The Browns

Statistics project that one in every four people will suffer the affliction of cancer in their lifetime. Back when we were just a young family of four my mind would often wonder, if that was true--if so--then which one of us would get the dreaded and often deadly disease. Turns out it was me.

When I would think about it or hear the news that someone I knew had been diagnosed with cancer, questions would always pop into my mind. What would I do if that were me? How would I react when the doctor delivered the awful news? What ap­proach would I take to go on with my life?

All of these questions were just questions back then. I never tried to speculate or to answer them. But on September 4th of 2003, I came face to face with reality. It was something I didn’t want to face.

Those questions I had pondered before now required an answer from me. Back in April, I had gone in to see the doctor for my yearly physical. A thorough exam revealed nothing unusual. In fact, I appeared to be quite healthy for a woman my age. However, the doctor did make arrangements for me to go in for a routine mammogram in the next week or so. I didn’t go!

I thought I was too busy. There just never was a convenient time as far as I could see. So I kept putting the mammogram off for a later date.

Then came that terrible day in August when I saw the swelling under my arm. Upon further self-examination, I also felt a large lump in my breast. Fear reared its ugly head as my heart pounded wildly. My mind searched for every possible reason why these abnormalities would be there other than the obvious one that hit me first -- could it be CANCER?

I told no one of my findings or of my fear. I didn’t go in to see the doctor the next day either. Rather, I chose to phone and make an appointment for two weeks later. I know the doctor would have seen me immediately if I had shared my concern. But you see, deep in my heart I was hoping the swelling and the lump would just disappear if I waited a little longer. But they did not go away.

Now I had to answer question number one: What would I do if that was me? I wanted to deny that I had a problem, but I realized denial could mean death if I did have cancer. And I surely did not want to die. I felt I had too much to live for. So that two-week-away doctor’s appointment turned into the longest two weeks of my life.

The examination was brief and then I was ushered into the doctor’s private office. He came in and sat down behind that big desk and just looked at me. AND I KNEW. Now I had to answer question number two: How will I react when the doctor tells me I have cancer?

“It does not look good,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you have cancer. We will have to do further testing to prove what the problem is,” he soothed. But I already knew. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. I went absolutely numb. I searched every crevice, nook and cranny of my brain for some reason to this awful mess I was in. I found none. As I drove home that day, a brief, late summer rain shower passed overhead. The sunshine followed closely on the heels of the rain cloud and up there in the heavens appeared the most vibrant rainbow that I have ever seen. The colorful arch seemed to be there just for me. I could feel the presence of God assuring me that no matter what I had to endure, He would be with me through it all.

The tears began to fall in a flood, but not because of the pain in my heart. These tears washed away the fear and doubt of facing what lay ahead for me. I knew in that short span of time that God would take care of me. I also knew that my family and friends would be there for me when I needed them most in my life.

Question number three: How will I go on with my life? One day at a time. That’s the only answer I could find after my diag­nosis of cancer was confirmed. I realized all the crying, ranting and raving in the world could not change what was happening in my life. So I set about taking each new day as if it were my last. I did not ponder about tomorrow or worry about yesterday. I simply concen­trated on each new day and I did (and still do) all I could for that day alone. Every single day now brings hope and renewed faith in me.

I had surgery and then after a brief period of healing, chemotherapy treatments were started. I never cried much after the ini­tial shock of realizing that I did indeed have cancer. One of the few times that tears have flowed was the morning of the thirteenth day after starting chemo. I was combing my hair and a wad of my tresses turned loose right then and there. Hair fell out by handfuls after that. Maybe my tears were from vanity, but I really did not relish the idea of being bald. But, hey--it’s not so bad after all. I had all these cute little hats that I wore and I absolutely never had a bad hair day. My hair has since grown back. (It even came back curly.)

I did six weeks of radiation treatments. What would they be like...I had no idea. But I did know that God, my fam­ily and my friends would be with me all the way. They’ve already proven this over and over since I first got sick with this cancer. Chemo treatments continue even today. To say I have no worry or fears I can not.  I do know that God has promised to meet my every need, so I’ll keep trusting in Him.

One thing that I have learned through my sickness is the value of my family and my friends and how important it is to stay close to God. I never realized how much they meant to me or even how much I mean to them. I have seen these precious people go way beyond the extra mile to help me when I needed it the most. When I am down and can not help myself, they are there carrying my burdens on their shoulders. They don’t seem to mind. You see they love me and I love all of them. To me this is the ultimate gift of love in action. What more could anyone ask for?