After you have a baby, ladies, your body just does all kinds of crazy things. For me, I had a lump in my breast–on top of the non-stop bleeding and the stretch marks. I lived in fear of this lump for over two months. I didn’t want to know. My son was barely a year old, work was good….it would be just like me to find out I had breast cancer.
I touched the lump daily. I had my husband touch it. I looked in my sweet baby’s eyes and realized I needed to get to the doctor.
Now, I was a new mom. I’d had prenatal and post natal–I was under the watchful eye of my doctor. But, I knew I had to find out what the lump was or commit myself to feeling I was dying. And so, I went in to see my doctor.
She did a full exam (including my regular Pap smear). My lump was felt, ultrasounded and thoroughly examined. That lump turned out to be nothing and I relaxed. It’s ok. I have lumpy boobs. I could live with that.
Three months later, I received a wet-dried-unsealed envelope in the mail. I grabbed my mail over my lunch break and laughed as I opened it. It looked like it had been to hell and back. It was from the clinic. I assumed It was a bill. It was not. It was the results of my Pap smear and it said I had invasive cervical cancer.
It directed me to a specialist and the date had come and gone. My cancer letter had been lost in the mail for months. I called the clinic and true to form, I raised hell. They got me in a week later.
Biopsies happened, concern, crying, fear happened. And yes, it was cancer. I not only worried I might die. I worried my son would grow up without a mom. I couldn’t do much but worry.
We drove to Mayo clinic. I prayed on the way for a sign. I just wanted a sign that I would be ok. I’d packed pictures of my baby boy and a onesie to smell. I’d been told I’d need to sign off for the doctors to save my life by whatever means possible. I’d heard how very rare it was to go from a normal pap to invasive cancer in a year. I was scared and so I prayed.
As soon as I’d given up hope for my sign, a huge shooting star flew in front of the window of our truck and landed in a field next to where we were driving. I had my sign.
I was comforted the rest of the time through surgery (which took 7 hours), and I fully believed a higher power put the lump in my breast to get me to the doctor. The letter was lost in the mail so I’d fight like hell, and I’d do the best thing and have the best care and I did.
When I tell this story–which isn’t often, I get laughed at. I’m a foolish hippy who believes in fate. It’s my “Poppy Moonbeam” story. And it happened. You have the abbreviated version.