D-Day: The Day I was Diagnosed

It has been 6 months since I was diagnosed with breast cancer but every detail of that day remains fresh in my mind. This is my story of that unforgettable morning...

December 12, 2011 @ 9:06 am. I just dropped the kids off at school and was driving home when the call came into my cell. I looked at the screen, 'Unknown Caller'. On any other day, I would have shrugged the call off as a wrong number or the pharmacy calling to let me know that the kids vitamins were ready to be picked up. But on that particular morning, I knew that wasn't the case. The person on the other end was all too familiar and was calling to provide the answer to the question that I had been asking myself all weekend, "Do I have cancer?"

For a brief moment, I remember feeling angry that the pathologist was calling me at that particular point in time. News of that magnitude should have been received on my terms...like in my PJs, snuggled up on the sofa with my morning coffee...not when I was stuck in my car at the cursed u-turn that must be made in order to get to my development. Second ring. Okay, chin up. I've had 4 days to prepare myself for this moment. Deep breath. Then with the perkiest voice that I could muster, "Hello?"

Reflecting back now, what took place in the next 60 seconds of our conversation was much like a ride on a roller coaster. The call lead off with the typical exchange of pleasantries -- you know, "How are you?" followed by "How was your weekend?" and so on. {roller coaster begins to slowly make its way up the steep slope} She must have picked up on the terseness in my voice because she quickly turned the conversation to the business at hand. No cushioning the blow just straight to the verdict. (Doctor): "I have the results of your biopsy. {roller coaster reaches the top of steep slope & comes to a complete stop} The cells in the mass tested positive. <pause> You have cancer. The type of cancer that you have is invasive ductal carcinoma." {silent gun shot & the roller coaster takes off as though you've been dropped from the sky. Twisting & turning along the steel tracks, doing loops until you feel like you are going to lose the cotton candy & funnel cake that you had eaten 5 minutes earlier} Her words became blurred as she continued on with the prognosis. Those 3 words, "You have cancer" continued on that amusement ride through my brain, twisting, turning, flipping, jerking me from side to side. When was this bloody ride going to stop? And, just like that the ride came to a screeching halt.

As I sat there waiting for my head to stop spinning, the doctor asked me, "Are you okay?" It's one of those vacuous questions that needs to be asked in these types of situations (I mean the woman just delivered the news that I have cancer) but it irritated me nonetheless. I wanted to yell, "NO, I'm not okay, dummy!" My once comfortable life has just been thrown into complete turmoil. But instead, I calmly replied, "Yes."

Next, the doctor asked, "Do you have any questions?" Hell yes I had questions! Although none of which she could possibly answer...like how do I track down that uptalking, asking & answering his own questions, Californian doctor who looked at the same lump 10 years ago, and I quote, said to me, "Are you a 30-something woman with breast cancer? Absolutely not!" It was all overwhelming & too much to absorb. More than anything I just wanted to get off the phone and so I responded, "No."

We wrapped up the call as I was pulling up the driveway. I walked through the back sliding doors into the kitchen & threw my keys on the counter, just like I do every Monday morning after dropping the kids off at school. Only instead of heading over to the coffee maker to refill my mug, I fell to my knees and cried.

I cried...and cried...and then cried some more. 

A flood of emotions rushed through me: anger, fear, sadness, loneliness, self-pity, devastation. And then came the questions one after the other: Why is this happening to me? What about the kids? How am I going to be able to care for them?  How is my husband going to handle having a bald headed freak for a wife (yes, vanity issues made their way through my tears too). Why did all those doctors over the years who questioned the lump never make the push for me to have it checked out? Why didn't I take seriously the changes that I noticed to my breast over the past months? But the one question that kept coming front & center...How am I going to get through this?

My focus turned toward my husband - my rock, the love of my life, the man who is not only my lover but best friend. He didn't sign up for this. Oh wait, vow #5: "in sickness & in health." Sure, but did either one of us really expect to have to deal with anything beyond the common cold or case of strep throat? Certainly not at this age. We had a good 50 years before the real health issues would come in to play...or so I thought.

My husband & I have been together now for over 20 years, during that time we have overcome numerous obstacles in our relationship which in the end always made our love for each other stronger. I had no reason to believe that he would turn his back on me now. I mean just because you married a man who eats, breathes & sleeps politics doesn't mean you hitched yourself to a Newt Gingrich or John Edwards. We would fare this storm just like we have fared all the other hurricanes, earthquakes & tornadoes that have come our way through the years.

Next, I thought of my three beautiful children who provide so much love, laughter and joy to my life. I would do anything for them...and I mean, anything. I'm not just talking about the every day things like kissing their boo-boos or putting extra chocolate chips in their pancakes. I'm talking about the monumental actions like jumping in front of a train, walking across a burning bed of coal & taking a bullet through the heart if it would protect them from harm. With them on the sidelines cheering me on, there was no way that I would come out of the ring without a TKO on my belt. My children certainly didn't sign up for a life without their protector.

{Tears began to dry up...perhaps I could get though this whole cancer thing?}

Last, but definitely not least - God. He will carry me through this battle. I mean why not? I am a person of Faith. I went to Sunday school, youth group, spent all of those Sunday mornings and holidays with the big Guy. I say my prayers nightly, do my best to be a good Christian, asked Him into my heart...was that all for nothing? I reached out to Him asking- no begging -to give me the strength to persevere this battle. Surely, He will not abandon me during this fight.

So there you have it...sitting in a puddle of my own tears, I "figured out" how I was going to get through the whole cancer thing. I had my troops lined up & I was ready to lead them into a victorious battle. 

I picked myself up off the floor armed with a new strength, a new sense of hope, and a renewed Faith. I went into the bathroom to clean myself up and caught a glimpse of the splotchy-faced, puffy-eyed woman looking back at me in the mirror. It occurred to me at that moment that the woman looking back at me would no longer be the same. No longer would I be living life but living life to live. It was time to clear the erase board calendar filled with Daisy & MESA meetings, sport schedules, PTA board meetings & events that normally took center stage and replace each day's agenda with a new #1 priority: destroying the cancer that has invaded my body. From that point on the image of the woman looking back at me will be the woman who survived cancer. 

Cancer doesn't stand a chance...


It has been 6 months to the day that I received the news that I have cancer. Although I have shed many tears during this time, I have not cried again like I did on that morning. Sure, my Faith has been called into question, my relationships have been tested and my tolerance levels have been pushed to extremes. But, I know that God has a plan for me & I will continue to trust in that plan, which is why no matter how hard cancer tries...and it has put up a good fight so far...I will not allow for it to bring me down.