Gulp

It was a gorgeous early Fall morning as I drove down the highway today. I was scheduled to spend the day in Atlanta with a routine physical in the morning and a couple of visits and errands afterward. One word changed all that.

During my breast exam, my OB/GYN discovered a lump. We both realized it at the same time.

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever felt that before?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

My first response was peace. I am only 35. Surely this is benign. I have a family history of breast cancer (both maternal and paternal grandmothers) but in their cases it was post menopausal. Statistically speaking this points toward a benign report.

I was promptly scheduled for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, which took place this afternoon. (I am actually writing this part from the waiting room.)

My emotions are mixed. I am trusting that this is like most mammograms of women my age—benign. I can honestly say that I do not fear for myself. The thought of death, being bald, chemo—it all seems sort of relative right now. When I allow the Enemy to get a foothold and start taunting me, it actually has everything to do with my children and my husband. I don’t want them to have to walk through cancer.

There are only two other people here in the waiting room with me. To my right is a stoic white man who appears to be about 70. He is staring straight ahead at the wall as he waits for his wife. On my left is a sweet-spirited, older African American woman accompanying her friend. When the friend was called back, the sweet friend left behind bowed her head, let out a sigh and started to pray. I love women and the way we love and support one another.

(I just finished with the actual mammogram.)

As I went through the mammogram process I tried to remind myself how very trustworthy God is—and that statistically I am not at risk for this being a big deal. Yet, when the nurse asked questions about number of pregnancies I thought of my children and I could not stop the tears. I may walk out of here in a bit and breathe a huge sigh of relief because of a clean report, but this is where it starts for so many women. It is overwhelming.

(I just finished the ultrasound.)

Everything is clear. I get to walk back to my car and get to school just in time to greet my children. Mercifully, they will have no idea why I squeeze them extra tightly this afternoon.

(Written tonight)

This is not what I expected today. I had plans—God had other ones. I feel like I have run an emotional marathon and although I am greatly relieved, the experience has left me feeling a bit changed. I have been through near-death, I know how fragile life is and yet moments like these still remind me. I am not trying to be overly dramatic or morbid, but I do think we live better when we keep the right perspective.

"Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. " -Psalm 39:4-5

"Don't waste your life." -John Piper