the (dreaded) C word

I remember asking Brandon, my eyes half open, tucked underneath a pile of warm blankets, if "I was okay..." I don't know why I worded it that way but I remember looking up at him and saying "Am I okay?" He didn't answer me right away. I asked again. Brandon and I have been together for over half our lives. I know him better than anyone in the world. When he stuttered over answering me and then started his answer with "Ummm..." I mentally knew something wasn't right. I was still foggy from surgery so it was hard to put it all together but I just knew something wasn't right. In the most basic terms possible Brandon told me that when the surgeon came into the waiting room, after my surgery, to tell him how everything went he explained that while they were removing my gallbladder they found a tumor on my liver. As I heard this I, the queen bee of worry, wanted to ask a multitude of questions. I wanted to understand this inside and out. I needed information and I needed it now. Unfortunately, Brandon both couldn't and wouldn't answer all of my questions right then and there. What he did know he wanted to wait and explain to me when I was fully aware. I was still very drowsy and dozing in and out but this unexpected news was weighing heavily on my conscious moments.

*****

As I'm sure you know (whether you really wanted to or not thanks to my seemingly endless #GoodbyeGallbladder posts...) I recently had my gallbladder removed. Say what?? Yes, it's true. Thankfully after only suffering through three gallbladder attacks, two that landed me in the emergency room, my doctor was able to find out what was wrong and quickly get me an appointment with a surgeon. It all happened so fast! Since my surgery several of my friends have shared with me that they endured gallbladder attacks for months and some even YEARS before they got an answer and eventual surgery date. So, for the quick work of my doctor and surgeon I am very grateful. I met my surgeon on a Wednesday for a pre-op appointment and had surgery Monday morning! Thank the Lord!

During my pre-op appointment my surgeon explained all that a gallbladder removal entails. It seemed simple enough. He told me and Brandon how he would make four incisions on my abdomen (one in my belly button) and simply remove my gallbladder. The surgery would only take about an hour. He told me that generally people need three or four days of real recovery time and probably a couple weeks before they really start feeling like themselves again. After talking to him and getting advice from both friends and family who had had this same surgery done I felt as prepared as I could be. I am a worry wart and so information is my greatest ally. Being armed with as many stories, as much advice and as many facts as possible calms me. I know for many people it would only cause more stress to research all the possibilities and ask all the what-if's but for me it settles my mind. I felt as prepared as a person can feel going into not only just gallbladder surgery but their FIRST surgery ever.

Now, I said I'm a worry wart and while that's true those that know me best would probably say that the term "worry wart" doesn't do me justice. I may very well be the most anxious person on the planet. I even get a stomach ache when my friends ask ME to choose which restaurant we should eat at! I'm telling you...it's bad! I've always been this way, for as long as I can remember. I was a nervous child. I was a worried teenager. I am an anxious adult. It's not something I'm proud of and I work really hard not to use it as an excuse but it's a part of my life. I fight it every single day and sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. The weekend before my surgery the anxiety definitely had the upper hand. I was nervous about a lot of things...being put to sleep, waking up, side effects from anesthesia, recovery, and even dying! I couldn't help it. Death was in the back of my mind. My surgeon assured me that he had already done 500+ gallbladder removals this year alone and that every single patient had made it through (he laughed at me when he said it...) but fear was still invading my thoughts. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I cleaned A LOT! I wanted to get it over with and not do it at all, all at the same time!

Like it or not, though, Monday morning arrived and it was time to get this show on the road. With the help of a team of friends we were able to drop the boys off at school early and arranged for them to be picked up as well. I had to be at the surgery center by 7:30AM. I was thankful for the early time because I wasn't allowed to eat or drink after midnight but that also meant my nerves were in full force first thing in the morning. I had treated myself to a new pair of yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt and some cute animal print Birkenstocks especially for surgery day! The surgeon told me to dress comfy and I took that very seriously. Plus it gave me something to actually look forward to that day! The surgery check-in process was easy enough. The woman that checked me in was more than pleasant and even told me about how easy her gallbladder surgery had been. It comforted me somewhat. Once I had my fancy ID bracelet on it was time to wait. I saw other families being called back only to eventually see the non-surgery needing family members come back out into the waiting room carrying all their loved ones possessions in a hospital bag marked "Personal Items". It was kind of eerie. There was also a television screen in the waiting room devoted to updating waiting family members where their loved ones were in the surgery process. Each patient had an ID number and that number would then change colors on the screen correlating to different codes showing when you were in pre-op, surgery, recovery phase 1 and eventually recovery phase 2. Again...kind of eerie. There were mostly super old people there which also made me feel a little unsettled. I just tried to talk to Brandon about who was bringing dinner for us that evening and what we should do over the upcoming weekend. Anything to distract me. Brandon said he was listening even though he was playing games on his phone but whatever...I've let it go. :)

When they called my name I did the only thing I knew to do to try and calm myself...I smiled at the nurse as Brandon and I walked through the surgery doors. Smiling always makes me feel better! The nurse noted my weight and then showed us to our room. "Room" is not the right term for what it really was. It was more of a "holding closet" honestly. It was barely big enough to fit a single rolling patient bed with a computer on the wall and two chairs pushed up against the wall that I could literally touch as I laid in the bed. There was also a shared bathroom. Despite the less than luxurious accommodations the staff was overly friendly and made me feel at ease. My surgical nurse was very sweet. After I was dressed (if you can call it that when you're wearing only a hospital gown) and hooked up to my IV, my pastor arrived. Brandon had told me that he thought Pastor McNabb would stop by and even though I was slightly mortified that my PASTOR would be seeing me make-up free, jewelry free, wearing the glasses I've had since high school (not good...) and feeling less than covered up in my paper thin gown I was really glad he came. He didn't talk serious the whole time or ask questions about my surgery...he just talked. We laughed and talked for a good 20 minutes before he asked to pray with me and then left the room as the nurse did my final preparations for surgery.

When the nurse told Brandon he had to step out and go to the waiting room my heart was pounding out of my chest but at this point I was ready. I was ready to feel better and just ready for them to put me to sleep! The surgical nurse wheeled me down a long hallway and then pushed through the surgery doors. I wasn't at all prepared for how shockingly COLD it was going to be in that surgery room! I must have reacted because the nurse apologized for not warning me about the temperature. The nurse introduced me to three men wearing surgical masks who would play different rolls during my surgery and then re-introduced me to my anesthesiologist. My new best friend! I scooted from my holding room bed to the surgical table and the last thing I remember was the anesthesiologist sticking something to my forehead as I looked up at the light hanging over my head. I remember thinking how big the light was. The rest is history.

The next thing I remember is the beginnings of waking up in the phase 1 recovery area. This is where they take you to wake up from anesthesia but where your loved ones aren't allowed to see you. I remember hearing sounds and struggling to force my eyes open. I would open them just long enough to see a nurse or two walk by and then they would close again. I would then work really hard to force my eyes open again, see a nurse walk by and then succumb to their heaviness. I repeated this process several times before a nurse walked over to my bed and said my name. I don't remember seeing her but I remember asking her for Brandon. It was hard to speak and I had to concentrate really hard but I was able to get out the word "Bran. don." in two breaths. My voice was raspy and it startled me.  The nurse said that I would be able to see Brandon soon. After that I don't have memory again until I was in the phase 2 recovery room.

I was sitting in a recliner with a blanket on me when Brandon walked in. I don't clearly remember him walking in I just suddenly knew he was there. I remember being cold and a nurse bringing me another blanket. Sometime later the nurse asked me if I wanted anything to drink and I asked her for water. She brought me a huge mug of water and some crackers. I couldn't eat the crackers. At this point my memory is fuzzy but I remember having tidbits of conversation with Brandon. One of those conversations rocked my world.

I remember asking Brandon, my eyes half open, tucked underneath a pile of warm blankets, if "I was okay..." I don't know why I worded it that way but I remember looking up at him and saying "Am I okay?" He didn't answer me right away. I asked again. Brandon and I have been together for over half our lives. I know him better than anyone in the world. When he stuttered over answering me and then started his answer with "Ummm..." I mentally knew something wasn't right. I was still foggy from surgery so it was hard to put it all together but I just knew something wasn't right. In the most basic terms possible Brandon told me that when the surgeon came into the waiting room, after my surgery, to tell him how everything went he explained that while they were removing my gallbladder they found a tumor on my liver. As I heard this I, the queen bee of worry, wanted to ask a multitude of questions. I wanted to understand this inside and out. I needed information and I needed it now. Unfortunately, Brandon both couldn't and wouldn't answer all of my questions right then and there. What he did know he wanted to wait and explain to me when I was fully aware. I was still very drowsy and dozing in and out but this unexpected news was weighing heavily on my conscious moments.

At some point, again it's very fuzzy, a hyperactive male nurse came in and told Brandon which doors he could pull the car up to. Brandon left and I was alone with this new chatty nurse. While he moved me from my warm recliner to a wheel chair he talked endlessly about how much faster he was than the other nurses at discharging patients. I was doing my best to take in all the nurse was saying but he talked so fast and I could barely keep my eyes open. I'm still not entirely sure what all he told me that day. I do remember that he walked just as quickly as he talked. My wheel chair ride was speedy! Before I knew it we were at the car and Brandon was helping me into the front seat. The drive home is a blur.

Over the next couple days friends brought meals, family called to check on me and I stayed in an almost constant drug induced sleep. Before surgery I had grandiose visions of recovering in my warm bed, hot coffee in hand while I read book after book...but that simply wasn't going to work out. Instead, I struggled to find a comfortable position to lay (adjusting my sleeping position was so painful), I slept the days away and I couldn't even turn on the TV let alone read. I only woke for brief moments varying from daytime to nighttime never fully aware of what time it was. It was the best sleep I've ever had but frustrating at the same time.

The day after surgery I was finally able to ask Brandon questions about the unexpected tumor the surgeon had found on my liver. I was already emotional from all the pain medication (and when I say emotional...I mean like so emotional there should be another word for it...) but discussing the tumor and hearing all the possibilities was enough to nearly send me over the edge. Brandon explained that the tumor they found was on my liver. It was approximately the size of a quarter. The surgeon was able to remove the entire tumor and had sent it to pathology for a biopsy. The next week was literally the L...O...N...G...E...S...T week of my entire life. I spent my time recovering in bed, taking short walks when I could and transitioning from liquids to solid foods. All the while waiting for my cell phone to ring with biopsy results. It was agonizing.

When I left the surgery center Monday morning the surgeon told Brandon we could expect my biopsy results within three or four days. So, when Thursday morning arrived I thought for sure today would be the day. I didn't let my cell phone out of my sight. I even took it to the bathroom! The minutes ticked by turning into hours until it finally passed 5:00 o'clock and I figured that was that. The results must not be in. I was literally desperate for my biopsy results to come before the weekend. By Friday morning I was off pain medication, getting up and down on my own and Brandon even went back to work leaving me by myself for the day. It actually felt good to be independent, even for just a few hours...if I could only receive some good news from my surgeon my day would be THAT much better. Just after lunchtime I couldn't take it anymore and called the surgeon's office myself. I spoke with the nurse. I explained that I had had surgery on Monday and was waiting for biopsy results. I could hear her fingers typing on the keyboard. I think my heart was racing just as fast as her fingers were punching the keys. There was silence for what felt like weeks and then finally the nurse began speaking. She said that my results were not available yet and that she thought it would be Monday. My heart went from racing to dropping in the one second it took her to say those words. I had to wait the weekend.

Saturday and Sunday were both good and bad. I was starting to feel more like myself, getting frustrated that I wasn't at 100% yet and couldn't do everything I wanted and at the same time I was growing increasingly worried about those stupid biopsy results. I knew there was nothing I could do about it over the weekend so I tried my hardest to put it out of my mind. Way easier said than done. I still napped a lot over that weekend. Every single time I woke from a nap I would remember what I was waiting for. I would remember that I was waiting to find out if I had cancer. I probably let my mind wander too much over that 48 hour weekend. I cried thinking that I wouldn't be able to go back to work. I cried wondering how I would explain this to my kids. I even cried thinking about being confined to this house and this bed for even longer if my results came back poorly. I tempered my anxiety with jokes. That's the only way I could think to cope. Brandon trimmed my hair one evening and I said "Hopefully the next time you cut my hair it's not shaving it because of cancer..." Brandon was mad. I knew it wasn't an appropriate joke but my feelings and emotions were all over the place. They were taking over. Joking was the only way I felt some sense of control.

Sunday morning I made it to church. I was really sore but I needed to go. I needed to not only feel like a functioning adult for one hour but I knew I needed some time in the presence of God. I couldn't let this wait, this fear continue to grip me. At the end of service Pastor McNabb invited anyone who needed prayer to come to the front. I walked forward and found a couple at the altar who I knew I could confide in and trust with my anxiety and my tears. I explained what was happening in my life and they both prayed. Their warmth, their love and their words brought so much comfort to me that morning. I didn't walk away without a stitch of fear or suddenly come to terms with my own mortality but I did walk away knowing that I had an ally in this. I knew that these two amazing people would continue to pray for me. I wasn't anxiety free but I felt surrounded by love and that was a huge help.

Finally, Sunday evening arrived and after putting the kids to bed and brushing my teeth I took a deep breath knowing that tomorrow I would either get good news or bad news. One word could change my life forever. It was hard to fall asleep that night but I did. Monday, unfortunately, felt a lot like Friday. After eating lunch I still hadn't heard from the surgeon's office so I called myself. I spoke with the same nurse. I silently said a prayer that she wasn't getting annoyed with me for calling so many times. It felt like déjà vu as I told her who I was, explained that I was waiting for biopsy results and I once again heard her fingers typing on her keyboard. It felt even more devastating this time, though, when she once again told me that my results hadn't come in yet. She told me it would be, at the earliest, tomorrow. Sigh. I felt frustrated. I just wanted to put this week behind me. I wanted to go through gallbladder surgery all over again and wake up to Brandon standing over me except this time I wanted him to say that "everything went better than expected" and I was going home with nothing to worry about. I was going home to a gallbladder and pain free future. Instead, I took a deep breath and called Brandon to let him know. Then we waited.

Monday night was rough. I didn't sleep at all. I had weird, half asleep dreams and racing thoughts. Tuesday morning I got the kids dressed, fed and out the door for school. Brandon went to work. I sat on the sofa in my sweatpants, my phone in my lap, praying that today would be the day. After watching a couple hours of the news I locked myself in my room and literally cried out to God. I read my Bible, turned on some worship music and sobbed. It was the ugliest of ugly cries. I'm not sure if I've ever sat before the Lord in that way. I didn't even have words to say. I just kept crying, tears streaming down my face. When I walked out of that room Tuesday, late morning, I knew it was going to be okay. I didn't know what the results would be and, in fact, I didn't even have confidence that my results would come back cancer free...I just simply knew it would be okay. In that time, shut off from the world, alone with God I suddenly realized that His path is better than my own EVEN IF that path includes cancer. Even typing those words now doesn't seem logical because it goes against everything my human nature wants and needs. It's unexplainable but it's true. I walked out of my bedroom knowing, beyond any doubt, that no matter the physical outcome of these tests it would be okay. I remember asking God "But what about my kids? What will happen to my kids if I'm not here?" and He simply reassured me that who my kids are now, who they are becoming and who they will be as adults will be shaped on a life He has planned whether I'm here or not. In fact, my absence might be the very thing that makes them into the men of God He needs them to be to reach their world in the future. God isn't surprised by sickness. God isn't surprised by anything! God spoke clear as day to me that morning and it brought me peace. It's all going to be okay.

Just before lunch on Tuesday my phone rang. I knew it was the surgeon's office by the caller ID. My heart leapt into my throat and I took a breath before answering. I said "hello..." and the surgeon's nurse introduced herself on the other end of the line. She said that the pathologist had called and said that they "found an abnormality" in my tumor and needed to send it for a second opinion. I was in shock. Taken off guard. I had no idea what to say. I did my best to hold it together while I asked her the few questions I could think of off the top of my head. I asked "What this means?", "How long it would take?" and "If I should be worried?" Unfortunately, she didn't have many answers for me. She said that this doesn't always indicate bad news and that the results could take anywhere from a day to a few days. I could tell she didn't know very much information and I felt I was torturing her with my need for information (not really torturing, she was very kind, but she simply didn't have any more information than she had already given me) and so I thanked her for the call and hung up. Once the call ended I couldn't catch my breath. Up to this point I had been able to reason away all of my fears and racing thoughts. Now, though, it felt real. I suddenly felt like I needed to be worried, I needed to cry, I needed to ask the really big what-ifs. I called Brandon. He was out to lunch with co-workers and had to step outside to talk to me. I was borderline hysterical. I was having trouble getting the words out and  could barely remember enough of my conversation with the nurse to relay it to Brandon. It was all a blur. Brandon asked if he needed to come home. I told him no. I knew that if he came home we would just sit there and worry. I didn't want a reminder of what was going on and Brandon being home in the middle of a work day would be just that, a reminder. I told Brandon to stay at work (he made me promise I'd call if I needed him) and then I went about my routine day as best I could. I did laundry, did my post surgery walks around the house and tried to eat when I was hungry. I only thought I was nervous about my results before...THIS was the real deal. I felt nothing short of pure panic.

It was 24 hours from that phone call before the surgeon's office called back. The previous one week and one day of waiting had been anxiety ridden but this was anxiety like I've never felt before. I fought it. I tried to remind myself of the peace the Lord had given me the morning before. I prayed and sang and smiled and cried. I cried a lot. I'm not sure I've ever been in a more difficult situation. My body was still recovering from major surgery and at the same time I was weighed down with overwhelming news. I wanted it to all go away. I tried to wish it away. But just as before every time I woke from a nap the fear was there. Every time I stopped laughing at something one of my kids said the fear was there. I wanted to escape but I couldn't. I felt trapped. For a full 24 hours I had to remind myself to take each and every breath.

Tuesday afternoon, during lunch, my phone rang one last time. Again, I knew it was the surgeon's office and as I reached for my phone I both couldn't wait to answer it and was tempted to let it go to voice mail at the same time. I wanted to hear the nurse's voice but at the same time I didn't. This was it. In the next moment I would be in tears. Whether they are tears of joy or sorrow, I knew the tears would flow. I slid my finger across my phone's screen and put it to my ear. "Hello...?" The nurse introduced herself (I wanted to scream out "Just tell me!") and then proceeded to say that they received the second opinion from pathology and my results were negative. I was a bit confused by the word "negative" and didn't react but in the next breath the nurse said "Your tumor is benign. There is no cancer." Literally, in that moment, I think I may have scared the nurse with my reaction! A huge breath released from my lungs and I said "OH MY GOODNESS! THANK YOU SO MUCH!" She chuckled. So did I.

One week later, I went to my post-op appointment with the surgeon who performed my gallbladder removal. During my appointment he went in to more detail about what type of tumor they found on my liver. I wish I could remember the name of the tumor now but it was long and to be honest I was so relieved it was benign that I wasn't super worried about remembering its name. Regardless, the tumor they found is a type that rarely if ever turns cancerous. Thankfully my surgeon was able to remove the entire tumor and so according to the surgeon I have "no reason to worry" about anything being left that could possibly turn cancerous in the future. The one characteristic about this type of tumor that would have most likely effected me in the future is that it is known to grow quite large over time. If it hadn't been for the fact that I was having my gallbladder removed and the tumor hadn't been found so early the surgeon believed that in the next few years I probably would have ended up at the doctor's office with discomfort from the size of the tumor, assuming it had continued to grow as they likely do. He said at that time I probably would have had to have it removed anyway for both comfort and health reasons. The surgeon also told me that when this type of tumor appears in other areas of the body it has a greater chance of turning cancerous but when found on the liver the chances of this tumor being malignant are extremely low. I was relieved to have more information but still on such a high from the overall test results that all this extra information was just icing on the cake.

I in no way want to exaggerate this experience in my life. I don't have cancer. I am not a cancer survivor. I have no idea (nor do I wish to know) what it would have been like to actually hear the words "You have cancer..." but those ten days of waiting in my life taught me so much. I won't go as far as to say they changed my life. Many people have to wait for biopsy or other test results and while scary it isn't the same as facing a life changing diagnosis. However the places my mind went during those ten days revealed to me things about myself, about my friends and family and about my God that HAVE changed me. I already knew I was an anxious person, a fearful person even. That came as no surprise to me. What I learned, though, was that I'm strong. I think we've all imagined in our minds what it might be like or how we might react if we ever received a devastating diagnosis. I know I have. I've imagined it as the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to me. I've imagined myself crying non-stop and being incapable of functioning in everyday life. While I still am fortunate to never have had to hear those dreaded words I have heard that something unexpected was found that required testing and even a second opinion. This is the first time something like this has ever happened to me and boy was it scary. BUT I made it. I survived the process. Did I cry? Yep. Did I worry? Yep. Did I let my mind drift to places I shouldn't and have some dark moments? Yep. As difficult as the waiting process was I'm hanging onto the fact that it didn't beat me. I went to church. I got up and got my kids ready for school. I did laundry and went for walks. Sure my mind was racing and my body was trying to heal but I was much stronger through this process than I ever imagined I would be. Even Brandon commented on it. He said he was so scared to tell me the news of my tumor because he thought I would cry until the moment the results came back. I'm proud of myself for how I handled this. Both the ups and the downs.

I kept this news very private. Only a handful of people knew what was going on. That was my choice. Those few that stood with me through this were unbelievably strong. They prayed for me, checked on me, encouraged me and even cried with me. I've always known I have the best family and friends in the world but everyone truly went above and beyond for me. My parents, my sisters, my pastor and his wife. I'm a lucky girl. My whole life I've purposefully kept my circle of friends small. I'm not the most social person in the world (okay...I'm actually EXTREMELY anti social) and so by choice I can count my best friends on one hand. That small group of people mean the world to me and as we continue to grow older together and go through all the twists and turns life throws our way as a team, leaning on one another, our friendships just grow stronger. I don't say it enough, I love each and every one of you with my whole heart.

When you have a relationship with Jesus you know, in your head, that He has a plan for you and it is a plan for good...but sometimes knowing that very thing in your heart is a battle. The moment Brandon told me the surgeon had removed a tumor from my liver I began reciting all the cliché Bible verses and promises to myself. Yes, this brought me comfort but again that peace was more in my head than my heart. I couldn't help but be afraid. That one morning, though, that Tuesday morning, my heart finally received peace. True peace. I've never experienced peace that passes understanding for myself but now I know why they call it that. The peace I felt after that ugly cry before the Lord wasn't logical. I'm human. I should be afraid of cancer. And, in fact, I was afraid (still am!)...but I was also at peace. I knew whether I was healthy or whether I was about to begin the fight of my life that it was okay with my soul. I heard a saying once that has never made more sense to me than it does now and it went like this, "It may not be well with my circumstances but it is well with my soul." Yes! That's exactly how I felt. No matter the results, no matter the process, no matter the outcome my heart was at peace. I've been a Christian my entire life. I can't remember a time when I wasn't involved in my church and working every day to fall more in love with the Lord but in that moment my trust in and love for the Lord went deeper than I've ever known it before. I feel a different connection with Jesus now. A new faith and a new sense of security in Him.

I'm 31 years old. I know that the life I have ahead of me to live will be filled with medical tests, health scares and countless surgeries. This was the first but I know it won't be the last. When I talked to my sister the day after receiving my test results I told her that while I hope and pray it's a long time before anything like this ever happens to me again the one thing I know is that I CAN DO IT! I am stronger than I give myself credit for, my friends and family are just as wonderful as I thought and my Jesus is constant. He's exactly what I need. I certainly don't WANT to wait ten days for a biopsy result ever again but I CAN DO IT! For this anxiety ridden girl, living in a scary world, that alone brings me comfort. The fact that I not only endured a cancer scare but did it with some smiles, a few laughs and while functioning as a mom and wife makes me proud. I now see myself as bigger AND smaller in the grand scheme of things. Life is beautiful, my kids are beautiful, my husband is amazing but my purpose in Christ is the greatest gift of all. I wish I could say that this experience cured me of my anxiety but if I did I'd be lying. No, I still freak out when the boys' school calls thinking there has been some news worthy tragedy, I still wonder if a little headache is something far more serious and yes I STILL get anxiety when my friends ask me to choose which restaurant we should eat at! Ha! The difference now though (and it's a big one) is that when those worries rear their ugly heads and I feel my pulse quicken and my stomach turn into knots I know that I CAN DO IT, I know my family and friends are there to listen and I know in my head AND my heart that my Jesus has got it all under control. No matter what.