“What?” not “Why?”

Last week, I was traveling for work to New York City.  It has been one of my rules after my divorce to try and do something fun on my work trips and this visit was no exception.

If you are a hopeless romantic you have undoubtedly seen the movie An Affair to Remember or it’s 90s remake, Love Affair to which the movie Sleepless In Seattle owes a debt of gratitude for the idea of the two unlikely lovers meeting in the end at the top of the the Empire State Building.  I am one of those sappy people.  Since watching Annette Bening and Warren Beatty fall in love on a cruise ship and agree to meet in six months after dumping their respective partners, visiting the Empire State Building has been one of my bucket list items.  I don’t know what I imagined would happen when I got there, but I can say with confidence, it was not finding out I had cancer.

I had been waiting on a phone call with my biopsy results for seven days and was doing my best to put it out of my mind.  So, when we got to 20 W. 34th Street, I was focused on the task at hand.  My good friend and coworker, Trinity and I bought our tickets for the 86th floor and entered the interactive museum.  It was in the museum where I realized I had a missed that very important call.  

I don’t know how to describe the pain and fear and anxiety of having to call someone back and waiting for potentially bad news—except to say if you’ve been there—you get it. It felt like a 500 pound weight on my chest.  I returned the call and was told the doctor would call me back.  This, while I entered the elevator like a zombie, following Trinity without any anticipation of the bucket-list item I was about to mark off my list.  When we got to the 80th floor viewing area, I was still waiting.  I took a picture of where the Twin Towers used to stand, The Statue of Liberty in the distance behind it on the most beautiful day one could imagine in New York City, and I simply could not find a way to be present.  I followed once again, to the next bank of elevators and got to the famous floor where Jonah in Sleepless in Seattle is met by a worried sick father (Josh) and the woman (Annie) who would soon be his mother—like a robot.  I was there, but I wasn’t.  All attempts at mindfulness alluding me and zero bars on my phone reception. Instead of soaking in the experience, all I wanted was to be on solid ground again.

When we got to the bottom, we stepped once again onto the sidewalk on W. 34th St. hoping for a different kind of miracle when the call came.  I don’t remember what she said until I heard the word, “Unfortunately.”  

“Unfortunately, this is not the news I had hoped to share with you today.  Your biopsy showed evidence of Ductal Carcinoma in Situ.  While this is considered Stage 0, we do treat it more like a traditional cancer.  Your next steps will be scheduling a lumpectomy and then likely a short round of preventative radiation.  We will get you scheduled with the surgical oncologist, radiologist and plastic surgeon as soon as possible.  Do you have any questions for me?”

“Can I scream, ‘Fuck this shit!’ in the middle of New York City without inducing panic?” I thought to myself, knowing full well the answer to that was, “Um, this is New York City lady.” Instead, I opted for tears and a sheepish whisper of “It’s cancer” to Trinity who ran inside to bring me napkins to dry my eyes.

I hung up and asked Trinity if she would navigate us to John’s Pizzeria, an old church converted to a restaurant near the Broadway theaters where we planned to eat before seeing the show, The Cottage starring Eric McCormack and directed by Jason Alexander.  It’s not been a week and I couldn’t tell you how we got there, but I can tell you I had the very best navigator a girl could ask for and I’d follow that woman into a firestorm if I had to.  Plus, she was taking me to pizza and wine to eat and drink my feelings away for the evening.  

Sometimes a girl’s gotta do, what a girl’s gotta do.

~~~~~~~~~

Since getting my diagnosis last week, I have spent significant time in pretty much every corner of the emotional map.  Fear, sadness, anger, frustration and even self-pity.  I have also had moments of clarity where I resolved to not take any of this life for granted.  On Sunday, my family did the adventure courses at ZipZone and as I watched my daughter step out in faith on an obstacle that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to try, I thanked God with tears in my eyes and pled with Him.  “I’m not ready to not be here for this.”

Along with the painful emotions, much of the last week has been spent in gratitude.  In my last blog post, I asked the question of how I would still be able to praise God if the news I received was that I had cancer.  Like a good Father, He has answered that challenge and the reasons to be thankful have been loud and clear.  Ductal Carcinoma in Situ or DCIS is a non-invasive cancer that can generally be removed with a lumpectomy if caught early, never to return again.  I’m not “sick.”  I don’t feel any differently physically then I did two weeks ago.  I have job security and a great support system of friends and family members.  The cancer itself is contained and less than the size of my fingertip.  As a non-invasive cancer, it most likely hasn’t spread and won’t.  My treatments will be brief and depending on my choices (because NEWSFLASH we actually do have choices in our treatment plans),  I hope to avoid most of the side effects that some cancer patients cannot.  I am young.  I am determined.  I believe God will use this for good.  I’ve seen Him do that too many times to simply not BELIEVE.

After the dust settled, my brain did the thing that healthy brains do and looked for answers. My brain wanted to know “Why?”  This is a very dangerous question.  I know well enough not to Google the words “breast cancer,” but I’ve tried to use the resources at hand to get a better understanding of DCIS and what it means, treatment options, survival rates, recurrence rates and future prevention methods.  I have found myself listening to podcasts where one health expert says estrogen is to blame while another claims it’s hereditary.  I’ve learned about the important roll of estrogen in a woman’s body to protect against things like heart disease.  So as my oncologist is telling me the post-surgical approach to my breast cancer prevention is taking an estrogen blocker, I have to ask.  “Won’t I be trading one cause of death for another?”

Get caught further down the rabbit hole, and I’m reading and listening about anti-inflammatory foods, supplements, cardio vs. weight training, the dangers of alcohol, environmental estrogens, plastics, aluminum, microwave ovens, safe cleaning products and non-toxic beauty supplies.  Leading doctors are talking about causation vs. correlation and the good and honest and humble ones actually admit “we simply don’t know everything because the science is always changing”.  Throw in the fact that we are all unique, with different family histories, health journeys, underlying stressors and responsibilites and potential comorbidities and I might as well forget everything I think I’ve just learned.  Did I mention the people who want to give me unsolicited advice about their best friend’s, sister’s, mother-in-law who had the EXACT SAME THING?  Talk about feeling stressed—which (by the way) triggers the hormone cortisol that is linked to BOTH cancer and heart disease.  Well, you might as well start digging my grave because if I wasn’t dying before, I’m definitely dying now.

But that’s just it, isn’t it?  Life on this earth isn’t promised forever.  Not for me and not for you.  I can choose to get caught in the maddening web of “Why?” or, in it’s place I can ask the question “What?”  

“What is in this for me?”  

“What do I do with it?”  

“What are my next steps and the ones after that?”  

“What do I chose to take and what do I chose to leave in terms of advice and treatments?”

“What will this reveal about God’s love for me and His plan in this?”  

And most importantly, “What does LIVING look like?”

~~~~~~~~~

I can’t tell you “WHY” I have cancer.  I’m done trying to solve for that, but I can tell you “WHAT” I’m going to do with it and I can tell you “WHAT” life will look like for me going forward. 

I will be choosing a path that will be informed, fluid and grace-filled.  I will put up healthy boundaries around the amount of information I let in and the people who are allowed to give it.  I will limit the time I think about this stupid disease.  I will love with all of my heart without fear of rejection.  I will call people instead of just texting. I will honor myself by having tough conversations with people and situations that aren’t serving me.  I will question the status-quo and push back when my intuition (or the Holy Spirit) whispers that something isn’t right.  I will go to every school activity I can and miss as much work as is required to do so. I will do freaking CrossFit and push my body hard whenever I feel like it despite other’s opinions and my porcelain “robot hip.”  I will eat healthy food 80% of the time and the rest have all of the cinnamon rolls I want.  I will cry when I feel like it and snort laugh with abandon. I will get Vitamin D from sunshine and sleep 7-9 hours a night.  I will talk to my birds, butterflies, trees and plants. I will avoid debating with people who haven’t done their research and if I choose a cause to fight for, I will honor it by knowing what the hell I’m talking about. Try it people, at this point, it could probably save the world. 

Against social pressures and conformity, I will cut out alcohol, maybe for good.  Instead of pouring that drink, I will pour into myself so I can pour into others.  I will dance like no-one is watching.  I will be brutally honest when necessary.  I will stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.  I will seek out more ways to “give back” than I seek out ways to “get more.”  I will be an incredible mother and not doubt it for one second. I will buy that dress because it makes me feel pretty. I will never again allow people into my life who haven’t earned my love, time and attention. I will have that third piece of pizza. I will take my second chance at love for another human and do better than what I did the first time around.   I will forgive the people who have hurt me. I will travel and explore and take risks.  I will sit in silence more.

I will practice gratitude every single day.  I will chose faith over fear. I will spend time in quiet with God and pray without ceasing.  I will ask the question, “What would Jesus do?” and then actually do it!  And I will trust that at the very end of this, I will look back without one single regret for a life well-lived to the absolute fullest. 

And let me be clear, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

Love and light,

Ev