Hello, My Chickadees.
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and for me, October 2011 was a turning point in my life. That was the month I received my diagnosis of breast cancer. The day I found out will forever be etched in my mind. The doctor called to inform me of the results of my biopsy, and along with having a complete out-of-body experience, I remember thinking “What now? What do I do? Where do I go? Who do I tell? Do I tell anyone?” The thoughts consumed me. I talked to a number of survivors who came out of the woodwork when they learned of my diagnosis. I knew I was going to need all of the love, support, and prayers I could get, so I welcomed the conversations and words of encouragement.
God always has a divine setup, and He began orchestrating my healing the day after my diagnosis was revealed. The Health Ministry of my church held a health fair and one of the groups holding a workshop was the Breast Cancer Sisterhood ministry. It’s funny how you never really pay attention to things until it applies to you. Knowing the diagnosis was looming large in my life, I went to that workshop and became acquainted with a sisterhood – one that you hope you’ll never be a member of. As I grew acquainted with survivors who pledged to walk the journey with me, I discovered a new hope and determination to fight. Women came forward and shared their stories. They were women I’d seen around church, but never knew they were victims of this dreaded disease. They put business cards of their oncologists in my hand and reassured me that it was no longer an automatic death sentence when caught in time. They also assured me that they would be praying for me. The sisterhood paired me with one of their survivors who happened to be my old high school and college roommate. Cynthia, who was diagnosed some years earlier, met me for lunch and shared a host of resources and support for myself and my family.
When you get a diagnosis of cancer, it becomes a family affair. Your immediate family goes through this journey with you. I can remember the grief on my husband’s face as we learned that this was an aggressive, invasive cancer that had attacked both breasts. With his engineering mind, I watched him go to work researching treatments and consulting with doctors and friends in the medical field. Before every medical crisis in my life (and I have had several), God has anchored me in a passage of scripture. About a year before my diagnosis, I became obsessed with Psalm 139 and the fact that God goes before me, behind me, and hems me in on every side. It gave me comfort as I stood on the declaration “I will live and not die!” (Psalm 118:17).
I was prepared to fight and before I knew it, there was an army of people who had signed up to fight with me. Love, support, and prayers came from everywhere as people who learned about my diagnosis came forth to disclose their story, and the number of years they had survived the disease. With every story and every disclosure, I became more resolute in my fight and the fact that this was something that happened to me but not in me. I took the stand that “I am MORE than a conqueror through Christ who strengthens me,” Romans 8:37, as an army of love surrounded and often carried me and my family through this crisis. Friends signed up to take me to chemo, which, after a while, became weekly for a year. There were friends who had survivor friends call me and share their stories of life, hope, and recovery, which were like an emotional transfusion as chemo flipped me upside down, inside out, and back again physically.
Love and prayers carried me through the fight of my life and I have many touching and cherished memories of people’s gifts of love, support, and help that were showered upon me from friends old and new. I reflect upon how my girlfriend Janice from Milwaukee – who must have known that I would need help - came the week before my surgery and stayed for week after with my cousins, Louise and Rachel, to help me adjust to being home. My sister girlfriend and fellow survivor, Renée Cole, flew from Florida to go with me for my first chemotherapy treatment and then took me wig shopping afterwards. I am touched by her sister Inga who made it a point to gift me with a beautiful silver cross necklace, which I continue to wear all the time, to remind me of the fact that I am more than a conqueror through Christ. I think about the friends and family who came and sat with my family at the hospital for 5 hours while I was in surgery, and my pastor, Father Patrick Smith, who came to the hospital close to midnight to check on me and talk with me about what this diagnoses means for me. My heart is warmed by the memory of my son, Aaron, who came home from college to shave my head and christen me with a kiss on top when he was done; not to mention a host of friends who sacrificed time out of their days and took turns taking me to and from my chemo treatments for a year. The hallmark memory of sacrifice and love that brings tears to my eyes every time I recall it is my girlfriend Troy and her sister, Jessica, who signed up, raised money, went into training, and walked 60 miles in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Walk for a Cure in my honor. I was blessed to be able to ride to Philadelphia with Troy’s husband to watch and cheer as they crossed the finish line. The sun beamed down on my bald head, and I wept like a baby as I watched hundreds of walkers hold up one tennis shoe in honor of those currently in the fight at the end of the ceremony.
I always say cancer isn’t for wimps, but you don’t have to go through it alone. The love of friends, family, and a sisterhood of survivors will walk this journey with you while God, the ultimate healer, heals and restores you.
October has become a celebration of life for me. It is a celebration of life for all survivors, those newly diagnosed, and those who lost their battle but won the war and now have eternal life.
I honor and celebrate all of you who are too numerous to name, whose love, support, care, encouragement, prayers, and acts of kindness and sacrifice carried me and my fellow brothers and sisters from fear to faith. We hope for a cure so that you never have to be a member of the sisterhood no one wants to join.
Peace and blessings, My Chickadees,
Gail