This blog usually highlights my running and homeschool pursuits. Last
week, a new challenge was presented in our adventure. I had a mole
removed that was diagnosed as malignant melanoma. EEK! The initial
removal and diagnosis, as well as the succeeding larger biopsy and continued
recovery, have happened hot and fast, like a piece of withered grass in a
campfire. It was a huge deal, but it's not as a big of a deal as it could have been. It was a vision in between blinks, but it matters to my family and me. My emotions are simmering as I process what happened. I am also in the midst of training for my first full marathon, and the juxtaposition of a health scare *versus* speed and strength have resounded my purpose (whether or not it's clear in all the details of my spectral emotions).
"...but that with FULL COURAGE now as always
CHRIST WILL BE HONORED/EXALTED/GLORIFIED
in my body, whether by life or by death."
Philippians 1:20
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| My purpose, whether a simple SAHM, a marathoner, or a person battling weakness and sickness or death. I am so thankful for the friend who read this over me. |
I finally went to a dermatologist about it last month. They didn't tell me what it was, but I could tell by their reactions that it might be something serious. On Friday, February 27, they removed it and another suspicious mole. I asked if I should worry. The nice physicians' assistant said with a concerned shrug that it was irregular. I did Google melanoma after that. And guess what? It looked *just like* my little ol' now-missing mole. But we never believe THAT could happen to US, right?
A few days later, I got a call at 7:15 a.m. that I was needed back at the doctor *that* day. It was not enough time to get there without my boys. They scheduled me for the next day and said I would be there about an hour and fifteen minutes, but they never said why directly. I asked if I should be concerned, and the receptionist asked me to hold. Thirty seconds later she told me that the records were sealed and she was only told to call me and schedule me to return. If I had it to do over again, I probably would have been pushier with information about MY body that I am pretty sure I signed a waiver to hear about over the phone. I guess they were trying to prevent panic. They succeeded. But I was very aware there was a problem.
So Thursday, March 3, I had surgery all.of.a.sudden. They kindly brought me to a room. Was it my imagination they were all looking at me in a lingering/pitying way? Probably. The kind doctor came in with her nurse and a grad student intern. She professionally informed me that the mole on my arm was malignant melanoma. She asked if I knew anything about it. "That it is big and bad and scary," I replied. She nodded and said, "Yes, it's very big and bad and scary." Then she informed me that because it can spread so quickly if even one cell remains in my arm, and then it would become "terminal" (what a surreal word in my life), that they would remove a centimeter's circumference around the initial melanoma to be sure all the cells were removed the first time. And removing that circle of skin would require a longer cut in order to sew it back together. She informed me I couldn't do any heavy-lifting or strenuous exercise for two weeks because the stitches would rip. I told her I was training for a marathon and asked if I could do my scheduled 20-mile run in the morning:
"Not unless you want to rip your stitches," she said.
"What about light running?" I asked in what I thought was a cutely persuasive plea.
"You can't get your blood going too much or you will rip your stitches." Her tone was a lot like the one I use when our 5yo asks me for the same thing I said no about ten times already.
She said she wanted to remove the skin immediately, but that I could wait if I chose. I decided getting the big bad scary cancer cells out of my body was priority. I could only see my husband and our boys in my mind's eye with God's voice in my heart. Who knows if I had years until it reached terminal proportions, but why take that chance?
So they prepped me. They cut me. They sewed me up. I gasped when I saw how big it was, even though she had drawn the guide on my skin and showed me beforehand. Twelve stitches. It took my breath away that something so huge happened to me all alone in a room in less than an hour: bad cancer, surgery, massive wound.
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| This was the wound immediately after she removed the possibly affected skin area. |
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| This is the wound this morning, day 7. I am amazed that God made our bodies to stitch themselves back together. I keep praising Him every time I change my bandage and see the progress. |
The medical professionals were all so kind. I wasn't afraid. But it was a HUGE life moment. And it was so brief and isolated (just in that hour) from people who are in my life. I still don't know quite how to communicate about it. It's a big deal but not a big deal.
When I started realizing I may have melanoma, before they called me, I had some moments of clarity. Since then, they have blurred in the pain and maintenance of the scar, despite the everyday responsibilities with two kids and a bazillion activities.
I had been asking God to discipline me because my heart is not in the right places. He is helping me remember what matters, like I requested. But I am such a slow learner sometimes.
One of the clear epiphanies (is that redundant?) I had was that I need to relax. I feel so rushed and like I am always doing the wrong thing, no matter where I am or who I am with or what I am doing. And it makes me mean and impatient and everything opposite of peaceful and giving. I want to slow down and be with my family, the mission field where I currently walk, instead of always feeling called to the millions of "mission fields" and "guilt trips" I feel manipulated into engaging in groups and on media. This is my responsibility to handle. Slowly but surely, my heart is slowing down, stilling itself in the presence of God and His pleasure with my family and where we are. I am always so concerned with where we're supposed to be going that I miss where.we.are. We can't get to the top floor without traveling all the ones in between.
My sisters in Christ amazed me and softened my heart for molding. I texted several family/friends to ask for prayers, and the kind words and support warmed me. Three of them, including my amazing little sister, even came over after our kids were in bed that night to pray over me. My mom had a fever, but she insisted on FaceTiming with us so she could be part of it. I am her baby. We did as much laughing as praying, and I felt so loved. It was such a rich blessing. Our small group was so supportive and prayerful, as was my mother's. My sweet mom couldn't offer to serve me enough. She blessed our family so much over the past few days by being my left arm and helping during appointments. And my amazing little sister really got how this affected my heart. She even drew a black melanoma awareness ribbon on her foot for her first 5K this past weekend in my honor. My in-laws reassured me with peacefulness and presence. My husband worried about me in his sensitive and servant-hearted way. He is out-of-state all this week on business, and he hated having to be away at this time way more than I did. God reminded me that I do, in fact, need people.
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| My mom got me these beautiful potted miniature roses. If I can keep them alive, then I look forward to their progress reminding me of the growing love of Christ that all these wonderful people shared with me through this fast experience. |
I found out two days ago that I do not have any more melanoma. Praise the LORD! I will return every three months for a year to be examined, and then every six months, and eventually just once a year, assuming it stays away.
I texted my husband who was in the air (I look SO forward to celebrating with him when he returns on FRIDAY!!!)--and I texted all my prayer warriors. I could hear the laughter and clapping and rejoicing. How wonderful to have relationships based on eternal hopes. I praise(d) Him either way because I know He is guiding me, above and through my circumstances with nearness. I go back on St. Patty's Day (the two-week mark) for removal of stitches. I will come home and PICK UP MY BOYS with BOTH arms and squeeze them tightly, and then I hope to enjoy a long marathon training run afterward, especially since the next day is my 31st birthday--which will mean even more to me this year than ever before.
Not being able to run for two weeks in the midst of the most important part of my full marathon-training is a huge mental and heart challenge. Where am I placing my identity? Where does my hope lie? Is it temporary or eternal? Who/what do I worship as my Sustainer? I have been pleading with God to allow me to keep running, but for Him to teach me to be present in all circumstances. I can't always be in my mind gym. I have some pretty great souls to love in our four walls and along our blessedly and graciously joined path.
I absolutely still plan to run the full-marathon on April 9. A friend and her coach are giving me feedback, and research says I should not lose too much cardio and strength with two down weeks at this point in my fitness. It may not be as fast as I'd like (3:30), and I may not qualify for Boston in my first attempt (3:35) (All my numbers were saying it *was* possible), but I can still do my best and learn something exciting for my future. And if I am tempted to break the rules and run with my stitches before the two weeks are up? I just remind myself that busting them open would mean more time away from something I really want to grasp from God and give back to Him. He gave me this time off as mind renewal. It is such a personal, deep thing for me, involving my history. I won't go into that now.
Melanoma versus Marathon! I have learned that I need to be more gracious and relaxed with myself, so I can treat my family and others the same. I have **a lot** of practice to do. But look at all the reminders my body has left for me to remember my purpose. I have marks from pregnancy, a C-section, training progress from all my workouts, now a cancer scar, and so much more: I want my body to glorify Christ in whatever circumstances I face. BE GRACIOUS. SHARE LOVE--THAT MEANS RECEIVE IT AS WELL AS GIVE IT.
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| I got myself a KAVU sun hat. I will be lathering on the sunscreen and covering up. I love being outside, but I will respect the sun's rays more than I ever did before. My babies and hubby will be covered too. |
