A Time to Cry

The month of October brings breast cancer awareness to the forefront. One in eight women will be diagnosed, amounting to almost 322,000 women this year and around 2,600 men (1% of all breast cancer cases). Every two minutes the word “positive” comes out of the mouth of a clinician.

Below is an excerpt from my book Confronting Cancer with Faith. This is how it unfolded for me:

It was a day that started off much like any other as I readied myself for work. All morning I busied myself at work before Parker came to pick me up after lunch to go meet with the surgeon. We would be getting the test results of my biopsy.

As we walked toward the surgeon’s office, I blurted out that my intuition led me to believe the results were going to be positive. God’s preparations for me seemed all too clear. In reality, the statistics were in my favor since the vast majority of all breast biopsies turn out to be benign. I was hoping not to be the “1” of the 1 in 8 women diagnosed with breast cancer in the U.S. every year. I had no family history of cancer and maintained a relatively healthy lifestyle. It was reasonable to believe I would be no different from most other women, but that was not how I felt. God nudged me to say what I was thinking out loud to my husband. Parker asked me why I felt my results would be positive, and then he affirmed his love for me. Those few words were some of the sweetest words I had ever heard as he tenderly spoke of my character, my personality, and my spirit being what he loved, not just my physical body. I knew all of that, but it felt good to hear it. It gave me an opportunity, too, to hear his reaction as I considered what it might be if it were medically necessary for me to have a mastectomy. My announcement also gave Parker a chance to absorb the possibility of what was soon to become reality.

As we tried to relax in the crowded waiting room, my anxiety level began to climb. I had been able to occupy my thoughts at work, but now I was still and contemplative. I spotted a Bible on one of the corner tables and began reading it to once again occupy my mind. Immediately, I turned to the book of Psalms and reread Psalm 139—the passage Dr. Winchester had suggested I read the day before. It was apparent why as I reread it.

As the minutes dragged into an hour, my anxiety turned to agitation as I thought of how cruel it was to make someone wait so long to find out if their life was about to be changed forever. Of course, other lives were being impacted, too—not just mine. So I read psalm after psalm before turning to Psalm 119, the longest psalm in the Bible. Surely by the time I finished reading that psalm we would be called back, but no. As I turned to yet another psalm, I knew I was not absorbing a word of it, but I rationalized that at least I was filling my mind with the Word of God. Finally, Parker and I were ushered to the couch in the surgeon’s office. I determined this was a bad sign. Dr. Winchester sat down and methodically started to retrace the steps that had led us up to this point. She reviewed the mammogram and ultrasound reports and then presented the biopsy results. As Parker and I squeezed each other’s hands, my palms now sweating and heart pounding, Dr. Winchester revealed the results. They were as I had thought, just as God had prepared me: positive. Parker and I did not gasp or act overwhelmingly alarmed but simply sat there in a state of subdued shock. Positive. My results were positive. Working in the medical field and having encountered many oncology patients, I had wondered what the scenario was like for both the doctor and the patient. Now I knew.

Dr. Winchester stepped out of her office to allow us a chance to absorb the devastating news. She later returned to describe the surgical options available to us. As she explained what “moderately differentiated ductal in situ carcinoma” meant and then began drawing diagrams and discussing alternatives, I realized this was way more than I was ready to digest. Positive—I was still stuck on that. Not only did I have cancer that was ten minutes old, but now we were being told we would have to make a decision as to what we felt was medically, personally, and spiritually best for us. It was no longer in the surgeon’s hands but rather in our laps! Why didn’t Dr. Winchester just tell us what to do so we could do it? Why couldn’t the choice be clear-cut? Should we elect the most conservative approach (a lumpectomy) or the most radical and comprehensive approach (a double mastectomy)? My head was spinning. I tried to focus on the discussion, but I heard only parts of it as positive still rang in my ears. (from the lesson “A Time to Cry”).

Early detection is paramount. The good news is that only 1 in 43 breast cancer patients die, but that is one too many. It is wonderful to have 4 million breast cancer survivors roaming the country, but I think of the journey each one traveled. Fortunately, I was able to turn mine into a journey of faith. Consider reading more about my journey in Confronting Cancer with Faith. https://www.amazon.com/Confronting-Cancer-Faith-Encouragement-Comfort/dp/1624801102