Marching On!

Quietly you walk down the hall. Praying silently in your mind. "God, I know you are in control. Your will has been, and will continue to be done. I just pray that my lymph nodes are not involved. I'm walking this walk, Lord. I'm looking for the blessings. And I see them! Oh, I see them!! But, please, could you not let my lymph nodes be involved. Just my breast. Please? Amen."

Pasting a smile on, you pull open the door to the Breast Center and face the receptionist. Who obviously has not gotten up with her Thursday Happiness on. Great. With your heart pounding, your blood rushing to your head, tears welling in your eyes, and your heart in your throat, you persevere. Smiling though you want to cry, you ask her about her dog, who's picture is hanging behind her. You tell her you hope her week has gone well. (Listen lady! You deal with breast cancer ever day! WE are not having such great days on this side of the counter!!). Finally, she softens a little. One hurdle down.

You don't even sit down and they are ushering you into the back. Your husband has barely gotten into the office from attempting to find a parking spot. Why do hospitals never have enough parking???? You undress into a pink gown. Again. Seriously people. I get it. Pink is for breast cancer. This is a breast clinic. But egads! I've had enough!! Its like my life suddenly exploded into pepto bismol! Another person exams my breasts. I'm totally numb at this point. They could leave the door open and I wouldn't flinch. We sit, we talk.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved.....

Weirdly, some part of you, as you sit in that chair, expect that the doctor will look at you and say, "Well, we were wrong. I don't feel a thing. It's really not cancer. Miraculously, it has gone away! We're sorry to have scared you and brought you all this way. The nurse will see you out." But of course, that does not happen. You hear those words again. You have breast cancer. Even though you have no family history. Even though you don't smoke. Even though you don't do drugs. Even though you are at a healthy weight, work out, watch what you eat, limit what you drink, go to church, pay your taxes, love your children and your mate.....it is not enough. You have cancer. And, oh, by the way....there is a second mass that was not originally detected. BAM! There is no turning back now. As if there was before.

Test results are read, options weighed, more ultra sounds and mammograms are done. More people feel your breasts and push and shove on them.  And by the end. You.Are.Done. Sitting in a waiting room with 14 women all in the same pink gown, you look around. No one is talking. Why is no one talking? Are we on death row? Is it prohibited? They said to turn your phone to vibrate but where was the sign that said 'SHHHH! This is a library'? I missed it. As I gaze around at the sea of pink I realize something else. I am the youngest one in the room. At 42, on this day, no one comes within a decade of my age. Yet we are all the same. How did this happen to me? Why is this happening to them? But it's not our fault.

For cancer does not know your name. It doesn't know your age. It doesn't know your socioeconomic status or your social security number. It doesn't know what you have to live for, or what you would be willing to live without. Cancer does not care. But I do. I care very much for these women among me. My forever sisters that I've never met. And one to never sit in silence, I begin to chat.......

There is a sort of humbleness to give your health history. To reduce your life into a few small sentences. I started my menses at 13. I was on birth control for 10 years. I had three pregnancies and three live vaginal births. I've had 3 surgeries in my life time and then this most recent biopsy. I am on no medication. I am healthy. Or, I was. Or I still am, but my right breast is not. I don't know. All I know is that I WILL be healthy again. Soon.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved.......

The plastic surgeon has great gusto for what he does. He can make me have breasts again! He can build them with my skin and his two hands! I feel  the implants. Dave feels the implants. We look at each other and try not to giggle. I ask if I have saline implants and I do box jumps...will I slosh?? "Yes. We have some patients that say they that does happen." For real? HA! Ok...I do not want to slosh. We volunteer to be part of a blood flow study to help surgeons be able to do more nipple preserving skin sparing surgeries. We are all about science. We can help. We will do it. I actually have to have pictures of myself taken. Shirtless. This is so strange. There is a 3D image of me in a chart. So they can note the changes in my breasts as they document my satisfaction. But underneath, I'm not satisfied! This is not fun and games! I don't care about your new camera! This is a necessity. I HAVE to have my breast removed. Or it will kill me. All jokes aside, this is some scary stuff.

But through it all, I trust that God has his hand on me. And He does! My news is good news after good news. Other than the other mass, all results show I am a healthy 42 year old woman. With this one flaw. Which they can take away! And soon! I'm grateful. I'm so thankful that I have a curable cancer. So, in the cancer world, I rock! And next Wednesday, I will cast this demon from my body, hopefully never for it to return.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved...... This is, after all, my mantra from the start. I have cancer. I get it. I'm ok. I will prevail. I will do what it takes to get it gone. I will fight. And I will win! But can I have this one little wish? Oh, and good blood flow to the nipple too, please. One doesn't want to be the loser statistic. ;)