Waiting for the war to begin

     This is a picture I took out of our bedroom window some months ago. I remember telling Joy and posting it on FaceBook that storm clouds were headed our way. The colors and light were breathtaking. I couldn't keep my eyes off it.

    I said this blog would be honest and even raw at times.  Today is a difficult day. I'm struggling with the balance between creating a place where friends and family can get information and a place where I can be real about our journey. I don't want this entire blog to be about cancer. I want parts of it to be funny and light but I can't sugarcoat how I feel this morning. Joy and I got some tough news a couple of days ago about the biopsy last week. What the doctors felt was a shadow under the tumor was actually another mass. The stunning part is that it is twice the size of the original tumor. Joy called the doctor twice to confirm what she'd said because we were sure she had misunderstood. No mistakes. She really said this one was 4cm. They aren't sure if it is attached to the back of the original tumor or a separate mass. It was apparently hard to see because most of it protrudes behind the first tumor toward the chest wall. We are praying that it hasn't affected the chest wall behind the breast. The size alone automatically makes this a Stage III cancer. That is a game changer. Joy has endured 5 or 6 mammograms, the same number of sonograms, at least 2 MRI scans, and 3 biopsies in the last month. The big question we struggle with is how is it possible that a second tumor so large wasn't detected? There are no answers available.

     Out breast surgeon (the quarterback of our treatment team) is out of the area until next week so we won't have any official answers until our appointment next Tuesday. I doubt the radiological oncologist can give us any answers when he tries to drain the blood trapped in her breast from nicking a vein during the last biopsy. She is having that done tomorrow. So, we have no long term answers but we know this war has escalated and our options for treatment are quickly diminishing. We were considering a lumpectomy with radiation and minimal healing time. That option is off the table and we now realize that chemo has gone from a slight chance to a very high likelihood. We still have decisions to make on whether it will be a single mastectomy or if both breasts will be taken.  The only thing we know is that we want this cancer removed as fast as possible.  

     For our friends and family, please understand that I'm putting this out there so you can have answers to your questions without the awkwardness of asking us directly. We want your prayers and support and I promise to do what I can to keep you up to date. The reason I say all that is to let you know that answering the same question dozens of times is exhausting emotionally. More so for Joy than for me. I process differently and need to verbalize my thoughts, hopes, and fears. That isn't the case for Joy. She has been very stoic and outwardly calm during this journey. As such, it's much harder for her to talk openly other than general details. Please respect that. If you need or want an answer, please ask me and I'll do what I can to provide an answer. I feel like that is my primary role during this war. I'm going to protect her as much as possible.  The outpouring of love and support Joy has received so far has been overwhelming. From the family, our BT community, friends, and her co-workers at the bank, we are grateful for all you've done and said. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

    I have one last request. I'm learning the hard way that the Internet isn't always a good place. Like many of you, I searched the Internet for advice, explanations, and to get a better understanding of what we are facing. Big mistake. Don't do it. All it did was terrify me and Joy. When you begin looking at survivability rates based on the stage and grade of cancer, you are borrowing trouble and worry.  Just about a week or two before we discovered the cancer, I read a devotional in "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young and it has had a profound effect on my mindset throughout this process. It said something to the effect that one of God's greatest gifts to us was that he never gives us more than one day at a time because He understands that we wouldn't have the courage to go on if we knew everything that we would face in the future. I've thought of that countless times since then and thanked God that I don't know everything. I have to trust Him and the doctors to get Joy through this treatment. Countless others have gone down this road before and so will we. We think we know how this will end but we have no guarantees. I know this post is a little heavy and I'm sorry. It's exactly where I am this morning. I remain confident that Joy will survive and that our lives will return (maybe even better) in a year or so. My heaviness has to do with the knowledge of what Joy will have to endure, both physically and emotionally. Now, back to the business of this day and making sure I live it intentionally.  That means not obsessing about the gathering storm clouds outside my window and trusting that storms are a part of any long journey.