I received the call from my doctor yesterday. When I saw the “gyn” on my phone come up, that freezing action occurred in my body. I stepped into the laundry room so I wouldn’t faint in front of Whitney, which I am known to do at the use of the word “cancer”. When I said hello it felt like waiting for an old computer to boot, eternally long before she said I have your results. While I waited for her words my mind volleyed the possibility of cancer back and forth across all parts of my soul hoping for the spiritual warm-up from the exercise to kick in because I needed all of my faith to stand like soldiers and be available to fight off the ninny in me what would like to crumble if she said it’s cancer. She said, “It’s a fibroid mass.” I must have not said a thing. I was just feeling the lightness of that problem lift off, perhaps a bit stunned, definitely numb because she stammered, “uh, well, you must be relieved.” I snapped to my senses and thanked her for the call back and apologized for leaving so many messages indicating I did not want to read this news from an email in case I had questions and needed to have a human voice to hold onto. “Have another mammogram in six months.” Yes ma’am. Then I wondered if I’d have a new gynecologist lined up in San Antonio by then, but that’s another issue.
I felt good. Relieved. My hands went up and I said, “Thank you God”. I had an urge to hurl softballs in every direction, heaving the problem back at the enemy. I know that I know that I know if God had allowed cancer to be a part of my life He would also show me the way through it. I believe there is purpose in all circumstances and learning opportunities abound during hardship. The constant thread is that God loves me the same whether I have cancer or not. I don’t receive this good news as a greater blessing than if I had learned I was now going to battle with the BigC. Not once did I pray “don’t let it be cancer God” because it already was what it was. I whispered to Him maybe I’d like a miracle if he felt like giving one to me but I didn’t demand it. Mostly I prayed for Him to strengthen me with His truth from the Word, help me grasp the promises and not believe the lies of my own weaknesses. God is the same whether I’m on a mountain top or down in the valley, His love for me is a constant, and his presence is guaranteed. As I wondered if I was going to go to battle with the most sinister of all diagnoses I was immediately strengthened by knowing I’d never be alone.
That thought is exactly what pulled me through the biopsy procedure. It didn’t go so well. I’m not a big girl if you know what I mean, so being set in a vice grip for over an hour was let’s just say uncomfortable. The usual lying down position didn’t work on my little girl body so I had to lean over in a chair and crane my neck way over to the left, and then “hold it”. Meanwhile they uncovered a tray that held a needle bigger than I expected in exactly the line of vision I had to hold. I closed my eyes and tried to listen to the praise music dribbling into one ear as the ear bud gradually gave way to gravity. I shouldn’t have peeked at the instruments. I should have listened to my common sense and kept my eyes closed.
They took so many pictures to make sure they had exactly the right spot located. After about an hour of this they injected the local anesthesia and proceeded to insert the needle that would suck out a little piece of me. But, my vagal response is much bigger than my will to sit still. As soon as they had found the place and we were almost finished I got dizzy, clammy, and nauseous. I started to slip out and the nurse said are you ok? No, I’m going to throw up. So, they had to remove the needle, undo the vice squeeze and I emptied my gut into the trash. It took a while before I was no longer weak. I think I apologized a hundred times because we had to start right back from the beginning with more pictures, and another hour of getting the exact place where my teeny tiny spot was hidden in my teeny tiny breast.
Then it was all finished. I wanted to go home but not rest like I was told to do because no one with a fifteen month old rests, even after they’ve spent the morning at the hospital. My blood pressure was 88/55, too low, they made me wait there until it showed signs that it would stabilize.
All through the procedure I kept my mind on the verses of the bible that strengthen me. During the weeks of waiting for results I refused to get all worked up about it because I didn’t want to waste energy or lose focus. After receiving the good news I emailed Craig. He didn’t know what fibroid tissue was so he asked if there was procedure for that. I said yes follow up therapy includes a day at the spa, jewelry, new shoes, fabulous relaxation and fancy dinners. One friend said to tell him, “God gave me a vision in a dream of you being fed grapes on the beach…” Now that’s the kind of therapy I won’t mind a bit.
Silliness aside, I am purely relieved that is behind me. I’m on to more exciting and interesting events in life. And those are topics for tomorrow. Before I go, I want to thank you all again for keeping me in your prayers because I am sure that is why I enjoyed resolve and peace during the wait. It was like all the worries were corralled by your prayers and held in a pen so I couldn’t hear them or see them. Thank you.