Cancer

When you’re a cancer survivor you get asked about your story a lot. When you share your story and others share theirs, you start to recognize yourself in those stories. You soon discover you are living inside a shared story. This realization helps you cope with the fear of a life-threatening diagnosis like cancer.

I was vigilant about mammograms and six months prior to finding my breast tumor, had a negative test result. My mother died of breast cancer at 65 y.o., so I knew my risk was higher than normal. My mom was larger than life. She had a big personality, was very generous and loved her children. One night 15 years after she had died, she came to me in a dream. She held my hand and silently communicated to me that I had breast cancer. I woke startled, still feeling the warmth of her hand on mine. The dream was extremely vivid, and that moment between sleeping and waking I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or real. It felt so real. It was 2 am and went to the bathroom and started searching for a breast lump. It took awhile because my tumor was deep in the breast tissue against the chest wall muscle. I wanted to wake my husband to have him check it as well. Was I just imagining the whole thing or was my life about to drastically change. I crawled back into bed and tried to sleep until morning when I could tell my husband what happened.

After breast exams, another mammogram and finally an MRI, the surgeon called me to tell me what I already knew, I had breast cancer. I was 44 years old. It was my daughters 16th birthday and we were having a party to celebrate. After everyone left, I told my husband the news. It was one of the only times I have seen him cry.

I asked for genetic testing from the first Oncologist and he said statistically the likelihood that I had the breast cancer gene was very small and testing wasn’t necessary. I got a second opinion and got tested. It came back positive. This changed the course of my treatments. I would need bilateral mastectomies and surgery to remove my ovaries. Having the Breast cancer gene greatly increased my chances of certain other cancers, like ovarian.

I would undergo a right-sided mastectomy with removal of lymph nodes, recover, then have my left breast and ovaries removed. My husband questioned the decision for bilateral mastectomies despite the doctor’s recommendations. “Couldn’t I have a lumpectomy?” he asked. John was a “boob man”.  I decided right then, that despite having to undergo more painful surgeries, I would have reconstruction. It might help my marriage in the long run if I survived. The night before my surgery, I shyly asked my husband of 21 years if he would take some photos of me topless. At 44yo and after 2 children, I still had perky C cup breasts, that endlessly pleased my husband. It is said that more men love boobs than any other female body part and in particular breast symmetry. The beautiful breasts that he loved so much, would soon be gone forever. I had never posed topless before so I look awkward in the photos. Every now and then we will find them in the back of the sock drawer. It makes me sad, but at the same time grateful to be alive.

It took me what seemed like a long time to look at my scar. I still felt my breast was there despite knowing it was gone. It’s called phantom pain sensation.  I thought it would be easy, but it was HARD. When I removed the dressing, I was already bald from chemo and had no eyelashes or eyebrows. It was stark, shocking and final. Laying on my bed, I cried and cried with Lucy my little dachshund lying next to me. My husband came up to check on me, I asked him if he wanted to see and he agreed. Afterward, he whispered that he would never look at me the same again and left closing the door behind him. I was devastated, I couldn’t fix what was done, the only thing I could do was try to survive.

Chemo made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I think I only vomited once or twice over the period of treatment, but I did have some nausea. I found broth and rice, ginger tea, and ginger candy helpful. I had trouble focusing, couldn’t read books, so I scrapbooked with a vengeance. All those boxes filled with snapshots of my kids and family found a forever home in a photo book.

My feet were constantly cold and my throat was Sahara Desert dry. I wore winter socks in the summer and gargled with Biotene mouthwash for dry mouth. I wrote dozens of thank you notes for meals delivered, flowers sent and timely visits.  I kept a huge stack of the get well cards that were sent to me during my treatment for years after and would pull them out every now and then to remind me of the love and goodwill sent to me during that time.

I tried Marinol after being scolded by my girlfriends that I had a legitimate reason to get stoned and I wasn’t taking advantage of my chance. I was leery, I had smoked pot and it made me feel paranoid, but I asked the Doctor for a prescription and he readily agreed. It was a little capsule and looked similar to the vitamin E capsule I took. It did not make me feel stoned. It did, however, take away the unnatural feeling of being uncomfortable in my own skin. So, I took one every day and went about my scrapbooking, chemo treatments and chauffeuring my kids to school and sporting events. One day a couple of weeks later I was driving to the high school to pick up my son from football practice and I had the intense sensation that I was driving too slowly? I was driving the speed limit on a country road toward the school, nothing out of the ordinary. Then it dawned on me, I was stoned! I was high on my way to pick up my son from school. Good grief! Would he be able to tell that his mom was baked? That was the last day I took Marinol. Eventually, I passed it on to a friend whose husband was dying of Lung cancer. He was having trouble keeping food down and it really helped with his appetite and nausea. Since that time a lot of the stigma that comes along with marijuana is fading. It’s a good thing as I think it can really help with appetite in people going through these tough treatments.

During my treatment, I continued to care for my 90 Y.O Mother in Law by taking her to church and grocery shopping weekly. I drove her to occasional doctor’s appointments although it was usually an appointment the doctor’s office requested as a checkup, not that she was sick and needed treatment. She wasn’t on any medications. She would frequently tell me “Mary, I have never had a headache, I have never had to take an aspirin”. She preferred to sit in the glassed off baby section of the church, called the cry room. It was called the cry room for a good reason because between the crying kids and the poor audio, it was very hard to hear any of the mass. I was bald and preferred to wear a bandana scarf as opposed to a wig. Chemo had thrown me directly into menopause and I was one big fat hot flash, so the wig felt suffocating to me.  Even without the wig, I would sit in church with my Mother in Law and sweat would drop off my forehead. Sitting there in the hot pew, I would find myself drifting off, soon my head would bop down waking me back up. I was tired all the time. Everything took a little more effort than normal.

Some weeks I would drop her off at home and then go to church with my family at a nondenominational Christian fellowship. I was covering all the bases, just in case.  I loved the music and the sermons were on target and applicable to everyday life. It kept my faith alive and strong during what most people would see as a hard time in my life. I believe God walked with me and at times carried me through my cancer journey. Scriptures like “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

My cancer journey involved Chemotherapy, four surgeries and checkups continuing to this day. I have had many health problems since, some explainable with Chemotherapy, but none of them are overwhelming. I had a bout with malignant melanoma which is linked to the BRAC gene according to a Geneticist I saw. Remember as you start accumulating labels, that you are not your diagnosis. I understand how hard it can be when you look in the mirror and see a body that was altered by cancer. When its hard, get up anyway put on your clothes and go walking, hiking, take a yoga class or bake some cookies. Whatever you enjoy doing. Get outside, take deep breaths of fresh air. Look up and see everyday miracles, they surround you. If it's too hard, let God do the work with you. God told Apostle Paul “My gift of undeserved grace is all you need. My power is strongest when you are weak” (2 Corinthians 12-9) If you’re having a really bad day, find thanksgiving in the meal that arrives at your doorstep, or the friend that takes your kids for a few hours. I never looked at those moments as coincidences. God said “Even the hairs on your head are counted” (Matthew 10-30). He knows! so let him carry you on those days.

Marriage is a rollercoaster ride even without a cancer diagnosis plaguing it. Years after my recovery my husband and I were at a party. He was standing in a group of guys and I was standing with the ladies. For some reason, I overheard one of the men telling a joke about being a boob man, leg man or butt man. After the joke, my husband piped up and said: “I am a Mary man”. Tears welled up in my eyes, it was one of the sweetest things he had ever said. It seemed even more powerful that it wasn’t said to me but to the other men. I am so thankful I was eavesdropping, I know I was meant to hear it.

Some truths are so hard to bear, they might be best left unsaid. In all reality, I never looked at myself the same again after cancer. My body would never be the same, but neither would my soul. Maybe I was stronger because I had to rely more on God and less on myself. “Nothing about me is hidden from you! I was woven together out of human sight, but with your own eyes, you saw my body being formed. Even before I was born, you had written in your book everything about me (Psalms 139:15-16). Maybe I had learned to love a little easier, forgive a little quicker, and give thanks for the small things that are really the big things in life.