It happened.  The callback I always wondered if I would get.  The dreaded one.  “We see something on your mammogram that needs additional imaging.” 



At age 44, my mother, Judy, was diagnosed with breast cancer.  At age 51, she passed away from it.  I was only 19 when she died.  So, to be proactive with my own health, I began getting mammograms at age 33 due to my family history of this disease.  With each passing year’s imaging, I wondered if this would be the year that I would get the same diagnosis.  For some reason, I assumed that my mother’s cancer journey would mean mine someday.  But, at age 55, here I am.  I have lived four years beyond my mother at this point.  I am always surprised by that and astonished that I have been spared the same fate.

The day of my ultrasound to check the “something” that showed up on my films, my sister, Beth, and my best friend, Rashelle, came with me.  Sometimes we just need that extra support around us and I was happy for their company.  Unsure of what the findings would be, I wanted to make sure I had my tribe handy.  I told my husband to just go about his day and work to keep his mind off things.  After a more in-depth mammogram and subsequent ultrasound, it was determined that what showed up on my screening was just a fluid-filled cyst.  Nothing to worry about and they would see me back next year for my annual mammogram.  I was thoroughly relieved, but, also, felt a bit guilty.  Why was it nothing for me, but not for my mother?  Or why did I get a clean bill of health when my best friend sitting in the waiting room was in the throes of battling stage 4 breast cancer of her own?

As I sat in the changing room waiting for my name to be called prior to the extra testing, I realized how out of my control all of this was.  I was putting my life in the doctor’s hands, trusting they would read the imaging correctly.  And if it came back as cancer, I would have to rearrange my entire life around this disease.  The old adage of if you have your health, you have everything, suddenly became very real for me.  When our health fails, life comes to a screeching halt.  We are at the mercy of doctor appointments, treatments, follow-ups, medical insurance issues, etc.  I didn’t have time for any of those and wasn’t up for that kind of disruption in my life.  But, if the results determined I had cancer, I would have no other option but to forge ahead and deal with it, even if I didn’t want to.  The disease would control every aspect of my life, and that was very unnerving for me.  Control makes us feel powerful, safe, capable, confident and predictable.  Releasing our control to others or our circumstances makes us feel the complete opposite.  I sat there feeling very vulnerable, scared, and unsure.  I did the only thing I knew what to do in that moment and that was to pray.  I prayed to the One who actually does have control over my life and that is God.  He would know what to do and He would provide me the peace I needed.  The unknowns of my future hung over my head.  Being the planner that I am, cancer was not on my agenda and I didn’t want to have to reschedule my calendar, my 5-year plan, or relinquish my wants for a disease that had no business being in my life.  I like to be the organizer, and none of this was allowing me that opportunity.  It’s crazy how much we like to hold the reins and not let go. 

When I was told that I don’t, in fact, have cancer, I almost cried.  I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I felt like I had my life back.  That once again I had control over things.  But, did I really? Do we ever?  Tomorrow, my life could change on a dime.  A sudden accident could wipe out my perfectly planned life that I had designed for myself and my loved ones.  As much as we like to believe it, we really don’t have that much control after all.  It’s so important to hold onto the reins loosely realizing that the curve balls can come at any second.  We have to be ready to release and set free whatever expectations we have.  The unknowns in life are what keep us on our toes or, for us Believers, on our knees. 

I don’t know why I thought my path in life would look like my mother’s, combating a 7-year war with cancer.  I don’t know why my best friend is fighting every day to cure the cancer that wars within her body while my scans showed cancer-free.  There are some battles won, some lost, and some continue on over an extended period of time.  The uncharted happenings of our future can be bewildering, challenging, and all too frustrating.  We want a happy ending.  We want to know how our journeys pan out.  We want the big picture, now!  But, instead, we have today and today only.  Our paths are not shown too far ahead intentionally.  I suppose it is because our bodies and lives are not truly our own.  They are here for a larger purpose than we can understand or fathom. 

A good friend of mine shared this quote with me.  I love it because it is a reminder that these shells of our bodies are His, and used for His mission and His only, as we so often forget.  We are just along for the ride:

“My Lord, I have mistreated You all of my Christian life.  I have treated You like a servant.  When I wanted you, I called for you; when I was about to engage in some work, I beckoned you to come and help me perform my task.  I have sought to use You only as a willing servant to help me in my self-appointed and chosen work.  I shall do so no more.  I give you this body of mine; from my head to my feet.  I give you my hands, my limbs, my eyes and lips, my brain; all that I am within and without, I hand over to you for you to live in it the life that you please.  You may send this body to Africa or lay it on a bed with cancer.  You may blind the eyes or send me with your message to Tibet.  You may take this body to the Eskimos or send it to a hospital with pneumonia.  It is your body from this moment on.  Help yourself to it." – Dr. Walter L. Wilson