Present vs. Past: Does Tense Matter? (#3, and the final post in my Cancer Series)

Sally Brown, Charlie Brown’s little sister, is famous for screeching, “I’ve been robbed!” She says this to Linus in the film, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” when she misses out on the Halloween goodies by waiting with him in the pumpkin patch. 

I feel a bit like her, only I didn’t miss out on the good stuff. This may sound strange to you because it does to me. I never got to say, “I have cancer.” Leading up to surgery, I struggled hard with knowing what to tell people. “I’m having surgery” didn’t seem to be weighty enough and was dismissed by those who knew the full story, as not being authentic. In my mind, it was only pre-cancerous, and I was honestly expecting it to be fine, so I didn’t want to use the “C” word. I felt that dishonored people who were going through the full process of chemo and/or radiation treatments. 

I was afraid I would come across like the little boy who cried wolf. I didn’t want to be viewed as dramatic, or untruthful, if the precancerous label turned out to be negative. I tried to downplay it for two reasons. One, so this fear wouldn’t turn into a feeling of hypocrisy when all turned out well. The second reason was a sense of duty to be strong for my friends.

When a woman uses phrases related to cancer, the automatic assumption is breast cancer. I didn’t want to tell people the specifics, but I decided talking about my uterus was easier than leaving people to their assumptions and watch their eyes dart downward. At least there wouldn’t be any staring this way.

These were all uncomfortable words for me. It took several weeks, but I finally settled on, “I’m having abdominal surgery for a precancerous stage of endometrial cancer.” This was completely true, while also still playing it down. I think I got to the point where I included full hysterectomy in my word choice. 

Back to Sally. The irony was not lost on me that I played her in a primary school play, even to the point of insisting my Sunday School teacher call me Sally. By the time I received the diagnosis, the tumor was out of my body. “I have cancer” never escaped my lips. Instead, I was left with, “I had cancer.” I didn’t know what to do with that. People seemed to focus on “had” while I focused on “cancer.” I will be a patient with an oncologist for three years worth of check-ups.

There was no grieving process. Two months later, I have yet to go through the stages of grief a cancer diagnosis brings. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that something was inside my body that could kill me. I now describe it as having something evil and deadly inside me, but I haven’t found the emotions yet to respond to the words. 

Guilt was another problem. I am now left with the past-tense version. I HAD cancer. Allow me to be a drama queen for a moment here. While I had been dismissive, a few people reminded me I could have died if this was left undiagnosed. There were several cards and gifts that came when I was facing surgery. I had a couple of people visit me afterwards. 

The problem was, there wasn’t a diagnosis yet, so people celebrated that I had survived surgery, they got everything, and even if it was cancer…it wasn’t likely to have spread. That’s it…celebration period over before I found out I had cancer. There was a small support circle for the first phase, but when it came to the most difficult part, I was alone with a cancer diagnosis. I didn’t have cancer now. 

This left me with nobody to call on, nobody to talk through it with, and nobody to come sit with me, put their arms around me, and cry with me. I’m not faulting anyone; I would have had the same response. We celebrated the good…and it was good. That’s why I felt guilty for not being able to rest in the joy and simply move on. I was angry as I tried to accept the news and process it and I was sad to be on my own. Yet I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset. 

It did play into a wonderful life lesson or two! 

Life Lessons I Learned:

• Sometimes I have no choice but to admit I need help.

• Random acts of kindness can mean as much or more than when it comes from friends.

• Strawberry sundaes can make me cry.

• I NEED friends, and it may surprise me who they are.

• The faith I doubted I had, showed up in spades, removing all apprehension that it wasn’t  real. I now know my faith is genuine, and my trust in God comes naturally. I didn’t know that before.

• I will never be the same person I was.

• I don’t want to be.

• I believe I’m to use my voice to help people who don’t know what to do when someone gets a diagnosis.

• The time people need meals and lots of love, is right after they get the first news. I was in shock, and we didn’t eat very well for a few days. Most people provide meals after surgery, but help is also needed early in the process. It’s a weak spot in the serving and loving mindset. You don’t know this unless you lived it. I can help change that or do that for others.

• Don’t ask people if they want something. I wanted a lot but wouldn’t ask. Instead, try saying, “I’d like to stop by today or tomorrow, is that ok?” It’s easier to say yes to an offer than to ask for someone to do something.

• I am the only one who knows what I need. I’m the only one who can take care of me the way I need. I know we’re told we should be in community, and I won’t argue that. But, some of us are islands, and it’s okay to be that for a while.

• Music can be a form of companionship and a source of hope.

• Do for myself what I would do for others.

• It’s ok to feel things.

• I MUST take time to allow every thought, fear, and feeling to come. It won’t work to stuff this in a box and store it away.

• I have a purpose and I’m not dead, so it’s time to start living.

One More Thing...
If you know anybody facing something tough, and you feel like you don't know what to do, trust your gut and do what you are thinking of. Ask yourself what you think you would need. Find someone who has gone through it and ask what they wish someone had done or said to them.

If you are the one going through something, hold on tight to any resource you can think of. Your faith, music, friends, family, pets, books, distractions, art - whatever you have to work with, embrace it. Ultimately, you are the only one who knows what you're thinking. Reach out to someone who has been through something similar. It is impossible for people to relate if they haven't been there and we can't expect them to. I didn't before, but I vow to live the rest of my life changed due to this awareness.

Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.
Lois Lynn

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It Takes Rain to Create Rainbows (#2 in the Cancer Series)

The day after my oncologist appointment, I was scheduled to house-sit for some friends for 12 days. It was helpful to them because I could care for their pet, bring in the mail, and keep the place looking occupied. It was thrilling to me because I’ve dreamed of a place to go where I can focus on writing the last few chapters of my book. I think we were all excited for me to have this opportunity. The bags were packed and ready. I was feeling numb and overwhelmed but thought this would be a great way to distract myself. 

I am convinced this was God’s gift to me. The homeowner’s trip had changed three times. Any of the previous dates would have provided a wonderful time for my writing plans. This proved to be a time of healing, growing, and discovering. I had a lot to absorb from the past few days. Now I had a serene space with a great view, and my agenda was wide open. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a rainbow splashed across the sky. I knew God was holding me close and would get me through whatever was coming. 

My 12 days of isolation to write and enjoy the serenity of lake life went nothing as planned, but completely as needed. Several people who knew showed up via text, video chats, phone calls, lunches, dinners, and visits. I think I only had one day alone. I tried to write during the daytime, from my table and chair overlooking the lake. It didn’t take long to realize I could write any place, at any time. I wouldn’t often be able to sit on a deck and enjoy a water view, so I put down the laptop and watched the geese swim by instead. I intended to write at night and into the early morning hours as a compromise. 

I expected it to be dark across the water, removing my source of distraction. I was wrong. The house lights across the lake shimmered on the rippling water and proved to be just as enjoyable as the daytime view. However, the depth of calm was like a warm, weighted blanket draped over me, and I found I was able to sit in complete bliss and stare out at the night until the wee hours of the morning. As I sat there, I often recalled Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.” I could sense God’s presence and comfort while I rested and slowly let go of the control I thought I had. Gorgeous sunsets danced before me almost every evening and Christian music played in the background most of the time to easily keep their pet relaxed. It was slowly restoring my soul. This was God’s place, and I was welcomed in to be loved by Him. 

The next few weeks went by in a blur of activity. I had several virtual appointments, some pre-op visits, and a blood draw. I had 18 new questions for my doctor. Surgery was scheduled for April 15^th, Good Friday. 

I find music to be powerful, so I created a Spotify playlist to provide encouragement, fun, and sometimes just a distraction. We planned time off for my husband, I made a list of things to do, we stocked up on groceries and medications, and we cooked meals to put in the freezer. My goal was to be self-sufficient and not need anybody’s help. God had another idea.

On a Monday in March, I sent a barrage of memes to a friend. It was cathartic for me, and a lazy way to share my innermost thoughts. There was definitely a theme, including things like how much I wanted to talk about it, but kept quiet instead, how I pretended to be okay to avoid having to explain, and how I knew if I tried to talk, I would cry. The responses I got back were all reminders about resiliency. I replied with a banana dying in bed making the bedside visitors promise to donate its body to banana bread. I was in a wallowing place of fear but I wasn’t going to be allowed to stay there. 

The next day God changed my approach to things. I was having a rather emotional day and treated myself to the comfort food at Chick-Fil-A. I was texting with the same friend and got my words twisted around so they conveyed incorrect thoughts. As I tried to clarify them, I responded with, “This is why I don’t call myself a writer. Not always great with words.” Then a beep on my phone with the new message, “You are a writer. Start today identifying as one.” Tears are now streaming down my face with no hope of controlling them or disguising them. They were a result of kind words from a friend, not about the health scare, and it felt good. 

About two minutes later, Sylvanna, an employee stopped by my table with a free strawberry sundae. I burst into tears. She saw the tears and asked if I was okay. Instead of my usual insistence that all is well even when it isn’t, I told her I had been diagnosed with a precancerous stage of endometrial cancer and was having surgery next month, but the tears were because of some kind words someone just sent me while I was down…and the ice cream. She asked if she could pray for me and hug me. More tears came, of course! It took the kindness of a stranger coupled with the encouragement from a friend to get me to start accepting care and support. 

One week later, I was skipping my church leadership class and driving home from visiting a friend in Seattle. It was only the second time I’d shared some of my deeper fears and the first time I’d listened to my playlist. It proved to be the perfect therapy for six hours on the interstate. At the last minute, I decided to drop by the church building and share what was going on. I caught them just before they were heading out the door and was able to share with one of my pastors and his wife, two other staff pastors, peers, and my class mentor. It was humbling to ask for prayer, but I felt like I was growing in my spiritual development by doing so. I was a little less alone now. 

I started answering people's inquiries with, “oh, surgery isn’t until mid-April,” hoping people would forget. God uses the most interesting connections to reach us sometimes. Social media has me connected with people from all seasons of my life. Two of them, unknowingly spoke into me surrendering my unspoken craving for support into God’s capable hands. I struggle here because I want to describe who they are by the role they played in my life, but I don’t want to identify them without their permission. I had two people who were adults when I was in junior high both share major prayer requests with me. Both were completely out of the blue and that convinces me it was God’s timing and plan, and a reminder to invite people to pray. I was encouraged by a family member along the same lines, to have everybody praying for me that would be willing to. 

Prayer is something I love to do for others but seldom ask for on behalf of myself. I know God’s heard me, and question if He needs to hear from more people on the same topic. I’m not going to get into doctrine here, but I was convicted to invite people in at this point. That’s when the floodgates opened. Cards started to arrive, and a couple of gifts were dropped off. I received several messages letting me know people were praying for me. A church I do not attend, but I am connected to through a small group, did one of the most amazing grand gestures of help I’ve ever received. These sweet gentlemen installed handrails so I could get in and out of the house safely. I felt loved and allowed myself to feel it. 

Surgery day arrived. So many lessons were learned and questions about my faith were answered along the way. I had no fear as I went into surgery. In fact, I was having fun trying to make people smile and feel appreciated and seen. Complete peace surrounded me, and it was precious. After waiting for seven weeks, I was ready for this step and to move on to the unknown next phase.

Recovery was a breeze, and I experienced no pain. I knew it would be two weeks before the full pathology report and a follow-up visit with my doctor, so I sat back to wait. 

That night the preliminary report came in confirming a positive result for endometrial cancer. I still had to wait to discuss it with my doctor. Because I wanted to be sure I understood the report, it would be a while before I could share the update. For two weeks, I was a cancer patient, without cancer, and nobody knew. I didn’t know how to process this and was alone with this information and a lot of questions. 

Next time I’ll share the conclusion and what’s happened since then as well as some wonderful insights I had along the way. So many of you have asked, I hope sharing this piece of my life has encouraged you and/or has answered your questions.

One More Thing...
I will be sharing a song each day on my Facebook page that is part of this story as well. You can find me at facebook.com/LoisFloresWrites

Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.
Lois Lynn

NOTE: If you are the first person to comment, you must click on "No Comments"

That First Moment (#1 in the Cancer Series)

On Monday, February 28, 2022, my phone beeped with the notification of a new e-mail message that would forever change my life. I had just left the house to run an errand when I heard the Roadrunner “Beep! Beep!” I assigned to that alert. I quickly pulled into the first parking lot I found, only four blocks from home. It was 4:08 pm. I held my breath and dug out my phone to see if this was the message I had been waiting three days for. It was. In between my shallow breaths, my trembling hands logged into my medical account and opened the test results file.

Atypical complex hyperplasia with focal features suggestive of endometrial carcinoma.

 
I immediately made a phone call to my LMT and friend, Tim, one of the few people who knew I’d had the test. I also thought he might have a better understanding of medical terminology since he worked in the healthcare field. I think what I really wanted was for him to tell me I was wrong when I thought this was bad news. He didn’t answer. Alone with this information, I had a choice to make. Let fear sweep over me or take things one step at a time. My eyes darted back and forth between the word carcinoma, scaring myself, and the phrase suggestive of, which told me it might not be bad news.
 
After updating my family, I turned to my small inner core of friends and sent out an e-mail asking for prayer support. I had planned to go through this alone, but it was clear in less than four hours that I needed a few good friends to walk with me.
 
When the phone rang early Tuesday morning, I discovered I now had an oncologist, Dr. D. I wasn’t prepared to hear that word and it knocked the wind out of me for several hours. Their office had a note to get me scheduled immediately, and the head of the department was going to be my doctor. This is when fear first entered, and with a vengeance. In television shows and movies, you don’t get in that quickly to a specialist, much less with the head guy, unless it’s bad. This was all I could think of as I sat through my leadership class at church that night, hearing nothing that was being spoken.
 
To prepare for my appointment, I made a list of questions. At first, I had 13, but Tim joked about maybe adding one more…just in case. It was nice to laugh. Neither of us is superstitious, but it did feel better when I ended up with 17 instead.
 
I was surprised when a few people said they wanted to go with me. They weren’t available but believed I needed someone there. My husband, Tracy, was on the list but we thought it would be better to have someone not quite as close to it as him. Besides, we both knew he wasn’t going to be the best choice for calm and level-headed since he was worried already.
 
Tina and Carmen were two of the friends who offered to go with me and were going to move mountains to make sure I wasn’t alone. I know they wanted to provide comfort and distractions if I needed them. Most of all, they wanted to make sure I asked questions, and they could help me clarify and retain the information I would receive. I told both I had my list of questions, would record the doctor, and was fine on my own. Neither would accept that. I then tried telling each of them I was talking to the other one, hoping they would both think I had it covered, which would have let me go alone without them knowing. They were too smart for that. While I was in my class at church, my phone was busy receiving messages. My favorite series was from Tina when she sent me these:
 
“No one would recommend you do this alone. No one.”
 
“Please let me come.”
 
“If you decided to defend yourself in a murder trial, I would also try to talk you out of it.”
 
I’m not sure what to think when my friends use a murder accusation as a reference for possible future events. I’m pretty sure it was just an illustration of what she perceived as a crazy notion. Carmen had bypassed text and gone straight to a phone call. I missed it, but her voicemail was precious.
 
“Hello there my dear friend. Now is not the time to be all independent and all that. You have two friends willing to be there at a time when you need somebody. Be ready for someone to be there with you.”
 
They had been talking to each other and formed a plan. After I finally succumbed to Tina and Carmen's insistence, I got this message from Tina:
 

“Honestly, I had planned to just go, and then text you to say I was already there so you might as well tell me what building/room.” 

At least she brought snacks!

Dr. D was phenomenal as he explained the initial biopsy could not confirm the exact status of the cells growing inside me. One certainty was that they would become cancer if they were not already and that they were growing wildly. He told me the treatment was going to be surgical, a full hysterectomy including an open-ended description that would allow them to take care of anything else they might find during the procedure. The hope was that it would remain precancerous after the full pathological workup, with no further treatments necessary. They would call the next week to schedule the surgery. We wouldn't know what we were dealing with until a week after that.

 
“Suggestive of” were the words I clung to for seven weeks while I waited for surgery and the pathology report. Those two words would become a source of hope. I understood the last two words in the report, endometrial carcinoma, and I didn’t like them. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore them and rest in the hope.

One More Thing...

I knew I was going to be blogging about this journey someday, but June is National Cancer Survivor's Month so you can look for more pieces of this story throughout the month.

I will be sharing a song each day on my Facebook page that is part of this story as well. You can find me at facebook.com/LoisFloresWrites

Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.

Lois Lynn

NOTE: If you are the first person to comment, you must click on "No Comments"