A double whammy

While I was still reeling from my Thursday radiation oncology appointment and being told that I would probably need chemo, I had another blow the next day (Friday).

My cell phone rang while I was sitting at my computer at the school district office. When I answered it, I was surprised to hear the voice of Dr. Astrid Morris, the radiation oncologist I'd met earlier in the week at Swedish Hospital.

She was calling to tell me that the Swedish pathologists had gone over the reports sent to them by my Mount Vernon doctors. She said that the margins around my tumor were NOT 2mm (as had been reported), but more like 1.5mm. She said that 2mm is the absolute minimum required.

At first, I wasn't quite sure what she was telling me. I thought that she was telling me that because of the difference, I wouldn't be qualified for the Mammosite procedure. So I told her that I'd already decided against the Mammosite treatment.

She told me, "No, I'm saying that you can't go forward with chemo or radiation or ANYTHING until you have re-excision surgery to get bigger margins. There is too high a chance of recurrence with these kind of margins. We usually like to see 5mm margins."

Once again, I felt like a deer in the headlights. Here I was 6 weeks out from my lumpectomy and I was hearing this news. My surgeon had told me that a second surgery was sometimes a possibility, but most people find out one or two weeks after their surgery, not 6 weeks later!

So Dr. Morris said that she wanted to fax a letter to my surgeon right away. I told her that I would wait to hear back from him and she said, "No, you need to contact him RIGHT AWAY and get into see him." Obviously, she struck the fear of God into my heart.

I thanked her for the information and said that I was trying to absorb everything--that this was obviously something that I wasn't expecting to hear. She said, "Well, I realize that, but you'd rather get this information, I think, and know it now so you can do something about it."

I completely agreed with her; it's just that being told you need more surgery when you thought you had it behind you is . . . well, a little unnerving.

So I called my surgeon's office right away and was told that he was booked up until October. I then explained to his receptionist that I needed to get in to see him right away and why. She transferred me to his medical assistant and I told her the same thing.

She told me that, fortunately, they had an opening on Monday afternoon, so she booked me. I then hung up the phone and called Dr. Morris back to give her my surgeon's fax number so she could send him the letter.

So now two days have passed since that conversation and I'm still processing everything. I was literally in a daze--like a zombie--but now I'm coming to grips with it.

This little lump--less than a centimeter--has surely wrought some big changes to my life. I look ahead and see surgery, chemo, and radiation, followed by hormone therapy. Not to mention menopause. Not to mention side effects and fitting all of it in with my job and family life.

The future looks very daunting from this point of view. The only thing that helps me put one foot in front of the other is knowing women who have gone before me and have been through all of this and are survivors. If it weren't for them, I don't know what I'd do.

I have never really asked, "Why me?" or said, "It's not fair," because I've known for a long time that life isn't fair and the next question after "Why me?" is "Why not me?" I'm nobody special and others have been through much worse. It really helps for me to keep it in perspective.

Today I could hardly get motivated to get out of bed to go to church (and I love going to our church). I just didn't want to have to talk to people and explain what's happening and put on a cheery outlook.

My husband gently prodded me to get out of bed (after I laid there and shed a few tears). I realized that I don't know how to pray right now. I just feel like a rag doll that's been battered against a big boulder and I'm all out of "snuff." In fact, the stuffing in the rag doll is starting to pop out (might as well carry on the analogy) The best prayer I can muster is, "Lord, help me. Have mercy on me."

Sometimes I think that's all we need to pray. After all, He made me, He understands my weaknesses, and He hears my heart.

I forced myself to get out of bed and I went to the computer to check my email. I looked down to see my open prayer book on the desk. The first thing I saw was the "Prayer For The Acceptance of God's Will." I thought, "Hmmm . . . looks like this is a message for me."

So I read the prayer and it gripped my heart. I knew it was for me at that very moment in time.

Here is what it says:

"O Lord, I do not know what to ask of You (so true!). You alone know what are my true needs. You love me more than I myself know how to love."

"Help me to see my real needs which are concealed from me. I do not dare ask for a cross or for consolation. I can only wait on You."

"My heart is open to You. Visit and help me, for the sake of Your great mercy. Strike me down and heal me; cast me down and raise me up."

"I worship in silence Your Holy will and Your unsearchable ways. I offer myself as a sacrifice to You. I have no other desire than to fulfill Your will. Teach me to pray and You Yourself pray through me. Amen."

The whole prayer resonated with me and I knew it was the Holy Spirit helping me to pray when I didn't know how to pray. The phrase, "Strike me down and heal me; cast me down and raise me up" struck me like an arrow to the heart. I thought I knew what it meant, but wasn't quite sure I was getting it.

A little while later, we went on to church. Today in the Orthodox Church is one of the 12 great feasts of the church, the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, which has been celebrated by Christians since September 14, 326. Read more about it here.

Father David gave a homily (sermon) that was one of those talks when everybody thinks, "Hey, did he say that just so I would hear it?" Reminds me of those movies with portraits where the eyes have holes with scary eyes that follow you no matter where you stand. And you think, "Is he looking at me? He IS looking at me!"

So Father David spoke about the cross and how without the cross, there is no resurrection. And we as Christians all have some kind of cross in our lives (a burden to bear). And it doesn't do us any good to complain that "it's too hard being a Christian," because after all, life is hard.

He used the example of being in a trying marriage or having a special needs child or a physical malady. These kind of things are our crosses to bear. And we are called to bear them, not to lay them down and run away. We actually need to prostrate ourselves before that cross and ask God to give us grace to bear it.

Because part of bearing our cross (with Christ) is that we also partake in His resurrection. And I felt like the whole sermon was for me and helped me understand the phrase, "Strike me down and heal me; cast me down and raise me up."

I knew that it meant that even though I may be bowed down with anxiety and physical suffering, God can and will heal and raise me up, but not as the same Dana. I will be a changed Dana, a Dana more filled with His grace. And He loves me that much to allow that to happen to me. Because I am in the process of being saved.

As Orthodox Christians everywhere believe, we are not just "saved", as if we've got our tickets to heaven punched and it's all a done deal. No, we have been saved, we are being saved, and we will be saved. It's all a continuing process.

I firmly believe that dealing with cancer is part of my saving process. For whatever reason, I have been called to carry this particular cross. I pray that God gives me the grace, strength, faith, hope, and love to get through it and on to the other side. And I know that the only thing that would prevent that is my giving in to unbelief or despair.