“You have cancer,” I sat there in a paper thin hospital-green gown, staring at the doctor.
“What do I do now?” I came in because they said they saw something suspicious on my mammogram.
“Unfortunately this is a very aggressive cancer and it can only be cured through chemotherapy and surgery,” she was slightly nervous. Then she continued, “This cancer is a killer and we caught it early. You are in good hands. My assistant will go over all of the information with you. Just get dressed and she will meet you in the office across the hall,” with that she washed her hands and dismissed me.
I was signed up for chemo therapy, every third week for one year. Then I drove home as if I were observing myself from afar. There was an element of shock and disbelief, and I am certain that my chin hung on my chest. The first person I called was my husband. The second person was my prayer team, comprised of an army of believers.
The journey that I never wanted to go on was commencing and it was during this time that I learned that a battle was raging, not in my body, but in my mind………