Going “Under the Knife”

Going under.

In the last three months, I have seen five different doctors. There have been many phone calls – from seven different offices – as well as appointments with a myriad of questions asked and (some) answered.

It was an MRI that started things. Even though my mammogram four months earlier was clear (with a letter to prove it), my doctor scheduled me for an MRI. It was just a routine MRI, done only because family history put me into a high risk category for breast cancer. I agreed, only because my doctor recommended it, and because Medicare paid for the $6000+ procedure. 

I already knew when the girls at the MRI clinic avoided my eyes. They brought papers for me to sign, giving permission to send the results to my doctor and would-not-look-me-in-the-eye.

I also knew when the radiologist turned the ultrasound screen toward me and showed me the small lump he found. The one side was smooth and round; the other, irregular and jagged. It was small, but I could not deny what I saw. He knew that I knew.

“I know that’s not good news,” I replied. He already knew, too, but of course he couldn’t tell me, nor could he look me in the eye.

The call from my GYN doctor hours later set things in motion for more testing and for – yes – biopsies. I knew that she already knew, because I could hear it in her voice. 

I already knew when the calm physician who did my biopsies spoke in veiled tones about possible results. She was gentle and kind, but that didn’t take away the reality of what we both knew. I knew when her technologist avoided my eyes after her repeat mammograms and ultrasounds in her clinic before the biopsies.

For certain, I heard it in my primary doctor’s tearful voice when she called to ask me if anyone called me with results. My doctor is not only my doctor; she is my friend. We worked together for several years, and she knows every allergy I have and every lab work I’ve had done. She knows my husband and most of my kids.

“You might as well go ahead and tell me,” I said. “I can hear from your voice that it’s not good news.”

It wasn’t. Except that, even in receiving the news, God was there. The news was awful, and surreal, but God was real.

I cried. I called Dave – and cried some more when he said he was coming home.

Coming back up

 I went to the Word and climbed into Psalms. I stayed there for a while, and inhaled Truth.

Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever You had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting You are God.

And . . .

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.  He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

God never guarantees life will be fair, nor does He promise rewards of health and wealth for those who serve Him. He does, however, desire for us to be faithful, even when we are going under, even when our health or our wealth is wanting. I made a commitment that day – to be faithful.

There is only one place to go – and to look – when we receive unwelcome news. “For we have no might . . . neither know we what to do: But our eyes are upon Thee.” 

More going under

In the past months, we met with an oncologist, two specialty surgeons, and a geneticist. We’ve talked for hours on end about choices and possibilities. Sometimes we are tired of discussing cancer. Sometimes the fact that Cancer was not on my calendar for 2023 and yet suddenly made its presence known makes me angry. Events on my calendar are crossed out or left with a question mark. Our plans for future events are on hold. I am angry at sin that brought disease into the world in the first place! 

Indeed, I grapple with the changes in our plans and our world because of this diagnosis- that “C” word. We talk about when to tell people – and how much to say. I try to find ways to tell friends and little ones that I have cancer so they can “handle it”. Sometimes I think I still haven’t gotten that part right!

For a few days, I walked around my house, practicing saying those words: “I have cancer.” It doesn’t change the fact that if I didn’t know, I would have no idea.  When I had a knee replacement in January, I was ready to have surgery because I wanted relief from pain and movement restrictions. This time, I am only ready because I know it must be done.

And Coming back up

Dave and I continue to feel God’s care. He is good, even now. There is grace, and we are experiencing that grace, poured out abundantly.We come to His throne boldly, to receive grace and help in this time of need.

Many believers are praying for us and our family. Folks (friends of our six adult children) who have never met us are praying. They care about my kids’ mama. These friends are in many different time zones, which means I am prayed for around the clock.

Under the Knife and Under his wings

The end of July, surgeons will do their best to remove the cancers and surrounding tissues. I rest in the care of our dear and glorious Physician, Jesus Christ. He not only heals physically, He heals emotionally and spiritually. Much as I desire physical healing, I know that emotional and spiritual healing are most important – and best – of all.

What happens next is unknown. Yet God already knows, and that is enough; for in our tomorrows, He is already there. Share on X

Life is not fair; that’s what heaven is for. God is good, all the time. Even now.

Photo credit: Pixabay.com