A phone call came last Thursday that no one could be
prepared to receive. After a month of
unresponsive physical therapy for my shoulder, I had gone to have an MRI to
hopefully find the source of my problematic trapezius muscle. However, this phone call did not include
conversations of fixing an annoying shoulder problem. Instead, it involved words like bone
lesion and cancer. I was clear –
there was not a question of whether I had cancer or not. The question was how badly I had cancer.
The initial panic hit me like a ton of bricks. Hyperventilation. Visions of my children without a mother
swirled in my head. Breathing was
impossible. Mercifully, I was at a
birthday party with my children, who were completely distracted with
entertaining rides and friends. Women
that I call friends, but haven’t known long surrounding me with prayers,
watching my children as I stepped away to avoid panicking my sweet little
monkeys.
My husband and my sister were my first two phone calls. It couldn’t have been 30 minutes before my
sister and mom had a plane ticket for the next morning. My husband was by my side. The rest of the troops were on their
way.
The entire first night was a panic. I tried to push away the terror, but horrid
visions kept pushing into my brain. I
fell asleep, but woke up around 4:30 with fear.
I prayed with fervor. My
completely oblivious child woke with “nightmares”. As I lie in her bed, calming her jumping
body, it become immediately obvious to me.
My entire home was under attack.
The demons of fear were everywhere, even in my child’s body who didn’t
know about that terrible C word in my head.
I prayed immediately that Jesus cast out every demon attacking my
family, repeatedly. There was no more
sleep for me, but Charlotte settled down and slept.
A slight calm had come.
My sister and mom were in airports, hopping their way to Colorado. I called my dad and my grandmother, assuring
them that we were not going to allow the devil to penetrate our minds with
fear. Whether I had 3 days, 3 months, 3
years, or 60 years to live, we could not give him the pleasure of our
panic. God speaks to my heart with song
most often, and He immediately pressed “Praise you in this storm” by Casting
Crowns and I clung to the lyrics and melody in my mind, knowing that He was
offering me respite from my fears in this song.
My PA was absolutely amazing. She had the ball rolling Friday for CTs and a
bone scan scheduled for Monday morning.
A scavenger hunt for where my body had betrayed me and grown the cancer
source of what we could only assume had metastasized to my rib.
I’m a numbers girl.
I’m a logical thinker who understands statistics and knew exactly what
was happening. I’m not a unicorn and
cotton candy kind of girl. Joe and I
began conversations that we didn’t want to have. We left some suspended in the air like helium
balloons….wishes, wants, our children….
God was offering me rest from my panic, but it’s the kind of
rest that you have to cling to every moment or two, or you may fall off of it.
My children were watching. I was
determined to stay calm in their presence, though I’m sure I wasn’t. I was imagining conversations with my sweet 5
year old about cancer and whether or not Mommy was going to die. These were the ugliest conversations I could
imagine having with my innocent children.
Church on Sunday morning was needed. Worship was required of my heart. I was determined to tell my merciful Savior
that I would praise Him, I would cling to his mercies, even when it wasn’t
going to be pretty. JD spoke to all of
our hearts about covenant. I heard God
loud and clear. Covenant was a choice,
regardless of circumstance. I had no
illusions of pretty in my head. I begged
for my life, but knew my family and I were going to have to walk through fire
at the very least. At the most…. I pushed visions of chemotherapy and being so
sick that I couldn’t care for my children out of my brain, but the Devil is
persistent and they attacked me constantly.
My sweet – innocent children.
Joe, Leigh Ann and Mom were here and were amazing at
distracting the girls so that my emotions didn’t leak entirely on them, though
both girls knew something was up.
Charlotte is particularly in-tuned with my emotions and she was watching
everyone and paying attention to everything.
We had told them that the doctors were taking more tests on Mommy’s
shoulder, but that is as specific as we could be, because truly – we didn’t
have much more information for them. We
tried to spend time together, enjoying our moments together.
Monday morning came and we went to one hospital for the CTs,
then on to another for the bone scan. We
waited. Leigh Ann and Joe took turns
hunting down my phone, everyone on edge, waiting for that phone call, assuming
it would happen on Tuesday, but hoping it would come Monday. It came at 4:12 pm on Monday. I picked up the phone, awaiting the
prognosis. Was it colon cancer as
everyone suspected? Breast Cancer? Lung Cancer?
Each of them had been through all of our brains and the waiting game was
finally over.
My PA was quick and merciful. She said she wanted to cry for me. Many Radiologists had to look at the scans to
verify - ie: They were stumped. The
Radiologist and Oncologist were on the phone for 30 minutes because….well, because
she didn’t believe them. Somehow, this
rib lesion wasn’t a rib lesion. They
think it is a hemangioma, though they are obviously in awe. The bottom line from the CTs and bone scan –
there is no cancer.
My NP (ie: superhero) sister took the phone and had the same
conversation and more with the PA. Sweet
relief overtook us all. Leigh Ann kept
reiterating – this makes no medical sense.
I’m not sure of the numbers.
I found articles that said less than 1% of bone lesions turn out to be
hemangiomas and the tiniest percentage of those are on a rib. This morning my RN aunt must have been having
the same sort of stunned morning from this news. She said she found a study that stated only 22 documented
cases.
I am an anomaly. No –
my God is an anomaly.
I hesitate to even say “Praise God” because I don’t praise
my incredible God because I don’t have cancer. There are so many fighting cancer right this moment, praising Him. I praise Him because He is my Savior, my Comforter, my Creator.
I could have never imagined He would grant me this much
mercy. I was intent on following Him,
even though the road didn’t look like the road I had dreamed in my head. However, His mercy has me humbled me beyond
words.
I’m a numbers girl.
I know this doesn’t make sense.
Today – I am thankful that God is God.
I am humbled beyond words that he is also My Healer.
