A year ago, today....

A year ago today, I met with the onocologist to see what treatment was going to look like. I heard the word chemo and my name in a sentence for the first time as he discussed my case in generalities.

The biopsy showed two cancers and he seemed pretty concerned as he examined me.

He whispered, as he touched my shoulder, and spoke solemnly, “That’s what this is, Inflammatory Breast Cancer.”

This was the first and almost only time the C word was spoken out loud to me by my medical team. Jesus didn’t even allow that word to be with me in the same room.

I still remember how the room stood still and how I heard the doctor speaking, but it’s like I was watching a movie. There was no containing the tears. I remember feeling surprised at how big my tears were.

We quickly quit talking about Chemo as the onocologist explained I needed a PET scan ASAP. He needed to see if we could even treat this with chemo or what our options might be. He was concerned about how much it may have spread because Inflammatory Breast Cancer grows by the day and in just a few weeks, or few months you are terminal. Based on the rubrics of questions he fired away, it was apparent I had readily mistaken signs almost a year earlier…

I questioned why it mattered what cancer if chemo is chemo. Then I realized what he was saying...

I went ahead and asked what the course would look like if this doesn’t seem treatable. He was reluctant to tell me, making sure I really wanted to discuss this now.

He discussed in gaps some drugs to make my quality of life as good as possible and shared that he was asking for my PET scan appointment to be moved up.

I let them know I was already on the special PET scan diet and I would take a cancellation if it came up.

I left the onocologist to go have lunch with my beautiful blessing of a daughter because it was her birthday. My husband and I tried to focus on the menu but it was too blurry to read because tears kept filling our eyes. He finally sit his menu down. Kylee pressed us for info. She didn’t want to wait. We shared. They both just stared at me with tears and I stared back. Then we prayed.

We went shopping, trying to distract ourselves. I found a soft blanket for chemo and a cute planner. A call came that a cancellation occurred and I could get a PET scan the next morning.

I cried in the car on the way home through the mumbled words of whatever praise song was on the radio. I was operating from a place of victory, relentlessly.

We took Kylee home and packed a bag to go back into town to be near the hospital.

Before we left, I called a family meeting explaining what was happening and briefly sharing info from the doctor. I remember where each one was sitting in the room and the look on their face.

I remember feeling their hearts tremble and their minds racing.

I reminded them that regardless of what this test says. I know the author of the next chapter and God had this.

I let them know I kept hearing in my spirit since the drive in to the onocologist, this is my rescue story.

Fast forward…

Today I went to lunch with my beautiful blessing of a daughter. I cried on the way into town because our body have a way of remembering. I cried being overwhelmed by gratefulness and letting go of pain all at the same time.

We went shopping. The doctor didn’t call.

We held hands during a movie this evening...enjoying what today represents. Recognizing what we have.

If you saw me today, you wouldn’t even know that, Satan a drunk sniper put a hit on me last year and death chased me.