The "C" Word

I've been wanting to write about this topic for some time, but never felt adequately qualified or knowledgeable. All I truly knew of the disease of breast cancer was that it had claimed many boobs in my family. And although the disease itself was conquered and cured, it stood ever-looming in some distant future for me. That was not, and never has been, a moment I awaited. And so I tucked it neatly into the back of my mind refusing to examine it at all.

Two aunts that I know of had lost a breast to cancer. Another - both breasts. Only one remains alive today and the others lost their fight with life due to heart failure. And if I am to believe science, then I am doomed to the same fate. I choose not to believe that. My ideas would seem radical to some, but that is their choice also. But my ideas are not what I want to talk about today.

My one aunt, who lost both breasts, never believed she would die of cancer. And she didn't. It remained in full remission and she was cancer-free for the duration of her life. But I have seen other families literally destroyed over the presence of this scourge. It can shake the roots of the firmest family tree. As with any disease, it is irreverent, indiscriminate, indifferent and merciless toward whoever it claims. Spouses, children, extended families and friends are not untouched and are left bewildered and horrified in its wake. The sheer mention of the "C" word can give rise to panic and feelings of hopelessness.

I think what bothers me so much about it is the absolute destruction it engenders. Not satisfied that it has claimed its victim, it seems to have the need to branch out and destroy everything that person holds dear. Perhaps that is the reason no one wants to say the word out loud, because if you do, it makes it real. It helps the monster rear its ugly head even further into your life.

At least that's what I felt the day I found a lump in my breast. I remember it like it was yesterday. I, of course, did the 'natural' thing. I went into denial and did nothing about it for about six months. But every shower I took reminded me that, indeed, it was still present. I kept checking and praying that it would just miraculously go away. It didn't.

So on one morning when I felt rather brave and was sure I wouldn't fall apart, I called the doctor to set up an appointment. Being the person she was, she told me to come right in... that day. It's just as well. Knowing myself the way I do, I would probably have blown off the appointment anyway. This way my choice seemed to be only one and I went in.

In the midst of it all I was telling no one about my discovery. To give it credence meant that I had to accept it. I couldn't do that at that time. But now that the doctor was confirming its existence and was scheduling the token mammogram, I had no choice but to seek support from the people I cared about. Even in my denial, I knew it wasn't right to keep this secret. But I would wait until the results of the X-ray. I was convinced there would be no need at that point to have to divulge anything. Wrong again!

There it was in living X-ray form. Even I could see it. The good news it was very small and I had caught it early... and... there was only the one tumor. It was painful. That gave her hope. She said that most times cancerous cells are not painful. She felt very good about my situation. I only wished I could mirror her excitement.

She set me up with an appointment to see a surgeon for the following day. "What's the rush?" I thought. "Hey! I got things to do, people to love and grand adventures I haven't done yet! Are you listening to me?" The panic rose to a level where I thought surely I would pass out. It meant I had to make 'the announcement' today. I wasn't prepared for that. Please, God! Not now, not today!

But true to myself in the end, I made the calls that needed to be made and I cried about what might happen and I hurt at a level I was sure the human spirit could not endure. My support was intact and I would survive... no matter the outcome. I was assured that the Will of God would not lead me where the Grace of God would not protect me. Strangely enough after the emotional terror I slept the deepest sleep I had in ages.

I awoke in a stupor. The knocking on the door was surreal. I made my way there and my friend came in and put the coffee pot on purr. Or wait! Was that the cat? I felt so confused. I began to cry all over again. He just stood there rubbing my shoulders saying everything was going to be all right. But in whose world I wondered?

He had come to bring me to my appointment. He said he didn't want to be on the same road if I was driving that day. I managed a forced giggle. It was the least I could do for his kindness.

The surgeon wasn't impressed with the X-ray. He suggested a biopsy and told me that the lump was so small he was just going to remove it all. Somehow that made me feel a bit better. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I didn't want it there. He said he had a cancellation for the following morning at 6 a.m. My whole world spinned. Tomorrow? What? Was he nuts? I just shook my head in agreement. And that's when the trouble started.

He decided it was a good thing for me to be informed of exactly how the procedure was going to be played out. It might have been of some interest to me if it were happening to another person, but I sure didn't want to hear about it at this point. He assured me that it was a very simple procedure of which he had personally done hundreds and that it would go very smoothly provided I made sure that the wire didn't move.

Wire? What freaking wire? I nearly ran out of his office. But then... my legs were like jelly and perhaps would not have worked anyway. I sat in a kind of vacuum while he described what he was going to do to me.

First off, he was going to shoot my boob. Well, he could stop right there. There wasn't any needle that was going to burst my little balloon! The local anesthetic would make the insertion of the wire absolutely painless. There he goes with that wire thing again! After he shoots the boob, then I would go to the titty-pincher and they would crush my boob all over again and X-ray it to pinpoint exactly where the lump was.

Then... while my boob is still being strangled!?!?!.... they would insert the wire that would guide him to the lump. The problem, it seemed, was that the lump was so small. I don't know about that. It felt like the Rock of Gibraltar to me. But he was the doctor... or so he claimed.

Once the wire was properly inserted, they would tape it down, release the boob from its stranglehold, and then transport me to the OR. I would then be either given more local anesthetic or be put under, my choice. Well, hells bells... just put me out. I don't want to be present for this! Again he tried to comfort me, but I would have none of that. It wasn't his boob being sliced! It was the beginning of the end for me, I just knew it.

I left there and tried to go to work. I just couldn't. There was no consoling me. I went to my friend's house and commandeered the couch. I was beside myself and didn't know what to do. The night was filled with all sorts of barb wire and nooses, symbolic I'm sure of the wire and the strangled boob. Maybe it was good I had chosen general anesthesia. I would be at complete rest then.

4 a.m. came earlier than I expected. What really stunk was that I couldn't eat or drink anything. Oh, how I wanted my coffee.

The whole procedure went relatively well. The shot to the boob was the worst part. After that I never felt a thing, although my mind could swear it felt something. The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. The nurse was smacking my face a little harder than I thought she should. But it had to be done I suppose. I was stark raving famished. If I didn't get something to eat pretty soon I was going to go postal. She said that was a good sign. I didn't realize I had said it out loud.

The doctor came in to tell me he had gotten it all and that the results of the biopsy would come in 7-10 days. That sure seemed like a long time to me. How do people survive a wait like that? It's as if he could read my mind. He told me that I would know one minute after he did. That he would call me. He might even be able to get the lab to speed it up a little. I think that remark was just pablum, but then who knows?

I spent the next 5 days in the middle of doom and gloom. I was sure I was dying. Every instance of every thought I had ever had about cancer came flooding into my consciousness. I couldn't wait any more. I called his office. His nurse told me that no results had come back yet.

So I had to resort to Plan B. I called the lab. The technician there was nice enough. She said she would check for me and put me on hold. When she came back her whole demeanor had changed. She was very abrupt with me and stated that the results would have to be revealed by the doctor. I felt like that wasn't a good thing. I asked her how long it would be before he would get those results. Another few days, she remarked. It took longer this time because the preliminary tests had revealed cancer cells. More testing needed to be done. I was stunned. The world turned black, the phone fell to the floor and I just wept.

I called my friends. I was a mess. I couldn't work, couldn't eat or sleep. The next five days felt like fifty. They insisted that if he were going to deliver bad news he would call me into the office. If he told me over the phone, then all was well. We are going to pray that he delivers the message over the phone. I appreciated their prayers, but I knew they were in vain.

Day 10 finally arrived and the phone rang with an eerie sound. At least that's how it seemed to me. Caller ID said it was the doctor. I couldn't pick it up though, so my friend did. At 2:30 p.m. (one more hour) I would hear the ugly truth. He wasn't delivering any message over the phone. I had cancer. Life as I knew it was changed forever. What was I going to do now?

Walking up his steps felt like I was walking the Green Mile. It took every ounce of energy and courage I had. If I survived this visit, I told myself, I was going to sleep for 24 hours non-stop. It was the least I could do for myself.

He was all peppy and smiling. I thought that was rather inappropriate. But when his mouth opened the words didn't match what I was hearing. "... got it all..... benign.... fibroid tumors..... calcium deposits.... you're good to go... should heal up in a month or so.... see you in 3 weeks."

I couldn't believe my ears. "So there's no cancer?" I asked.

"Why would you think that?" he asked.

And I told him the story of the call to the lab. Now it was his turn to be stunned, and my turn to be furious. I won't go into any detail here about that. But suffice it to say that the 'nice' lady doesn't work there any more.

I've had losses in my life. Who hasn't? But those ten days were the most brutal of all. I lost all sense of who I was, who I had become. There was no future for me. I shudder at the thought of those who don't get the results I did. I wonder how they not only survive it, but somehow thrive through it. It has to be the Grace of God.

Another friend lost her sister a few years back. Her battle was very long and merciless. The family still has a hard time talking about it. The nonsensical nature of the beast is what is most frightening. My friend Coleen lost her battle in a matter of just months. Others hang on for years and years fighting to retain their dignity in the midst of the war.

But they aren't the only victims. The families, the friends, the coworkers... they all suffer too to try to make sense of something that makes no sense.

I was looking on the internet for the perfect picture to accompany this writing when I happened upon the picture you see. It's those people (as well as the stricken) who will need support and consoling. The children, the wives, the husbands, the mothers and fathers... they will all need your love and soothing.

I was lucky. Many are. More aren't. Please keep them in your prayers tonight. This time of year has enough burdens. Lift them up to God and ask Him to comfort their spirits and ease their worries amidst their pain. He will reward you for your kindness.... thanks for dropping by.