This time last year David and I were recovering from one of the scariest times in our marriage. In the fall of 2017 I found a lump on my breast. The night I felt it, I sat in disbelief for what seemed like forever. So many emotions were swirling around in my head. I finally went to David and asked him if he felt it also. All the time praying and hoping he couldn’t and it was all in my mind. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. After he confirmed my fear I cried most of that night as he comforted me. To say he was a rock for me is an understatement. I thank God everyday that he was there to help me through.
Two days later I went to my doctor’s office to have it checked. They set up a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound for the very next day.
Y’all, I was terrified. See my paternal grandmother, my mother, and my mother’s sister had all been diagnosed with breast cancer. I had seen them go through surgery, chemo, and radiation. My mom and my aunt both survived, but the treatment had taken such a toll on their lives and bodies. My mom still has issues after several years because of chemo and my aunt’s more recent radiation had caused her so much pain. Now here I was at the age of 45 imagining what I was about to go through.
David took off work the following day and drove me to my appointment. We sat in silence most of the way there. I had yet to voice my biggest concern to him. I finally found the nerve and asked him how he would feel if I had to had a mastectomy. Would he still find me attractive? Would he want to still be with me?
Let me interject right here that David is not a shallow person. He has never been just about my looks, but these were very real emotions I had at that time and I needed to hear his response. Having gone through a divorce, rejection was no stranger to me.
As I sat there holding my breath for his answer, he said to me, “I didn’t marry your breasts, I married you.” I started to silently cry, because at that moment I knew no matter what happened David would stand by me.
We arrived at the hospital and I proceeded to have my first ever mammogram and an ultrasound. The radiologist came in the room and told me it was only a fibrous mass, but he wanted to have it checked out again in a few months. I was elated!
Fast forward to January of 2018. I was in the doctor’s office again because I had some kind of sinus junk going on. The PA that saw me that day noticed I had not scheduled my follow up mammogram and ultrasound. He put in orders right then and there and insisted I go back.
A few days later David drove me back to the hospital for my second exam. This time, however, would not have the same outcome. The mass had grown to 6 cm. I was scheduled to have a biopsy the following week. David took off work yet again for my biopsy. Then came the wait.
Finally my doctor’s office called to tell me that the mass was most likely benign, but it could be borderline. They referred me to a breast surgeon because of the type of tumor I had it would have to be removed. Soon I was sitting in her office. My “adopted” daughter sat with me as we waited in the room to be seen. I was having a great day and was joking about everything. My surgeon came in and after she examined me she began to go over my options. We could do a lumpectomy, but there would be a severe difference in the size of that breast compared to my other one. Then came the “M” word. I could have a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. She referred me to a reconstructive surgeon. I called as soon as we got out into the parking lot and made an appointment for the very next day.
David and I found ourselves sitting in yet another doctor’s office. When my other surgeon came in he introduced himself, sat down, and asked me to tell him about myself. I immediately broke into tears. David replied for me and of all the things he could have said proclaimed that I was 45. That broke the tension and we all laughed. The surgeon wanted to know what the fear was that he saw on my face. I answered that I didn’t want to look like a hot mess when it was all over. He promised me I wouldn’t. (He was right because he’s one of the best reconstructive surgeons in the Houston area.)
After his examination we decided in light of my family history to have a double skin sparing mastectomy and DIEP flap reconstruction. That’s fancy wording for having a tummy tuck and using that tissue to build breasts with living tissue. It’s truly amazing how far the medical industry has come in this field.
The date was set for April 3, 2018. Fear set in yet again. I questioned David again,”Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”. He replied that we absolutely were doing the right thing. He never wanted to watch me go through the agony of having breast cancer and was relieved that we were taking this precaution. He said it gave him a peace of mind that I wouldn’t have to ever face that.
After surgery I had another bout of fear thinking I went through almost 12 hours of intense surgery and the removed tumor could possibly be malignant. David straightened me out right away and told me to trust God. My pathology reports came back and the tumor was benign. It was borderline like they thought, but because of the steps we took I didn’t have to worry about having chemo or radiation.
The nurses said it would be best if I had a recliner for my recovery so David bought me the best La-Z Boy we could find. He encouraged me when I was discouraged. When I felt like Frankenstein’s monster from all the bruises and stitches, he reassured me I was beautiful. He was there for me to emotionally and physically lean on, took me to countless doctors visits, grocery shopped, cleaned, cooked, bathed me, and waited on me hand and foot. All the while David was working full time and I’m sure he was exhausted. Fortunately, we had a village to help us. My children and a few of my closest friends were constantly looking after me.
A year later and I am mostly recovered. God was faithful and David was a rockstar husband. He wasn’t perfect, but he was present through it all…in sickness and in health.