JoyinthaJourney

So, this is curious…

In May of 2023 I had my first ever “congratulations you’re 40, lady” mammogram and in September 2024, my second. Both of these screenings came back normal with a note about having dense breasts following one of the mammograms. In September 2025 I was due for my routine annual but I had to reschedule it. I tried to make the appointment again but something came up. I could sense a nudging in my spirit not to put this one off as I was admittedly tempted to do. In January of 2026 I did reschedule the mammogram interestingly enough before/ between noticing symptoms prior to that appointment in February that changed everything.

The more I think about it, the further back I go, and remember and connect symptoms I had been having to this present cancer. I have an auto immune disease as well as an endocrine/metabolic disease that present me with chronic fatigue already. The fatigue was nearly a debilitating feeling but coupled with a nasty cold I chocked it up to. My nipple on the diseased breast itched intensely with intermittent shooting pain. I remember remarking to my husband how badly it itched and assumed I was suffering with dry skin. During this time my left armpit had been sore like one would expect after straining it through exercise or lifting weights. The breast also felt exceptionally tender which I would disregard to hormonal reasons and my premenstrual cycle. It was when I got out of the shower and was rubbing oil onto my chest that I discovered the lump. It felt hard, like a knot. I immediately withdrew my hand  in disgust and got dressed. I had my husband feel it to make sure I wasn’t being overly dramatic.  My husband confirmed that it did not feel right and urged me to have it checked out. In February I went to my mammogram knowing I would be the one to tell them about the lump, not the other way around. When the mammographer asked me if I had any concerns I pointed to the lump to which she replied by asking permission to feel herself. I knew by the expression on her face it was cause for concern and she proceeded to call my physician before doing the exam. It felt like a small eternity in the room as I waited for her to return and I didn’t have my phone to distract me. I chuckled to myself this was a lifetime movie moment. Upon her return I was informed I would immediately have an ultrasound. Thankfully the ultrasound was done that same day and then I was sent home to wait on the results.

I am not known for my patience so I naturally watched my chart like a salacious soap opera anticipating the next plot. My ultrasound obviously came back abnormal so we scheduled the biopsy which I found uncommonly uncomfortable. This, too, came back abnormal and revealed a BI-RADS score of 5 which in layman’s terms means you probably have cancer, babe. In seriousness there is a greater than 95 percent chance of malignancy. It was revealed that I also had cancer in one lymphnode.

At this point you should know I knew I had cancer even though it was not officially confirmed.  I did not feel fearful for myself. My mind naturally drifted to having to tell my husband, children, and extended family and friends. I should also mention that this was strangely not a surprise to me although I did not forsee this particular set of circumstances. I have been praying on and off for God to change some things by whatever means necessary or in my very own words, : “GIVE THEM A REASON TO NEED YOU”. Dangerous prayers. I knew from the outset this was going to be used by God for good although I still do not know how and may never on this side of my mortality.

My diagnosis to this present is invasive ductal carcinoma in the left breast and in one lymphnode. This is the most common type of breast cancer which works in my favor and is estrogen and progesterone positive. The cancer is stage 2, grade 3. This is considered an early and treatable stage which is cause for gratitude and perspective most assuredly! I have experienced, although in rare exceptions, social interactions that seemed to hint this is a light inconvenience. Most people are and have been lovely and supportive but I have had some hurtful and dismissive albeit unintentionally so, comments since this cropped up. I am someone who lives in my head to a fault so I have had to “take every thought captive “and hide myself in what I know to be true while offering the grace and mercy I so desperately need and require in return.

This has been such an eye opening experience in a myriad of ways that I would not seek to evade even as I would certainly not choose this. I have seen and felt the prayers of people on my behalf as well as had an educational course on this disease and the many a misconception that surrounds it.  My marriage seems to be in a sweet spot where I am able to see my husband with a fresh wind of appreciation as he remains a strong force for me to lean on. I still struggle with guilt that he has not placed on me for putting him through this mentally and financially. I often wrestle with wether or not I should be public with this especially when many other women have had this significantly worse and even died. I have questioned how the attention does open me up to unsolicited feedback and if I can handle it. In all of the exhaustive overthinking I arrive at the same conclusion which is I am to share this.

I have received encouraging confirmation from a few persons who said they found my videos/posts informative and helpful. I have also been able to speak to medical professionals about my faith and the hope I have even in uncertainty.  I don’t know what the future holds, I don’t know what “healing” looks like or if this cancer will come back after surgery and treatment. I do know that even when it’s not okay, I will be okay. I don’t have to recite empty platitudes because I know the one who formed my body and heart. Praise God!

It’s an ache and a hope both that I feel. Not either or. I celebrate a risen savior who doesn’t ask me to pump myself up with positive thinking. I am invited to dance with tears streaming down my frame. I am welcome with a heavy spirit and long face. I am not confused or ashamed, nor do I need to explain. A broken heart is an open heart.

I often feel a deep well of sadness at Easter for a myriad of reasons.
If I feel alone, I am in good company . A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3), is the one who sits beside me in the pew. Invite him into your mess. He will sit with you, too.

I wonder what will remain in the wake of my absence ? What will be saved and what will be tossed ? What silly little tokens will have been left behind deemed as worth value or fit for the garbage? I wish not to leave a miserable mess for my loved ones to clean up. Will it be said that I counted the cost?

If there is anything worth treasuring let it be that my life pointed to Jesus. The good. The bad. The ugly. I want it to be known that I loved harder than I fought and in my weakness God was only made stronger. Forgiveness offered and ammends made, relationships restored and healing pursued. I can live knowing I’ll be forgotten so long as my Christ shone all the brighter.

Well, okay, I suppose if I could have a say- I would not mind if I’m recalled with a fond smile when a song on the radio plays. Whilst a poem is read, a hymnal sung. An awkwardly exuberant dance. Pink flamingos and sharks. The scent of a newborns head. The waves crashing in the ocean, a crisp autumnal day. Over a cup of tea or coffee upon a stack of dusty old books. Playing in glamorous make up or sporting my favorite sweats.

I would rather collect souls than things that collect dust or rot. I’d rather arrive in heaven tired and worn from a work well done than carefully preserved. It matters not what I was but who he is.

The sun’s out but I don’t feel like dancin’ my heart is carrying a weight that won’t lift

Behind closed doors tears betray the face I want to wear

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The sky’s blue but my heart is slowly dying

Sometimes the picture don’t match the frame

Feeling sick and tired, driving to pick my son up from his preschool and had to pull over to snap this. The thought in my heart mused, “only God can take a dead looking landscape and make it look beautiful and romantic “

No path for me, that I can see. No clear career or calling in which to bring out me. I’ve been sitting on talents I do not want to hide, can not tell if they’re truly inside

Underdeveloped and groping for the chance to prove that I am more than someone unable to move

Tired of waiting for permission to do all that my heart tends to eschew

How long until I have permission to act?

Lord, if this ambition is a grandiose delusion then let me be content to stop dreaming this dream

A cuddle on the couch, a conversation in the car, I breathe in your magic and exhale what you are , who you will be

a season to check my spirit and pinch myself to remember the living answered prayers walking outside my heart

Coffee and prayer with a friend…In the near back ground with footed pajamas shuffling on the floors I am needed and important even in obscurity

A season of starting and stopping, not checking all the boxes before creating a new list. Back to the drawing board, Putting dreaming on the shelf, this life was not to be lived for just myself

I haven’t the time to compare my journey to another’s nor is it fair to define myself by the measure of a fickle world

I’m in a season of legos and stepping on them hurts but the love I give the owner will carry on to eternity

The love I give never wasted the time invested here is built to last

Sometimes it’s the quiet that senses you moving , in the getting there that often hurts, causes me to squirm. I fill the spaces at every turn until I am blocked in. With nothing to distract me from myself, what would you have me learn ?

Sometimes disappointment is a gift and loneliness a best friend, here I find you after evading you for days, maybe weeks . Refine me, God. I’m all spilled out, fill me up again.