Waiting, waiting

In my first entry, I mentioned that our journey has included a lot of change. Not only the change of assumptions that I am healthy to now I have cancer, but changes in times, insurance, etc.

Yet another aspect of this journey has been about waiting. Waiting for mammograms, sonograms, and doctor's interpretations. Waiting to see the surgeon. Waiting for surgery (we waited for six hours due to two emergency surgeries). Waiting for biopsy results. Waiting for time to go by until the date to see the specialist rolled around. Waiting for MRI's and bone scans to be done (do you know how long 3 minutes can be?)

We found some of the waiting harder than others. The period of time in which we did not know if there was even anything to worry about seems, in hindsight, the hardest. Ironically, one facet of my doctor's office I have been repeatedly warned about is to be prepared to wait, because the doctor gives each patient the time she needs--no one is rushed.

Waiting, for us, has been a time of discipline....an exercise in not allowing our minds to wander too far into fear. I have not always distracted myself productively, though I have re-learned how to play Spider Solitaire. I have also read, a lot of it at bedtime, in order to fall asleep without negative thoughts. However, I have had, overall, a sense of peace in the midst of our waiting. I joked that I did not know if I was at peace or in denial, but I did have confidence that God would be faithful to His promises, even though I was not sure what immediate promises to apply. Sometimes, the bottom line is most important.

Now that we have some answers, even though they are hard ones, the waiting is getting a little easier. We are still waiting....for surgery....for treatment to begin....and for the words, "you are cancer-free." We know what we have to do, and are ready "to get to it."

We have other friends who are waitng as well. A friend is also awaiting biopsy; my sister-in-law is waiting to get started with her breast cancer treatment and move toward those words about the cancer being gone. We pray with empathy about their wait. We also pray with gratitude for those who prayed for us during our waiting time. Waiting can be a bit paralyzing when the fear feels strong, and it is hard to find a coherent prayer....we thank those who had words for us.

I am challenged as I close: How many scriptures do I really know about waiting...waiting upon the Lord. And, is my waiting for the Lord's return as intense as the waiting for word about my current life... I have growing to do on both accounts, something to fill the waiting times with if I am willing.

On February 21, 2006, I began my journey with breast cancer.

A routine visit to my gynecologist resulted in him finding a lump in my right breast. Though it did not show on my mammagrom, a sonogram revealed it to be solid, irregular, and "suspicious looking." On Feb. 28th, we consulted with a surgeon; on March 16th, she performed a biopsy; and on March 23rd, we received the news that the biopsy came back cancerous. I personally declared March 26th the beginning of journey, as we shared with our church family the news. We were prayed-over by them, hugged, cried with, and encouraged. Several people "signed-on" to walk this journey with us. It was a great beginning!

I have told several people that finding out I have breast cancer is similar to turning 40....it's a big deal, but I really feel no different than the day before. (Alright, confession time: I never did turn 40. I messed up the math, and not until this year, when I was doing the calculations, did I realize it. So, to anyone out there to whom I told I was 39, I apologize. I was, sincerely, wrong. Rats.) When we were in Dallas, seeing the specialist, the sense of reality began to take hold a little more. I don't necessarily think it is healthy to mentally shift to "I am a woman with breast cancer," because I don't plan on keeping that identity. However, I don't want to live in denial either. I think that will be part of the journey, determining as if for a school essay, "What breast cancer means to me." Hence, part of the purpose of this blog.

Regarding our time in Dallas: it was good! We were very pleased in meeting the Dr, her staff, and the Baylor setting itself. God is so good, and our Highland family so kind. Some friends here found, booked, and paid for our hotel when they found we had decided to go the night before. Others kept our kids, then another couple kept our kids when we found we were staying another night. Yet another person gave us clear directions---we arrived 30 minutes early and did not get lost once! We saw Dr. Sally Knox, and found her to be quiet, gentle, and that she bestowed upon us such dignity and respect. At the end of our time there, Dr. Knox's nurse, Debra, spent over an hour with us in counsel, sharing information, and answering questions. She was there as long as we needed her, and that was clear. Amazing! The night we stayed over (unexpectedly, to accomplish testing) we found a hotel with a hospital rate, went to a mall, and had dinner. It was a great evening, save for the breast cancer that took us there!

As far as our medical journey, the Dr. ordered a MRI, bone scan, bloodwork, and skeletal imaging. It was spontaneous, in order to help us determine the most fitting procedure. Her office staff scrambled to get it all scheduled for us, and we got it all accomplished. Baylor hospital is abuzz with activity, but everyone was upbeat, smiling, and helpful. Before we left, all the information came back (except for the bloodwork), and it was all clear. Thanks, Lord, for that grace and mercy!

What we are looking at: Overall, we have a diagnosis of "duct carcinoma in situ" at a Stage II. We have opted (as of this moment in time--we find that "change" is a huge part of this journey) to do a lumpectomy and a senital node biopsy, followed by chemo and radiation. We are scheduled for the 27th of April, although we might get to do it on the 13th, should another patient cancel her surgery (This would be a poor choice for this lady who is so scared and running away. It is a new level of unselfishness for us, praying she will keep her surgery date!)

A recurring theme I hear is that although breast cancer is scary, it is also a time of great blessing. The nurse we spoke with for so long said that she truly believes 98% of the women they treat are happier persons now, than before their cancer. Others attest to the love of family and friends. We can certainly attest to that as well, and we've only just begun. I believe that God is so proud of our family, church family and the folks at Mark's workplace. I have shed more tears over kindness than fear at this point! It has a been a beautiful way to start the journey. Thanks to all of you!