<
It’s been under three weeks since the radiologist said those words. I felt breathless in that moment, as if the wind was knocked out of me. But also heard the answer I had felt in my heart during the previous week. I know how various medical professionals attitudes and demeanors change when they’re suspicious or concerned. I also know the difference in a simple cyst and the characteristics of malignancy. But the confirmation began a rush of emotions I’d never felt before. The combination of shock, sadness, fear, and anger has been exhausting.
The reason I’m sharing my story (so far) is because of advocacy and faith. I’ve had my share of health challenges over the years. I grew up in the medical world as my grandmother was a PA and my family ran a well-respected family medical practice. I know the importance of preventative health screenings and due to family history, many of mine began early. My first mammogram was 10 years earlier than the recommended age and I’ve kept up yearly appointments religiously.
This year’s screening mammogram was different. The technician took additional scans of my right breast, which was unnerving. I told myself it was probably my positioning and not to worry, I hadn’t felt any breast changes. The next day, I was pulling into a Short Pump parking deck to renew my CPR certification when I received a call they found an abnormality. The fear inside me was immediate and my first thought was how I didn’t want to put my husband, son, or parents through this. My husband lost his mother to a ferocious malignant brain tumor 7 years ago. My Mom watched her mother battle breast cancer twice and lost her to lung cancer. My Dad’s brother had just passed away the previous month from lung cancer. The possibility of this being real made me feel ill. I did learn that many women receive call backs for additional screening and a very small percentage of those find a malignancy.
Over the next week I had a diagnostic mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy, which revealed invasive ductal carcinoma. The last few weeks have included surgical appointments, genetic testing, more imaging, vacation cancellations, back-up plan discussions, pausing my portrait bookings, and the roller coaster of emotions that have accompanied this mess. While I won’t share every detail of my treatment plan, it will mostly likely include surgeries, radiation, and many years of endocrine therapy. This could change as I move through stages of treatment.
There are some important things I’ve learned the last few weeks I feel are worthy to share. Talking with other women has taught me most do not know these facts or how to begin screening. I’ve urged my closest family and friends to begin screenings and remind their loved ones to do so.
There are barriers to early detection and screening. As women, the needs of others come first and we put off caring for ourselves. Being a patient is hard for me, too. I’ve been a nurse for over 20 years and caring for others is a huge part of my life. Being out of the drivers seat, so-to-speak, doesn’t feel right. Weirdly, I’ve been very emotional after my recent appointments, no matter how quick and painless. These are appointments I used to attend with family members, listening attentively and understanding every word. When the script is flipped, some of my training and knowledge goes out the window. It’s a vulnerable position I don’t think I’ll ever embrace.
Please read this with an open mind and know I’m not calling out anyone in my circle. If you’ve been in my shoes, you’ll understand. Part of being a cancer patient includes accepting the onslaught of thoughts, opinions, home remedies, and sudden interest in your life. Hearing comparisons are really not helpful. My journey will be different than others. The abrupt onset of advice can be overwhelming and almost held me back from sharing my news at all. “This will make you stronger” is somewhat laughable. I do not feel strong most of the time, I feel vulnerable. I didn’t need cancer to make a statement or define my life, even if I decide to share about it. The boob jokes are funny, yes, but please only share them if a breast cancer patient does so first in that moment. Most of the time I need a good joke and laugh, but take the patient’s lead. What a newly diagnosed cancer patient always needs is gentleness, love, grace, acceptance, and for me, prayer.
My faith has been and will be the cornerstone of this unwanted journey. I’ll admit I begged God for my biopsy to be negative. I know He did not cause my cancer, because my God doesn’t cause harm. Jesus is walking beside me and my family through this trial. I feel Him in the worship music I listen to and the words that stand out in my Bible. I felt His strength with me during my biopsy and again yesterday as the rush of IV contrast made me overly lightheaded. He’s giving me strength through the love and compassion I’ve received from so many in my life. My precious family, colleagues, church, race track friends near and far, treasured clients turned friends, those from high school, college, and more…thank you! Although I will not enjoy a minute of this journey, I will embrace it because He will bring me through it.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28
Resources:
Renee, Family Client and LMP Senior Mom x2
Once again Laura knocked it out of the park with our family photos!! She has been our trusted family photographer for many years and her work is always stunning!! We would highly recommend her!!!
-Beth, Family Client and Mom to two LMP Seniors
" Laura was easy to work with, flexible, and so artistic. Working with her was a great experience..."
-Amanda, Stepmom to LMP Senior, Ayrin
" I hope I get to work with you again someday. You are truly talented..."
"Laura went out of her way to make sure my daughter felt comfortable and to ensure we captured this milestone perfectly. Our photo gallery was exquisite and delivered to us so quickly..."
-Andrea, LMP Senior Mom
Get in touch!