The Dreaded Diagnosis

Well, it seems that I have been drafted into a club of sorts. No, not a professional sports team type of club, but a club consisting of women who have or had breast cancer. As I've made clear to them - I didn't want to be part of your stupid club!

This recent diagnosis has sent me into somewhat of a tailspin. Many days, I don't know which way is up. I'm having great difficulty concentrating and keeping track of things. Christmas Eve really snuck up on me, and that's really not good when your life's work is congregational ministry and the Christmas Eve service is the most highly attended service of the year.

Given that I'm a woman in ordained ministry who constantly struggles with the inner urge to be better than the male clergy (no offence to my male colleagues; it's my issue), and throw in a heavy dose of the busiest time of the year and you already have a tasty recipe for ... exhaustion.

It was a complete surprise to me. A routine visit to my family doctor to check out a couple of innocuous cysts resulted in an assessment of "they really look like sebaceous cysts, but we'll get a diagnostic mammogram just to make sure." No big deal, routine procedure.

One week later I get a call saying that there was a cancellation for the next day and would I like to come in. I stammered a little, but agreed. So the next morning, my partner and I, moseyed up to the local hospital for what was probably going to be a bit of a painful process (think kneading a loaf of bread and squishing it really flat), but not a long one. How can one be so naive and yet so middle aged?

The mammogram turned into a more focused mammogram. That in turn translated into an ultrasound. And then a visit from a very kind, compassionate radiologist. Ah, my first clue that all was not well! The cysts were not a problem, but they had discovered a suspicious spot or tumour that she thought should be biopsied - TODAY, NOW!

I swear I could almost feel the earth tilt on its axis. Nothing would ever be the same again. Eight days later the results were in: Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Since then I have been living in a fog (I think that's an old Wonderful Grand Band song).

I'll post more later and as I navigate the white water rapids and sometimes deceptively calm streams of my journey through breast cancer. Oh, and did I mention sleep is all over the place - that's why I'm writing this at my computer at 5:20am.

Blessings people,
Rev Deb