I have a new oncologist.
Twelve years ago in Markham, Ontario, my cancer journey began. I prayed that God would choose my oncologist, and He picked the best one I could have imagined. She walked me and my family through our darkest days and quietly, confidently gave us hope.
Seven years ago when we moved back to my hometown of Meadville, Pennsylvania, I sought a local oncologist to continue monitoring my journey. He watched me closely, scheduled tests when needed, saw me a few times a year, and guided my mom through her own cancer journey from 2021 to the present. We were grateful again for God's choice.
Then last winter he moved back to New York City to care for his parents. I knew exactly which doctor I wanted next: a breast-cancer specialist, highly respected in our area.
I saw her for the first time at the beginning of April. I'm sure Greg offered to go with me, but I told him, "I'm okay. It's just a meet-and-greet." I didn't think I was nervous, but my blood pressure that day was surprisingly high.
My new doctor was kind, classy, and confident. She looked at my records and told me that the protocol for triple-negative (non-hormonal) breast cancer has changed drastically from what I had in 2013. My first thought was that she was going to prescribe more rounds of chemo with immunotherapy. But I'm 12 years out from my first cancer. My fears were unfounded. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she looked at CT scans of my spleen. In early 2023 when my PCP investigated severe abdominal pain and discovered a large necrotic fibroid, a lesion on my spleen was also revealed. Follow-up scans show it's still there, seemingly unchanged. What is it? My new doctor scheduled an ultrasound to get another look. Fear came crawling back.
She also noted that I've been on Tamoxifen (an estrogen receptor blocker) since my second breast cancer (estrogen and progesterone positive) in 2016. She seemed surprised that I'm still taking it. And when I casually described the blood clot that ran from my forearm to armpit during chemo, she instantly checked the contraindications for Tamoxifen and told me we were stopping it that day and she was running bloodwork. The stranglehold of fear increased.
Finally she mentioned some other things she might recommend--PET scans, bone marrow biopsy--based on my other health records. And then I began to cry as I told her I'd just lost a dear friend to advanced cancer. I thanked her for being diligent, but I was afraid. She passed me a tissue and empathized. "Surviving is hard," she said. She's right. As more friends and acquaintances fight cancer, I wonder, Why am I still here? Will I be next?
Over the next 2 days I had about 15 vials of blood drawn
As I drove from appointment to appointment, I felt strange deja vu--a detached sense of going through the motions, following orders, waiting for results. Although I feel perfectly normal, I wonder what they'll find. I think, Not again, Lord. Please, not again. It's like starting my journey all over. No longer am I a survivor--I'm a fellow traveller with my cancer-fighting friends, waiting for another diagnosis. One of my survivor sisters described it as starting down the same road we walked before. We fear it will end in cancer again. And we don't think we can endure it.
But what also comes back is the deep sense of God's presence that I only feel in these moments of crisis. The fellowship of His sufferings. The Scriptures that remind me I am hidden under His wings, as close to his heart as I can get.
With these health scares I'm blindsided They come out of nowhere to perfectly healthy me. I reel and stagger, How can this be? But Jesus stands on my blindside and blocks the blow. I still feel the shudder and shake, but not to the extent that I would without Him. He took the worst of the shock when He hung on the cross so I wouldn't have to. Then He came back to life so I could live forever just by accepting His payment for my sin. My life will go on, no matter what.
"O Death, where is your sting? O Grave, where is your victory?" The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God Who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.¹
I am eternally grateful.
¹From the Bible, I Corinthians 15:55-57
Credit: https://proclamationcoalition.com
