The Healing Chronicle – Volume 2

July 8th was a significant day for me. It was the three-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. I still remember that day. It is etched in my memory. I was at work. I was one month away from my retirement, and I got a call from the pathologist, and they told me – right then and there – “Denise, you have triple-negative breast cancer – stage one.” They went on to say that the next day, I would be getting a call from my surgeon. They would be scheduling a time to address this immediately. We can’t wait. This is fast-growing and fast spreading.” I hung up the phone – numb. My boss saw that I was visibly shaken, and I just told him I needed to go home.

Thankfully my husband was working from home that day, and so I could tell him the news in person. We cried and prayed. I immediately started researching and realized this was serious. Within days I was meeting with an oncologist, and they started laying out the plan. They said (rather matter-a-factly), your life is no longer your own. Here is what we need to do. I didn’t have a choice. They even saw my pocket calendar and threw it in the trash. I wanted a second opinion, but they said there was no time.

In less than a month, I was standing topless against a stark white wall, and they started taking pictures. The clinic was still following Covid protocols, so my husband couldn’t be with me. Thankfully he was able to join me for my later treatments. My surgeon was a no-nonsense personality – even a bit abrasive. But we had done our homework, and she was the best. But I felt very much alone and had many tearful moments. This was not what I expected or wanted.

Post-surgery they told me the cancer had spread, which introduced a whole new set of protocols. I started an aggressive form of chemo called “Red Devil”. Every Monday (for 15 weeks), I would sit in a chair for an hour to receive my treatment. I hated Mondays. The longer I was in treatment, the worse my symptoms became. The only thing that helped me with the symptoms was a cannabis gummy. About halfway through they introduced Taxol, which I ended up being allergic to, so I got reduced dosages. Then it was on to radiation five days a week for 5 weeks. All told I was in treatment for 10 months.

I am now three years removed from my original diagnosis, and at the moment I am cancer free. There are several things that stand out about the experience.

1. Even though I had what is considered the “worst kind” of breast cancer, I know people who have gone through so much worse. I am exceedingly grateful for the early detection, and that the treatments proved effective. I know that is not the case for everyone.
2. During this time, I had many conversations with God about all of this – particularly the timing. Just before my diagnosis, I lost my mom (whom I was very close to) and wondered why I had to do go through all this without her. And though I didn’t get a full answer to my questions, I did find a lot of comfort in prayer.
3. God was also very gracious in providing helpful scriptures that proved to be a lifeline for me. There were many days where I just opened the Bible randomly and serendipitously there would be something I needed.

I am not the kind of person who believes that God ‘puts things on us” but I do believe there was a larger purpose behind this season of life. I have always been the kind of person who takes care of everyone else around me. I took care of my mom, I took care of my colleagues at work, and pretty much anyone else who needed my help, I was there. It felt right/good. But this season forced me to take care of myself. It was an odd feeling at first, but I now see the importance of it. I want to live, and part of that is about fulfilling my role as a person who cares for others, but I have also seen (at a whole new level) that in order to do that, I need to care for myself too.