An unexpected turn of events
My mom passed away from cancer on February 5th, just shortly after 8pm ET. Now, my own journey with cancer begins…
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The maintenance man made me cry today.
Before you get upset with him, all he did was ask how I was doing.
“How are you, Melissa? I know your mom passed recently and it’s been a minute since we’ve crossed paths, how are you holding up?”
“Well, I’m okay, I mean…things could be better…last Monday, I was diagnosed with breast cancer…”
He was really kind, full of sympathy and he shared how he’s been praying for me ever since he found out about my mom,
“God, give her strength, give her the strength to keep going.” “And, Imma keep saying that prayer.”
It’s always the kind words people say that make me fall apart in a sopping mess of tears.
What should, theoretically, have been knowledge acquired over the span of years and many more experiences, I’ve come to understand in the matter of mere months. I know now, the fear my mom had when she discovered something anatomically different. I know now the hesitancy my grandma felt in revealing anything to us when she too learned she had breast cancer. I understand the denial that this could even be happening to me, particularly at this age and at this time. I know the immense weight of worry for telling friends, my family, and, especially my dad. That was by far the most difficult conversation to initiate given all that’s recently transpired. I know the anxiety of waiting to hear what the results will show. “God, please, let it be nothing more than a benign cyst.”
I’ve never thought so much about death as I have these last six months. Never thought so much about life, it’s purpose, my purpose, my expiration date… We all have one, we know that but it’s easy to forget. This certainly shouldn’t be the death of me, not if I can help it. Still, it scares me shitless. Honestly, I don’t mind sharing how this came about. It’s an important lesson, perhaps one that can help someone else out there.
Early in May, I was getting out of the shower, usually I’m in a rush not really paying attention. But as I moved toward the doorway, I looked in the mirror, the slightest shift of light, a slight shadow indicating an indention caught my eye. Immediately, I was alarmed. My phone in reach, I grabbed it and frantically started searching for what that could possibly mean… fat necrosis, a benign cyst, breast cancer… well, I’m too young for breast cancer. It’s probably just a dumb cyst causing “tethering” or “retraction of the skin” whatever all that means…
A couple of weeks went by. I finally told two of my closest friends. Both of them said, “Melissa, you can’t play with that, you need to see a doctor ASAP!”
Ugh… okay, but I hate going to doctors, I mean, unless I’m dying, I’m not going. I don’t have any pain anyway and I honestly can’t feel anything. Like, it’s a boob, it’s just squish. I don’t feel anything lumpy or hard and nothing is protruding out on the skin. “Just go, if it’s nothing, that’ll be great but at least you’ll have peace of mind.”
Fast forward to two weeks ago, Wednesday. I go in for mammogram and ultrasound. Of course, since I’ve done so well to avoid doctors, I wasn’t aware of this. Women under the age of 40 are not annually screened for breast cancer. They’ll do it if you have a family history of breast cancer and/or symptoms that could indicate potential malignancy.
They did the tests. Soon afterward, after doc reviewed the images, he walks in..
Melissa, we’ve detected two areas of suspicion in your right breast and a nearby lymph node that looks abnormal. There is a mass about 2.5cm in size in the lower quadrant, likely causing that retraction you noticed in the mirror. I highly recommend you allow us to take biopsies of these areas so we can know for sure what we’re dealing with.
Okay, doc. I’m already here, if you say so, then let’s do it.
And so, they did. Core needle, mammogram guided biopsy of the calcifications, and two ultrasound guided biopsies of the mass itself and the rogue looking lymph node.
After it was all done, doc came back. He explained the four levels of suspicion… from low to high… “Melissa, I’m placing the biopsied areas in the highest level of suspicion for malignancy…”
And so, from 7:30am until 1:30pm…. I went from fearing nothing more than the potential of a naughty, benign, little cyst to understanding the severity of what might just have been discovered.
I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t feel a whole range of emotions that day… the lady before me went in for a suspicious lump… I happened to overhear that hers ended up being nothing more than just a benign cyst. Mine, something more sinister… and so the wait began…
To their credit, the medical facility handling my case is phenomenal. I couldn’t ask for more gracious, compassionate, and human (not cold and indifferent) medical staff. During the initial biopsy, I almost blacked out, they grabbed apple juice and crackers.. and then a complimentary meal from the cafeteria…I hadn’t eaten that morning, nerves..ya know…
Then last Monday, the call. My nurse…and everyone claims doctors, you never really hear someone say “my nurse’ but I’m claiming her..that lady was with me throughout the scariest day of my life… and she promised to be the one to tell me one way or the other… my nurse called me, and gave me the news…
“Melissa, do you have time to talk?”
I already knew….
…The results came back.. you have what is called invasive ductal carcinoma.
… the lymph node we biopsied also came back as having cancer cells.
… there is good news though, the area above the mass, the calcifications, those do not have cancer (yet). They are atypical ductal hyperplasia.
Shocked into silence, I listened to her for 20 minutes explain to me the type of cancer I’d just been diagnosed with and what all these terms meant. I wrote everything down… After she’d finished, I asked if she could do a favor for me… if she could pray for me, I just felt so scared in that moment…. She replied, “Melissa, I’ve been praying for you since we met last week and I’m going to keep praying for you.”
Of course, at this, I started crying… I said you know, sometimes, I’ve gone through life wondering about God’s involvement in our little world, wondering if He’s really out there or not, if He really cares about our trivial or big concerns… but the day my mom passed away, proved everything I needed to know… I told her how prayer brought my mom so much peace, how she’d fall asleep as soon as we finished praying with her…how she took her last breath the moment we finished The Lord’s Prayer with her…
…silence and tears streaming from both ends of the phone line… my nurse responded…”I know this is a lot for you, but if I could share something that has helped me throughout the years… you’re kind of young, this may be before your time, but you know that Beatles song, Let it Be?” Smiling, I replied, yes, the Beatles along with Simon and Garfunkel are the only 60s bands my dad ever listened to while I was growing up…
”Melissa, if I could tell you how many times I’ve listened to that song when I’ve struggled through life’s toughest moments… it’s brought me so much comfort through so many trials. I hope if you listen to it, that the words of that song can bring you comfort and peace…
And so it did..she was right…. It’s a very beautiful and powerful song… (admittedly, my favorite Beatles song was always Yellow Submarine)
Fast forward to today, I went in for a CT scan. From the results, it appears I do not have cancer anywhere else in my abdomen, pelvic, or chest area. Very fortunately, the tumor is not fixed, and not attached to my chest wall. It is, quite literally, the biggest blessing that a mere sense of a shadow caught my eye in the mirror just barely a month and a half ago.
Denial and anxiety and fear have taken their turns tugging at my thoughts. I’ve taken the time to cry…
Cry because it is the scariest thing to hear a doctor tell you “You have cancer…”
Cry because I can only imagine how horrifying it must be to hear your child say, “dad…I have something to tell you…before I do, I want you to know, I’m okay, I promise…I’m okay… but I’ve received a diagnosis of cancer…”
Cry because I wish so much I had received this diagnosis a year sooner, so I could tell my sweet mom how I’m pursuing treatment and she could decide to do it too and we could beat it together.
Cry because my mom is in fact fighting it with me…she left me every word of comfort written in her journals, every Bible verse that brought her peace and strength. She showed me how to handle this with grace and with acceptance. It is because of her example that I am not and will not be angry with God. It is because of her that I’ll find a way to push forward when it gets tough.
And so, this is where I’m at today. I’m alive, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, God willing. I made sure to watch that sunset this evening. You know sunrise and sunset are the prettiest times of the day for good reason… thank God for another day of life. Thank Him again for having allowed you to enjoy it, live in it, just one more time… honestly, get off of TikTok, drop the cell phone or TV and go outside to watch the damn sunset. Those colors are curated for your viewing pleasure each and every evening (unless it’s raining).
On a lighter note, I’ve been trying to prepare myself for how this may play out… I’m about to be down a boob, half a boob, or both, and possibly bald. Lord have mercy, taking the two gosh darn things I always liked about my appearance… Imma have to figure out how to have some fun with these physical alterations… if it comes to it, fun wigs… weird wigs, preferably ones with bangs to cover my future non-existent eyebrows… I genuinely hope I have a nicely shaped head in the event that I opt to be lazy from time to time, like oops, I forgot my hair at home… kinda how grandparents forget their dentures sometimes… I can so see me rushing out of the house without my hair… honestly, I should never have to rush considering it’ll be one less thing to tend to…
Deep sigh…
If while reading this,
You felt the jolt of shock with me
You cried with me
You laughed with me
You felt denial with me
You felt scared with me
You felt vulnerable with me
You felt hope with me…
Then, together we felt human
That’s the best we could ever hope to share.
As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read.
I promise, I am okay, I will be okay. I won’t be inclined to make shocking posts anytime soon. Many more cheers than tears ahead!
I expect myself to continue to draw and make pretty art, and look now, if something happens and I can’t, I have five fallbacks. Yeah, ain’t nuthin gonna stop me.. death can go knock on a rock ten miles down the block and leave me tf alone! (nvm that ten miles could never be down a block lol)
To tone it back down…
The biggest lessons I learned from my mom:
- “Baby, I don’t have time for a pity party” (in reference to her never complaining about her pain or impending doom)
- Pray to God, baby. That’s what I do. When I feel pain, I pray. When I feel good, I pray and thank God for another day.
- Why would I be mad at God? He made me…I’m alive because His energy lives inside me.. (this one hits me in such a way I always tear up when I think about her saying it…)
Here are a few of the encouraging reactions from friends and family:
“I’m a mom of three. I’m conditioned to be worried lol. I love you. everything will be ok, you are not alone”
“Hi Melissa, you’ve got this! Don’t let this news pull you down, digest it, allow yourself to cry today but go to bed with a fight mode, because you’re going to fight this shit!….” (I laughed so hard when I heard this voicemail because she swore!! I couldn’t believe she swore.. I love you Cat, thank you!!)
Melissa, don’t you claim this, don’t you ever say “my tumor, or my cancer” this is something passing through you, it’s not yours, it doesn’t belong to you. You’re going to fight it and get through it., just don’t claim it!’
This is going to sound strange but, try to see this as something that could bring out the best in your or of life… I have two friends who had cancer, one quit working for a while and ended up spending a lot more time with her kids, it changed her whole perspective on life. The other, quit his mundane job in pursuit of what he really wanted to do. It sounds morbid but the phrase, “remember your death” comes to mind, don’t forget to live, Melissa. It sounds weird but it’s really a reminder to remember how precious our time is and how we spend it. Don’t waste it, try to see all the beautiful things that could come out of this experience.
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You’ve no idea just how grateful I feel. It’s the most powerful feeling of them all.
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This beautiful, ergonomic, hand-carved cross was given to me by my sweet friends, Roxanne and John from Extreme Cypress the other day at the market when I’d told them about the diagnosis. Something to hold on to when hope feels hard to find. A prayer to go along with it. <3