Cancer 2.0

Today it rained.

If you have been following my story for the past 6+ years, you know that this means something to me. Often, I feel the love and presence of God in the rain. I don’t know why. I think it started almost 6 years ago to the day when I wrote a post about the rain. Today, I am writing a similar post.

6 years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and on July 6^th, 2018, it was removed with a mastectomy, followed by chemotherapy, immunotherapy, and medication.

Instead of celebrating my 6-year cancer free anniversary this week, I am scheduling appointments with a new team of doctors in Tennessee because, yet again, I have cancer.

I know. We are all mad about it.

Here are the practical details:

It is on the same side, even though I had a mastectomy. It is teensy-tiny. It is just .4 cm, with my last tumor being 1.6 cm. 

Here are the emotional details:

We are sad. This puts a wrench in our plans to grow our family. This puts a wrench in our plans to go to less doctors’ appointments this year. This feels scary.

Here is the Meredith perspective:

We have a lot to be thankful for. I had a routine MRI to check on the status of my implant and this tumor could have only been found on an MRI since it is so small. I am thankful for my new doctor who took all the right steps (and for the friend connection I have that led me to this plastic surgeon!) so that we found this tumor so quickly.

I am thankful that this time, I have Jeff and Emma by my side. I don’t have to do this alone. We also have an amazing community in Tennessee who are already taking care of us well. 

Now back to the rain.

We were sitting on the back porch and only a few drops of rain were falling. Since rain is usually how I feel God telling me He loves me, I whined a bit to God and said, “hey man, where is my rainstorm? Are you even here?” Immediately I thought of my favorite Bible story, where Elijah is in the cave, distraught and upset, asking God, “where are you!?” Many intense weather phenomena pass, but God is not in them. God, instead, is in the silence. With this response, I quieted my mind for a moment and looked around. My eyes landed on my sweet miracle daughter, with her blond curls, playing with her doll. The reassurance of God’s faithfulness was right in front of me. I didn’t need a rainstorm, I simply needed to look at my daughter, who was born despite my cancer treatment, who may be my only child, but who is absolutely perfect in every way.

And then, the sky got gray. The clouds formed. And the rain poured. It poured after weeks without rain (and where I live, it does rain a lot!). I swooped Emma up and we danced in the rain, singing her new song, “I’ve got the joy joy joy joy down in my heart!”. Despite my attitude, God gave me the rain anyways. He poured His goodness down as He reminded me, not for the first time, that He is still faithful. 

He has never abandoned me. 

He is fighting for me.