The Beginning

      “That’s strange,” I thought to myself. “I don’t remember a crease there.”

                A couple weeks later, it occurred to me that the crease could be a warning sign. To my dismay, my fingertips landed on a small bump leading to a firm mass. I called the office and, to my surprise, got a same-hour appointment. I hurried off to get there in time.

                “I think I have a lump,” I told my new ARNP, and asked for a diagnostic mammogram referral. Then came the week of waiting until my appointment.

                Just like last time—eight years ago—I was quite sure. Sure enough that I told my daughter and son as well as my pastor and church about it and asked for their prayers.

                Just like last time, I pondered how this would affect my life. Immediately, the Author of peace was with me, and the prayer I had prayed for months was answered: “Help me love You more.” Even though I knew from experience the kind of physical suffering that is likely ahead, I found myself singing praises to God, so grateful for His Love, so amazed by his glory.

                Then came today, July 16, 2024. I went in to work as usual, though it was only an hour before I needed to head off for my appointment. What could I get done in an hour? That was easy to answer: continue to read the chapters in Ephesians that precede my sermon text for July 28^th. I marveled at the privilege to center my heart and mind on God’s Word as part of my vocation as a commissioned pastor.

                Having already decided to take the rest of the day off no matter what I would learn, I left the office.

                The mammogram was not as painful as I had predicted, and the technician was both kind and professional. I was not surprised when the radiologist wanted a follow-up ultrasound done. Down the hall I went, and my care was transferred to the ultrasound technician. She, too, was easy to talk to and thorough in her job. Then I sat and waited for the consultation with the radiologist. During the short waiting periods between mammogram and ultrasound and then ultrasound and the consultation, I silently praised God and asked for his continued presence no matter what I was about to learn.

                The radiologist asked the technician to bring up the clearest ultrasound image of the “new tissue.” It was strangely shaped, kind of reminding me of a rather square hourglass, except the perimeter was bumpy. I forgot to ask about its size and the BIRADs rating, but he did say a biopsy was the next step. He and the technician were almost apologetic. I was thankful for their expertise.                 

                The last time I had cancer was in 2016, and that is when I also experienced the “peace that passes understanding” during the grueling treatment that took almost a year. Thus, I know that this waiting time for the biopsy and then for the various imaging and tests that will likely follow before treatment is the easiest part. I can still work and still feel like myself. The chemotherapy will make me feel like I am not myself. There will be twinges of nausea and mind-numbing fatigue along with pain that is impossible to describe. I don’t know what the mastectomy will be like; my previous lumpectomy was pretty much a breeze. But probably the surgery will come first this time.

                After my appointment was over, I went out to my car. First, I called my daughter. Then I called my pastor. When I got home, I told my son. As the day continued, I let my brothers, my church congregation, and a couple local friends know by text, phone call, or email that I have cancer again, and I’ll notify my friends who are not on Facebook in the coming days. I still feel peace, though I know harder days are ahead. This diagnosis rocks my world and changes everything about the coming months, but no matter the outcome, God will be my strength.