If you don't know by now, I write in order to process things. That's what this particular blog is about: processing. But, I'm at a stage with the material in this post where it's still new and fresh. I'm not reminiscing on something from 20 years ago. This is the here-and-now for me. So, while I never want to restrict anyone's freedom to comment how they will, just know that I care very deeply about this post.
I was at the Peach Tree Mall in Columbus, Georgia when my doctor called and asked if I had a few minutes to talk. I kid you not, my heart dropped into my stomach. I knew this was not going to be good. I've received a lot of bad news over the phone, but this? I didn't know about this. "Well, the pathologists looked at your mole and you do have malignant melanoma." Her words came so fast that I barely had time to get over to a bench to sit down. The tears started streaming down my face. Instantly, I felt like my body was floating, like I was in a dream. "Okay," I managed to stammer into the phone. "What does this mean?"
She talked ever-so kindly about how they were going to be with me every step of the way and she talked about how there was a real chance that the cancer had spread based on the melanoma's depth into my skin. But, there I was, in the Peach Tree mall, still floating. I had to gain control. Malignant? Wait, I have cancer? It was too much. My doctor said she wanted to take the liberty of scheduling things over at Mayo Clinic in Rochester. Whoa, now this is really serious, I thought. I floated back to Will, who was with Jadyn and Janessa and Willie and I could barely utter the words. I was so happy Jasmine had gone off to dinner. There would have been no hiding it then. All I could tell Will was that it's malignant. I thought he was going to lose it right there in that store. But he couldn't. I couldn't. We were in the Peach Tree mall, after all, on vacation.
I rarely look at my skin. Yes, yes, I look at my body when I shower and bathe, but really look at my skin? Not so much. But, this mole on my ankle was changing. Significantly. In fact, I love taking baths and it was during the few minutes of privacy I would get in the bath tub that I could actually inspect this mole. At first it got bigger. Okay, I could rationalize that. Then the edges started to get wavy. Hmmm, I'm just seeing things, aren't I? Then, what seemed to be another mole, only black, started to protrude from my original mole. I knew that couldn't be good.
But, cancer?
It still seems so entirely unreal to say that word: cancer. Actually, I haven't really said it. Not about me anyway. When the doctor told me that if this has spread, we would have to do chemo, all I could think about were my children and husband. I cannot be sick. I don't have time to be sick. Who would take care of everyone who depends on me? I was sick to my stomach for days. But life went on. After all, we were on vacation, right? We conquered Disney World in three days. Went to Cocoa Beach. Visited Will's family. Ate, shopped and made merry. All the while, I still seemed to be floating in a dream. But I had to go on. Life doesn't wait and children certainly don't.
We didn't tell the children until after we arrived home. I did not want to burden them with this news. I have lived to make their lives as burden-free as possible. But, I also believed it was their right to know. Will told them. Our living room has never been as silent. I was instantly brought back to my dining room table when I was 11 and my dad was telling us that my mom had cancer. I automatically remembered details about that day and prayed to God this wasn't scarring my children. I know they are strong. That's how I'm raising them to be, right?
I don't blog often of my faith specifically, but here's what I absolutely know to be fact: God Almighty moves through the power of prayer. When people go before his throne and petition Him, He listens. And when you know Him personally, He provides hope that is not of this world. For this, I am thankful.
The cancer has been cut out of my ankle. Instead of a changing, ugly mole, I'll have a 6-inch scar that declares I'm a survivor. I'm still waiting to hear if it has spread. I have an uncanny peace that it hasn't. What I'm amazed by, truly amazed by, is how many incredible people have stepped forward and provided help and love and support. I'm the worst ever at asking for help, but people have stepped up in droves saying they are with me and they've showed it. I have texts, e-mails, cards and flowers proving how amazing all of my friends are. One of my best friends came over yesterday and said she was talking to someone about me and she told that person, "If you don't just go over and do it, Becky will never ask for help." I laughed because she knows me so well, but I was truly happy because so many people have done just that: helped me in my time of need.
I'm always trying to become a better woman no matter what curve balls life throws me, but what I've realized through this is that I have become a better woman because of the people around me. I am beyond blessed to have a whole network of people, family and friends, who genuinely care for me. Now that is something cancer can never take from me. Melanoma did not know that I have an army of people backing me. I like to believe it will step down and take notice because of all the love.
