March 9 - Two Years Ago Today

Flashback time: March 9, 2018

I showed up at the Baytown hospital and went to the Breast Center. I got checked in and changed into a fluffy robe and waited in the private waiting area. There was a girl there who I knew from my pre-Luke days of going to workout classes at the gym; she was also there for a diagnostic mammogram. We said hello, but truthfully I probably seemed a little rude because I couldn't really cope with actual conversation due to all the nerves.

It's my turn, and I go back for the mammogram. In case you didn't know, a diagnostic mammogram puts significantly more pressure on the breast than a routine screening mammogram. The harder they squeeze, the more they can see. But, it's not that painful, just more discomfort than anything, and it's over quickly.

Next up, I went to a different room and they used ultrasound to take pictures of both breasts - the lump, the area around the lump, and the other breast for comparison.

After that was done, I went to another room, more of an office with a computer where I could also see the images, to talk to the radiologist.

I will never forget the conversation that day:

Radiologist: "I'm very concerned about this. We need to bring you back in for an ultrasound-guided biopsy, blah blah blah is what to expect with that, do you have any questions?"

Me: "When you say 'very concerned,' what do you mean by that?"

Radiologist, in the most matter of fact voice you can imagine: "Oh, I'm very concerned that this is a breast cancer. So, with the biopsy.... " 

And I then tuned her out: I truly have no idea what she said after that. A bit later, a nurse was sitting down with me (in yet another room) to schedule the biopsy, and I just lost it. I remember this nurse was so kind and patient with me, and that made me cry even more.

Finally, I got myself together enough to go get dressed. I was still crying, but less hysterically and slightly more discreetly. My friend was actually in the dressing rooms, and I could barely even look at her - I sort of mumbled something about good to see you, and I left. The whole way to the car, I was still crying. I got in the car, and I lost control of myself again - the sobs just wouldn't stop.

So, I did what I do when I don't have words. I turned on some praise music. Y'all, those singers and songwriters are unbelievably gifted, and their words have brought me such comfort on so many occasions that I can't even begin to name them.

This day, I turned on YouTube to just listen because at the time I didn't have a single app or account to stream music on demand, just Pandora's random selections, and that wasn't going to cut it. I chose Zach Williams' Fear Is a Liar. I turned it up as loud as it would go, and I sang through my tears as I drove home. I was afraid, but listening to the truth in that song helped me get my head on straight. So I listened to it over and over and over again.

When I got home, both boys were happy to see me, and we were loading up to head to Buffalo for the weekend. I didn't want to talk about it in front of them, especially Jay, because he was (and still is) very perceptive. So it was more than an hour, maybe two, before I could finally tell James what they'd said. It was agonizing having to hold it in for that long, but I think it helped me to be a little calmer when I finally told him - I cried, but I wasn't hysterical like I had been at the doctor's office.

And so, that is the story of March 9. It's also the story of how a certain song can say the words that you aren't yet able to form in your prayers - whether you're too scared, or too broken, or too stuck to get them to come together in any sort of cohesive way. Music is kind of magical like that - it just speaks for you if you'll let it.

Here's the lyric video of Fear Is a Liar, by Zach Williams.