Prequel to the Caring Bridge
My Diagnosis Story
I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer in November 2019, age 29.
If you, or a loved one, are on a cancer journey, I pray my story helps you realize that dark seasons can be as full of love and light as we are willing to let God make them for us. Rest assured that God will hold you firmly in any season or transition you face. You are first and always a child of God, a good creation, and you will never walk alone.
If you asked me to describe cancer, my answer would probably change by the day. It would depend on how salty or exhausted or blessed I was feeling. My cancer journey was…
The wildest summer camp I never wanted to visit.
The worst way to turn 30 and plan a wedding. (0/10, do not recommend)
The most heartbreaking plot twist for my family and friends.
Nothing like the movies. (Or books. Or your neighbor’s aunt’s cancer journey in 1985.)
All of that is true! But my cancer journey has also been so much better than I ever thought it could be. Before my diagnosis, I knew very little about cancer. It sounded dark and scary, and definitely like something for old people, or a tragic figure in a Nicholas Sparks novel. I was none of those things!
In 2019, I was 29 years old. I had reached that magic season of early adulthood where it was all coming together. (Hands up for our late twenties!) I loved my day job as an elementary teacher. I spent my days reading stories, singing songs, and crafting elaborate hallway displays to show what we were learning. I ran on hot tea and sweet hugs. Teaching was a wild ride, but one I had planned for my entire life!
In accordance with my best laid plans, I paid my way through grad school. I was active in my church. My weekends were of Hallmark quality in every way- farmer’s market trips, coffee with friends, dates with my sweet boyfriend, Andrew. In between, I decompressed a few nights a week as a freelance musician. I played my french horn everywhere from churches to community theater, quintet rehearsals to the symphony at my local college. (And if you’re wondering where I found time for all those things, so am I!)
Life wasn’t perfect, but life was good. It was beautiful and it was mine. It was what I’d planned.
And then…it wasn’t. Just after my annual physical in August 2019, I felt something odd. As I dried off from my shower, I felt a marble-sized hard spot on my right breast. It was new to me. A week later, it was still there. Though I realized this was something unusual, cancer could not have been further from my mind! I wasn’t panicky or nervous at all. My biggest concern was how inconvenient it was going to be to make an appointment during the school day. #teacherlife
Right from the beginning, God provided for me in so many ways. Yes, I could make a list of how inconvenient and disruptive the next series of events were in my life. But it could have been so much worse! How lucky was I that my doctor was only five minutes away from my school? They squeezed me in during lunch, and a teacher assistant watched my class in the cafeteria until I scooted back. My doctor didn’t say anything scary, just ordered a mammogram. From there, it was on!
For the next six weeks, I slowly slid from one scan to the next. Somehow, there was always an appointment about ten days away. (Knowing what I know today, that was a miracle!) Somehow, there was always someone at school to take care of my class. And somehow, I never spent too much time thinking about it. I busily went to school, rehearsals, dates with Andrew, coffee with friends…and to scans! Mammogram. Follow up mammogram. Ultrasound. Ultrasound biopsy. And then after that, they called me “into the office” for pathology results.
The Monday before Thanksgiving, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer.
Andrew sat with me in the radiologist’s office. We listened to the usual, “We wish we could have caught it sooner, but…” (just like the movies) and I felt like I was watching the scene from far away. (Just like the movies) The proposed course of action was surgery first to remove the lump. We’d reevaluate after that. We walked out with a sheet of four local surgeons and some well wishes, and that was it! I remember Andrew and I sitting in the parking lot for hours, calling our families, trying to process the news we’d heard.
…still no panic, though. Never was I more thankful for a fourth grade field trip the next day! I boxed up this weird cancer diagnosis to process over the holiday, wondering if I could wear jeans on my field trip. (The ever present question for elementary teachers!)
Thanksgiving 2019 was a somber holiday. I remember going through the next few days thinking, “I have cancer, but you can’t tell.” I wanted to take a bunch of family pictures, preserving this last bubble of my life as I knew it. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my immediate circle of family and friends, and I certainly didn’t post it online! I was hoping we could get this surgery out of the way with as little drama as possible, and then move on.
Somehow, the surgeon Andrew and I chose had an opening the week of Thanksgiving. (Hallelujah!) This was the first appointment where I really, truly broke down. I remember thinking how dismal his office was- flickering fluorescent lights, plain gray walls. We could have been in a horror movie! He was so very kind, but had the misfortune of being the first one to tell me that my life was about to change.
No, surgery isn’t going to fix this. The tumor is too big.
Yes, you’re probably going to need chemotherapy.
That means you’ll need a chest port. Let’s schedule that surgery.
Yes, you’re way too young for this. You could be my daughter, so I’m going to treat you like you were.
What a gift to have his genuine, bedside manner deliver the worst news in the best possible way. I will forever remember how warm and tender he was, even though his office looked absolutely terrible. (Ha!)
Our next stop was our local oncologist, who confirmed all of that very bad news. He added that I would have to quit teaching. (No question) I’d need a double mastectomy. (No question) And that we should start treatment as soon as possible, because my cancer had spread into my lymph nodes and was moving quickly…minus the warmth. I fell apart, again, in that office.
I think this is when my cancer journey really started. Publicly, at least. Announcing a cancer diagnosis is very much a public relations campaign. Who do you tell? And in what order? But you have to juggle all of it, plus your day-to-day life, without a publicity team to manage your paperwork and your phone- which is always exploding with text messages. I’d teach a reading lesson, then schedule a hospital visit. I’d take the kids to recess, then return calls. I cried through a faculty meeting where I told my friends I was leaving at Christmas. I choked my way through a rehearsal, where I told more friends I was starting 6 months of chemotherapy. I told my fourth graders why I was suddenly on the phone or at the doctor all the time, and I then told my church. A carefully executed plan.
In the background of all this craziness, my sweet Andrew was determined to find something better. A cancer diagnosis is always bad news. Cancer in your 20’s is doubly bad. Triple negative breast cancer is even worse. Our hometown team got the ball rolling for us, and we appreciated it, but it was heartbreaking! The prognosis was bleak at best, only giving me a 50% of beating this. Andrew fought to get us a referral for a second opinion. Somehow, we got an appointment at Levine Cancer Institute, over an hour away, for a consultation. Dr. Tan was a specialist in TNBC, and Levine had a program especially for young women. The miracles that unfolded from this step forward were just that: miracles.
…and that brings us to my CaringBridge!
I started blogging about my cancer journey to share news quickly, but it evolved into a haven. A little pocket of the internet where I could share all the news and feelings, without worrying how it would be received. I wanted to tell my story my way. Life as I knew it, in all its carefully curated glory, was ripped away from me. If nothing else, I could control the narrative, and I could trust God to pull me through.
I can’t say that more faith changed my outcome, and that people that do something else experience a worse outcome. But I know that clinging to God through this changed me.
It was better for me to lean on God, talk to God, and trust Him through all the ups and downs than to cuss at the sky for 4 years. (Spoiler alert: I still have cancer 4 years later. It’s ok. Read on!) I walked away from cancer with no bitterness in my heart. Just more awe for the power of God, His love for me, and all the tiny ways He takes care of me everyday. What if I lived my whole life this way? Don’t get me wrong- it still sucked! But it was so much more.
To a certain extent, you do “just get through it” when you’re diagnosed with cancer. But every moment and every plot twist is an opportunity to be more than you thought possible, to let God work in and around you. Every minute you don’t panic is a victory. Every step you can check off is a victory.
Not everyone wants to hear this soul work when they are diagnosed. And I’ve learned that may not be the best time to tell them. A cancer diagnosis is a shock, but like most other things in life, it’s a process. When you’re ready, and your heart is open, that process can heal your heart while you wait on healing in your body. I’m convinced, more than ever, that God wants goodness for His children. Cancer is awful, painful, and not from God. But if we are faced with cancer, we do not journey alone.
My story was nothing like the movies.
My story was not your neighbor’s aunt’s cancer journey in 1985. It was my own.
My story was in God’s hands every step of the way, and He filled it with so much goodness.
If you, or a loved one, are on a cancer journey, I hope you know those things are true. I pray my journey helps you realize that dark seasons can be as full of love and light as we are willing to let God make them for us. Rest assured that God will hold you firmly in any season or transition you face. You are first and always a child of God, a good creation, and you will never walk alone.