This week marks the year anniversary of my being diagnosed with breast cancer. After my biopsy, I had to wait about 10 days for my results. In encouragement, my friends and family kept telling me I didn’t know anything until the doctor called – but I knew they were wrong. I can’t explain how sometimes we just seem to know things, but I knew.
The day before my birthday, (Dec. 14th) I was trying to stop thinking about when I would get the call,….. When I did finally get the call. As I stared at the phone ringing for the second time, I just stood there. With my heart hammering double time, I finally picked up the receiver. I didn’t want to hear it - and until I actually heard my doctor’s voice, saying those words to me - there was still a shred of hope. But none of that really mattered,… because I already knew. As my doctor went on about the biopsy, nothing clicked and fully registered until I heard him say, “And yes, I’m sorry to tell you - that you do have Breast Cancer.” As my sweaty hand gripped the phone, my shaky breathing suddenly switched to gasps.
I don’t remember crying hysterically,…. It was just that after that moment tears were always in my eyes. If I wasn’t actually crying, the promise of tears were always hovering or hanging from my eyelashes. I noticed everything I hadn’t noticed before. Devouring my children with my eyes, I suddenly noticed their habits more. I saw how tall they were,…and just how beautiful they were. At night, I’d sneak into their rooms, climb slowly under their blankets and snuggle up close to them. I would lie for hours just holding them and smelling them. As the pillow beneath my head slowly became wetter and wetter with my tears, I would stare out their doorways and watch how the reflections of colored lights from the Christmas tree danced off the walls.
My mind was racing. How many more Christmases would I have with my kids,…. with my husband? Would they know how much I loved them if I died? Who would fix everything up just the way they liked? Could I really give up the sweetness of my children’s kisses and accept that I had cancer? How big was my cancer? Where exactly was it? How fast was it growing? Why didn’t I have any symptoms? Was it possible that a nurse accidentally mixed up some files and I was really okay? During the 10 days prior to Christmas, my brain was a mess. Even though I had immediately made appointments to see specialists, it was the holidays. I was forced to wait until after the New Year to see anyone.
Christmas morning, my eight year old daughter London, wanted me to open her present first. At her school they have a special store planned by the PTA. The kids bring money and pick out whatever they want as gifts for their family. To a child – this is paradise, topped off with a pink pony. Not being able to wait any longer, London eagerly placed her gift in my hands. I peeled the tape away from the bulky, uneven blob of wrapping paper. (I think she used a whole roll of tape and wrapping paper to wrap it.) Inside, I discovered a small, red embroidered box. London had taped a small note on the outside that read, “I love you mom.” - TO: Mom / From: London. I looked up at London’s face. It was glowing with love and anticipation. When I opened the box, I found a small, glass angel with a golden halo. The angel’s small, glass hands were holding a red heart.
“It’s an Angel Worry Box!” London explained with pride, opening the red box a little wider to show me a small parchment glued on the inside. “This angel will take away all your worries, Mom!” I smiled a shaky smile. So bad I wanted this simple, glass angel to take away all my worries - but I knew better. I still had cancer, and I was terrified. And as I stared at this precious gift, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t see through the wall of tears pouring from my eyes. As my emotions rose up from inside me and ran down my face, I couldn’t do anything but make small choking sounds. I pulled London into my arms. She hugged me back just as fiercely. As the tears slid down my face, I laid my head on her shoulder and sobbed. Reaching up, London gently stroked my hair.
I took that glass angel with me when I had my double mastectomy on Feb. 13. And although I lost my breasts, I received the best presents of all. I received love, comfort, support, a family who will always be there for me (no matter what,) my beautiful angel worry box and Breath. And no matter what anyone says - love and especially breath are the greatest gifts of all!
UPDATE: My Stage 1 Invasive Cancer was caught very early. So early in fact, that doctor’s are in awe of how lucky I am/was. All of the cancer was removed during my mastectomy and nothing reached my lymph nodes. I needed no Chemo and no radiation. My doctor’s tell me I definitely had an angel watching over me. I smile because I know this is true. I did have an angel watching over me,…. a small, glass angel with a golden halo and a red heart. As a matter of fact,… she watches over me still.
“The Angel in this box
Is the guardian of your heart.
Give her your worries
And your fears,
So hope and peace can start.
Keep this box nearby you,
And know how much she cares,
For when you need love and joy,
Your Angel will be there.”
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