A Long Journey on an Invisible Floor

Many of you have been reaching out with words of support and encouragement as my meeting with the surgeon approached yesterday. Today alone I've had texts pouring in to see how I'm doing. I appreciate it so much. If I don't respond please know that its not because I don't want to talk but more because life is just...a lot right now.

I've always claimed that my greatest desire in life was to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. I've adamantly preached that our lives belong to God for His purposes and that we need to hold our hands open to the good gifts HE wants to fill them with. For years I've espoused that it was incredibly important for Christians to suffer well. To show everyone around them that God is good, kind and gentle despite their circumstances. To be honest that's still my heart's cry but now I sit in the middle of a nightmare and I fear intensely that I will not live out what I have so passionately told others is true. 

This morning I woke up with a massive headache and the world was tilting. I was terribly thirsty and couldn't drink enough. Before long I realized that I had cried so hard yesterday that I had dehydrated myself. I was gifted a beautiful quilt by a sweet friend yesterday and all I want to do is curl up under it and hide away in my chair. Thankfully I had scheduled a visit with another dear friend today so I haven't had the luxury of hiding and spiralling. Even still, I'm tired and discouraged and if hiding could make me and all of this disappear than I'd probably do it. 

Tuesday night the Tumour Board was presented with my case and it was described by my surgeon as "a very heated debate" and "a fight" as the board was split in their opinion of what should be done. Yesterday the surgeon explained the seriousness of the situation and the pros and cons of each side. The next step was then in my hands to decide what we felt was best. We have made the decision to go forward with a radical auxiliary dissection. This is a second surgery which will remove 15-20 lymph nodes from my left side. These will then be tested for cancer. If cancer is present in any of the lymph nodes then I will under go radiation and 8 rounds of chemo. If the lymph nodes are clear then I will only under go 6 rounds of chemo. Unfortunately, an axillary lymph node dissection comes with a risk of losing the use of my left arm or, at the very least, having permanent issues with swelling, frozen shoulder, etc. I have been referred to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre where I will be assigned an Oncologist. 

Unfortunately, the tumour came back as Triple Negative which means that it is the most difficult form of breast cancer to treat. It has a very high recurrence rate and metastasis rate. It is for this reason that they are wanting to be so thorough and the treatment is called "adjuvant" meaning that it will be done to destroy any undetected cancer cells circulating through my body. This type of treatment has been shown to drop the recurrence rate. 

The journey is going to be long and I have no idea how we are going to do it. I feel overwhelmed by the idea of not being able to parent at full capacity or be a teammate to my husband in the day to day events of life. I've already reached the point where I could never repay the love or generosity that has been poured out on us and I don't like that position. This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to be healthy and to give my girls a stable, sunny, carefree child hood that would never be tainted by the threat of death. I wanted to get back to life and focus on just trying to survive the organized chaos that the little years throw at me. I wanted to work through the messy self-image issues that a double mastectomy brings and begin giving extra care and attention to my marriage. However, that doesn't seem like what God has sovereignly ordained is best. 

I keep looking down to see where to put my foot for the next step and all I see is nothing.

No path. No ground. The floor is invisible. And yet, I keep trusting that God will hold me up if I take another step and with each step He keeps me from falling. Over and over again He is proving that I can trust Him to take care of me, to provide for me, to hold onto me. So while the floor is invisible I'll keep walking and trusting that He will give whatever is needed to hold up my foot on the next step. 

I don't have any profound words of wisdom. I don't have any amazing words of praise to God. I don't even have a smile right now. I don't want to fight this cancer battle. I want to quit. And yet...I have this Jesus who is able to sympathize with everything I'm experiencing. I have this God who is surrounding me with witnesses who are emphatically refusing to let me quit. I have this faith which is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. 

So, I take another step on the invisible floor with faith in my invisible God...

Rachel