“The smaller mass and your lymph nodes are clean. Unfortunately, the larger mass is cancerous.”
Well, this isn’t exactly how I thought this year would go.
Infiltrating ductal carcinoma.
I really don’t want to talk about it with too many people. Funny that I’m writing about it here, huh? No worries, I have, like, tens of followers, a vast majority of whom probably don’t read this and don’t actually know me. I feel more safe sharing here than in real life. If you do happen to know me in real life, can we keep it between us here? The news will get out soon enough.
It’s not a secret, it’s just that it’s been a bit of a sucker punch. I figured there was always a good probability I’d face this. But now? Didn’t see it coming at all. I really don’t want to have to deal with everybody’s reaction and stories. Because everybody has a cancer story. Everybody. And they share it. Whether it’s good or not — usually, in particular, when it’s not. Whether you want to hear it or not.
I have honestly asked my husband if I have imagined the whole thing. The doctor finding it, followed by a mammogram, then the diagnostic mammogram, then the biopsy, talking with the doctor about the results, meeting the breast cancer surgeon, meeting the plastic surgeon, getting a massive genetics lesson, hearing, learning, deciding. All of it happening so quickly that it seems like it isn’t really happening at all.
My husband assures me it’s all actually happening.
Surgery is scheduled for the end of March. The cancer appears to be contained to my breast, but we won’t know for sure until after the surgery. Sometimes I feel a dull ache where the mass is. Most of the time, I wouldn’t know it’s there if I didn’t know it was there. It sounds like I’ll find out if I have to do radiation and/or chemo after surgery, but both sound like a pretty good possibility. Who knows? Maybe they’ve told me and I just don’t remember.
One thing at a time. When the information influx gets overwhelming, I remind myself, one thing at a time. There will be plenty of time to deal with whatever hurdle later.
The weird thing is that before I found all this out, I was feeling better than I had in quite some time. More energetic. Dare I say, ever so slightly peppy even? I attribute this lift in spirits to the fact that I haven’t eaten bread since the beginning of this year. That seems to have made a huge impact on the way I feel both physically and mentally. I haven’t been as unbearably fatigued, my belly bloat is way down and I even feel hunger pangs.
Isn’t it odd how life goes sometimes? Just when you’re feeling pretty good about yourself, you find out you have cancer.
I’ve run the gamut of emotions during the past month. Thankfully, none have been feelings of fear and there’s been a good amount of peace. But still, it’s something unpleasant to face and deal with. So much information, so many decisions. Just when I adjust to a plan of action, that plan changes. It’s been a bit much in a short time. Six short weeks ago, I was content and happy in my little world. Things were finally running smoothly. And then…
I don’t really know what to pray, so I keep it simple. My prayer is that the Lord preserve my life, keep my “beautifully working” kidneys working, and that this is the end of the line for cancer in my family. It just has to stop.
And of course, if He would like to do a miracle, I’m not going to say no to that. Jussayin.
4 thoughts on “My next journey…”
Sorry to see this kid. Hoping and pray for the best. You got this!! Lots is love to you and yours.
I just now read this. You can fight this! One day at a time. I will be praying.
Just saw this today. Back home healing. Each day a little better than the day before — I can type today! Thank you for your prayers, Laura. They are much appreciated.