While Sally and I talk frequently of the blog we’d like to write, I never imagined this was the kind of blog I’d be starting this fall. What started as a cyst, which the surgeon assured me was nothing, quickly turned into a diagnosis of invasive breast cancer. In just over a week since that day, I’ve met with countless doctors and have undergone a battery of tests, yet more appointments and tests await. Still, the information gained from the first biopsy was enough for the surgeon to assure me that chemo was a necessity and surgery would follow. Whether or not radiation will be required will be determined by the surgical findings. I’ll meet with an oncologist on Friday and will hopefully know more about the specific course of chemo and the timeline for all my treatments.
The kids took the news harder than I’d hoped, but seem to be doing better every day. Emma Clare has become very attentive, asking how my appointments for the day have gone and wanting to know what’s coming up and when. If I even begin to look as though I’m in pain or upset, she is quick to see that I’m ok. Turner will just come and cuddle and if I ask what’s wrong, he’ll say, “You know, the cancer.”
I can’t say it quite enough. There has been such a generous outpouring of support. I’ve said it many times in the last week, and I know it’s true. I am not at all worried that we will have a need that remains unmet. We will be well taken care of. For that, and for constant prayers, I remain ever thankful.