible is explicit on this, “…In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33). Each person’s storm has a different name, just like hurricanes, but we will all face them at one time or another. Some rumble through and hinder our plans temporarily, some are EF5 tornadoes leaving our lives unrecognizable and requiring us to pick up what matters most and start over.
Over the past two years, my husband and I attempted to expand our family unsuccessfully. During that time, I had a sense a storm was coming. I tried to deny it and chalk it up to fear, but I couldn’t shake it. I could smell it in the air. We found that I did not have ‘infertility’ in the traditional sense. There was no reason for me not to be getting pregnant. On January 3, the atmosphere began to change. A routine ob/gyn visit revealed a lump in my right breast. I was told it was probably nothing, but referred to a breast surgeon as a precaution. I had an ultrasound that showed that it was a ‘complex’ cyst. The surgeon initially wanted me to have a lumpectomy, but then inexplicably changed his mind and set me up with another appointment with him in 3 months. I was to have another ultrasound and a mammogram before the appointment.
The time between my last appointment with the surgeon and my ultrasound was the sudden and eerie calm. I felt like the cyst was ‘it’ and nothing else would come of it. On the day of the ultrasound and mammogram, the first flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. The mammogram showed ‘microcalcifications’ - indications of changes in the tissue and all smaller than a grain of sand. Nothing that is palpable. I was immediately scheduled for a biopsy. Again, I was reassured that 80% of biopsies have benign results. The calcifications were in two separate areas, so one biopsy turned into two and they believed they had gotten most of the calcifications.
On April 25, the storm broke. Big droplets of rain, blinding lightning, thunder claps that sizzle through the air, gale-forced winds. The kind of storm that sends you running for shelter. I was not told ahead of time to take my husband with me, a mistake on the part of the doctor’s office. I took this to mean that there was no bad news. My appointment was originally scheduled in the morning when my son would be at school, but due to an emergency surgery, my surgeon couldn’t meet me until noon. My son had to go with me. I was thankful I hadn’t had to go on my own. I was told I had a type of cancer called DCIS - Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. It is a non-invasive ‘pre-cancer’ of sorts located in the milk ducts. The other part of it was that it was an aggressive form, high grade DCIS, that could eventually break out of the milk ducts and spread. The surgeon wanted to schedule surgery in the next few weeks, but I had to have an MRI first. I had the MRI and genetic testing (which came back negative) and found some respite in in the distraction of my son’s birthday that weekend. On May 7, my husband and I returned to the surgeon to discuss my options. The MRI had shown that the left side was clear, but the tumors had multiplied. He laid out 3 possibilities and gave us the choice. Double mastectomy seemed like the most devastating of the three for many reasons, but mainly because we still do want more children and I would not be able to nurse my babies like I had my son. By the time I got home though, I felt that it was the best choice. It would reduce my risk of developing more cancer and completely remove the cancer I already had. We decided to pray and make our final decision when we returned from a long-planned family vacation the following weekend. We came back confident in our decision to have the double mastectomy and began the process of preparing for surgery.
As this storm broke, the only thing I could do was to seek shelter.
I had a peace that was unexplainable and not my normal state of mind.
I had to reflect on the amazing events that led up to the discovery of cancer. If I had gotten pregnant, it would not have been detected as soon and could have possibly been accelerated. If I had not had the cyst, I would not have had another mammogram until I was 40.
On the day of the surgery, the peace persisted. I am normally a wreck when going to doctors’ offices and that day, there was no fear, no nerves, no anxiety. The surgery went very well. My doctors had listened to me about the kind of incision I wanted and I have minimal scarring from the surgery. I was concerned that I would be awake when I went into the OR and though I seemed coherent to those around me, I have no memory of those moments. Recovery, however, was challenging. I was definitely in pain and depression threatened to set in. The first week after surgery was the hardest week of the whole journey. On day 5, the bandages came off and I got the first glimpse of my new shape, full of bruises and incisions. Depression threatened even harder. Through it all, God was there, understanding what I was feeling, reminding me of what He had saved me from. The more I learn, the more I realize that I was rescued from something more serious. Though I had a non-invasive cancer, there was an element of invasive malignancy to the tumors that had already broken out of the milk ducts. Without the discovery of the cyst that lead to the cancer diagnosis, I most certainly would have had a much tougher fight on my hands in a few years, possibly for my life.
The most important thing to me throughout this, secondary to more children, is that people understand what God has done and is doing. This was not just for me, it was for you as well. One of the things I love about thunderstorms is the dangerous beauty of it. From a distance, the flashes of lightning, whether visible bolts or a kaleidoscope of light within the clouds, are breathtakingly beautiful. I hope, that as people see me walk through this storm, holding tightly to the hand of my Warrior-King Father, that they see that beauty shining through. That beauty is not me, but Him. The light radiating from me is His. Nothing about my reaction to this situation was ’normal’. It is all God.
After a storm, we always look for the rainbow. It is a reminder of God's promise and the serene beauty that follows the storm. Even if you are going through a storm, with God, there will always be a rainbow at the end of it. (By the way, this was a double rainbow that happened just a couple of months ago).
