With Crisis comes clarity.
I've gone back in forth in my mind a million times as to whether or not I should even write what I'm getting ready to write.
When I think really hard about it, the truth is, I need to write it. I need the essence of who I am to be preserved somewhere. How I came to the decisions that I did, where my mind was at, where my heart was at in it. I need something that my children can look back on and try to understand me, or at least the essence of me.
This tale begins about a month ago.
I found a lump in my left breast while I was in the shower.
I always do my breast exams in the shower.
I'm pretty faithful about it too.
About once a month or so, I check around and make sure I don't feel anything weird.
That isn't easily done, you see, I have lumpy breasts, so I really don't know what I'm looking for.
Lumpy breasts run in my family.
This one particular day, about a month ago, I felt something that felt weird to me, but I was unsure about it. I ask Sean if he will feel my breasts (HA HA!) and tell me if one feels like the other. Sean said that he felt that they were anatomically the same, so I pushed the thought to the side and carried on.
Another month goes by and I realize, weird bump in my left breast now feels huge and like a rock. I don't even have to press down to feel it. Running my finger along the outer side of my breast reveals the rock like lump. When I lift my arms above my head, in the mirror I can see that my left breast even appears different from my right breast. Where the lump is at, the skin is wrinkled looking.
I call my doctor and get an appointment for the following week.
My doctor agrees that I have a lump and should go for a mammogram.
My mammogram was scheduled for the following Thursday.
During the mammogram, there were a lot of pictures taken. The lump hurt a bit when it was pressed upon so hardly. The nurse tells me that the doctor is going to want an ultrasound.
I sit in this tiny waiting area until its my turn to go into the ultrasound room.
I spend a lot of time in the ultrasound room. Like two hours. There is no one else left in the clinic. The technician is furiously typing away on the screen. I keep looking at the screen, and I see things, but they look like nothing to me.
The radiologist comes in. Her face is serious and forlorn. She looks me straight in the eye and says, I don't know any other way to say this than I am very concerned. I need you to come back tomorrow morning for a needlepoint biopsy and an MRI. Right now you need to go to the lab, I've put some orders in and marked them urgent. She proceeds to tell me that in these situations, we have to move lightening fast.
She hasn't told me that I have cancer, but the looks on all their faces are screaming it.
I begin to cry.
How do you prepare for news such as that?
I wasn't expecting it. I don't know why. I could tell throughout my mammogram process that things were not moving as smoothly for me as they were for everyone else.
I leave the doctors office and head to the lab.
I was still in shock.
The lady at the lab asked me if I was OK and I burst into tears. It would be over an hour before I could compose myself.
The biopsy has come and gone.
The Radiologist (Dr Willis) told me that the MRI has confirmed that my mass is indeed suspicious and concerning. She was unable to biopsy any of my lymphs under my arm because of how high they were and she was worried of puncturing my chest wall and collapsing my left lung. She said my lymphs will need to be biopsied later.
I saw the tissues in the cup; little tiny pieces of me; most of them floating at the bottom. Dr Willis told me that normal, healthy breast tissue floats. The piece that was floating, she snagged on accident when trying to puncture the mass.
Dr Willis informs me that because of the sheer size of my mass, I will need a mastectomy regardless of whether the lump is benign. She also tells me the surgeon won't touch me until pathology comes back.
Now we wait.
I asked Dr Willis to please prescribe me a sleep aid. I hadn't been sleeping well prior to all this news, but I knew the waiting for the results would be horrible for me. I'm so glad I did that. She gave me Ambien and I've been sleeping very well.
This is Tuesday now, 5 days after Dr Willis dropped the bomb on me. For the most part, I'm feeling fine. I have waves of emotion come over me. Like if I sit and think too long about what it all might mean. The thing that is great about an opportunity such as this is that it brings clarity.
Now this is where we get to the nitty gritty of Cherish Jordan. Probably not a lot of people would be interested in this part of it all, but the people who would be interested, this will mean a lot to them (at least I think so).
When you concentrate all the things in the world down, I've come to realize three very important things.
1. I do not want to die in Georgia.
I don't say that lightly. My heart has never been here.
2. I HAVE to finish college.
I've come too far to let anything get in the way. I honestly have no idea how practical this is, but I will fight for it.
3. I need my family. Sean. Autumn. Emelia.
I haven't told the girls yet. They know something is going on. Once pathology comes back and I have something to tell them, I will share this journey with them and it wouldn't be right to keep them from it. This is a walk we will take together.
That's all I have for now.
Cherish Hope.
When I think really hard about it, the truth is, I need to write it. I need the essence of who I am to be preserved somewhere. How I came to the decisions that I did, where my mind was at, where my heart was at in it. I need something that my children can look back on and try to understand me, or at least the essence of me.
This tale begins about a month ago.
I found a lump in my left breast while I was in the shower.
I always do my breast exams in the shower.
I'm pretty faithful about it too.
About once a month or so, I check around and make sure I don't feel anything weird.
That isn't easily done, you see, I have lumpy breasts, so I really don't know what I'm looking for.
Lumpy breasts run in my family.
This one particular day, about a month ago, I felt something that felt weird to me, but I was unsure about it. I ask Sean if he will feel my breasts (HA HA!) and tell me if one feels like the other. Sean said that he felt that they were anatomically the same, so I pushed the thought to the side and carried on.
Another month goes by and I realize, weird bump in my left breast now feels huge and like a rock. I don't even have to press down to feel it. Running my finger along the outer side of my breast reveals the rock like lump. When I lift my arms above my head, in the mirror I can see that my left breast even appears different from my right breast. Where the lump is at, the skin is wrinkled looking.
I call my doctor and get an appointment for the following week.
My doctor agrees that I have a lump and should go for a mammogram.
My mammogram was scheduled for the following Thursday.
During the mammogram, there were a lot of pictures taken. The lump hurt a bit when it was pressed upon so hardly. The nurse tells me that the doctor is going to want an ultrasound.
I sit in this tiny waiting area until its my turn to go into the ultrasound room.
I spend a lot of time in the ultrasound room. Like two hours. There is no one else left in the clinic. The technician is furiously typing away on the screen. I keep looking at the screen, and I see things, but they look like nothing to me.
The radiologist comes in. Her face is serious and forlorn. She looks me straight in the eye and says, I don't know any other way to say this than I am very concerned. I need you to come back tomorrow morning for a needlepoint biopsy and an MRI. Right now you need to go to the lab, I've put some orders in and marked them urgent. She proceeds to tell me that in these situations, we have to move lightening fast.
She hasn't told me that I have cancer, but the looks on all their faces are screaming it.
I begin to cry.
How do you prepare for news such as that?
I wasn't expecting it. I don't know why. I could tell throughout my mammogram process that things were not moving as smoothly for me as they were for everyone else.
I leave the doctors office and head to the lab.
I was still in shock.
The lady at the lab asked me if I was OK and I burst into tears. It would be over an hour before I could compose myself.
The biopsy has come and gone.
The Radiologist (Dr Willis) told me that the MRI has confirmed that my mass is indeed suspicious and concerning. She was unable to biopsy any of my lymphs under my arm because of how high they were and she was worried of puncturing my chest wall and collapsing my left lung. She said my lymphs will need to be biopsied later.
I saw the tissues in the cup; little tiny pieces of me; most of them floating at the bottom. Dr Willis told me that normal, healthy breast tissue floats. The piece that was floating, she snagged on accident when trying to puncture the mass.
Dr Willis informs me that because of the sheer size of my mass, I will need a mastectomy regardless of whether the lump is benign. She also tells me the surgeon won't touch me until pathology comes back.
Now we wait.
I asked Dr Willis to please prescribe me a sleep aid. I hadn't been sleeping well prior to all this news, but I knew the waiting for the results would be horrible for me. I'm so glad I did that. She gave me Ambien and I've been sleeping very well.
This is Tuesday now, 5 days after Dr Willis dropped the bomb on me. For the most part, I'm feeling fine. I have waves of emotion come over me. Like if I sit and think too long about what it all might mean. The thing that is great about an opportunity such as this is that it brings clarity.
Now this is where we get to the nitty gritty of Cherish Jordan. Probably not a lot of people would be interested in this part of it all, but the people who would be interested, this will mean a lot to them (at least I think so).
When you concentrate all the things in the world down, I've come to realize three very important things.
1. I do not want to die in Georgia.
I don't say that lightly. My heart has never been here.
2. I HAVE to finish college.
I've come too far to let anything get in the way. I honestly have no idea how practical this is, but I will fight for it.
3. I need my family. Sean. Autumn. Emelia.
I haven't told the girls yet. They know something is going on. Once pathology comes back and I have something to tell them, I will share this journey with them and it wouldn't be right to keep them from it. This is a walk we will take together.
That's all I have for now.
Cherish Hope.
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