I have something to tell you… I have cancer

We had two options. Option number 1- I take Provera monthly, forcing a withdrawal bleed, and cleaning out my body naturally as well as regulating my periods so we can try to get pregnant. Option 2- We undergo a D&C to clean me out all at once, then regulate my periods using Provera and try to get pregnant. Option 1 was going to be a longer process. It also meant that every month until I naturally cleaned out, I was going to be out of work for at least a week. Every period I had for the last two years prior was a nightmare. 

As part of having PCOS, Aunt Flo would come to visit me at irregular times. As I started to age and became sexually active, my periods started becoming farther and farther apart. Before I knew it, my period was basically non-existent. I would have a period every 4 to 6 months. My body became like a ticking time-bomb! When my period finally came, I would become so sick and nauseous that I could barely stand. I would bleed so heavily that a couple of times I was tempted to have Nick take me to the emergency room. Pads were not enough. I would send my poor husband to the grocery store to buy adult diapers and baby wipes! It was so embarrassing for both of us! Needless to say, I did not want to go through that again more than I had to. We decided to go with Option 2. 

D&C stands for Dilation and Curettage. It is a very standard procedure where the cervix is expanded, and tissue from inside the uterus is scraped away. The procedure can actually be done in-office, but since it is so uncomfortable and painful, gynecologists prefer to perform the procedure under anesthesia. Surprisingly, I was able to be scheduled for surgery that week! 

I’ve had surgery before for various reasons. Nick, my husband, had never had surgery, so he was pretty nervous. I felt confident and reassured that this procedure was going to be quick and it was standard. It was outpatient and took place on a Thursday. I was expected to be able to return to work by the following Monday. Not a big deal.

Nick drove me to the hospital on Thursday morning, bright and early. I got checked in. The nurses took my height and weight and led us to my room. I was given a gown and instructed to change- take everything off, put the gown on, leaving the opening in the back. I got myself changed and comfortable in the bed. As we sat and waited for the nurse to come back, Nick asked, “So, did you tell your mom?” 

We have made a lot of progress, but as an adult child and a grown up, married woman, I had to start working to put up healthy boundaries with my parents. Boundaries are hard. There were periods of not talking to my family, and that was so heartbreaking and difficult. But we have had many conversations since then. Though our relationship is not perfect, my relationship with my parents is so much healthier because of my boundaries!  

Did I tell my mom I was having surgery? No. With my boundaries was a list of topics that were off limits. My health was one of them. I figured, the procedure is routine enough that it was not necessary to inform her. My reply to Nick was, “Nope. She doesn’t need to know about this. It’s not that big of a deal.” Then I added, “If I have cancer and am dying, then yes, I will tell my mom.” 

Well, a couple of weeks after my procedure, I received a phone call. It was my OB calling on her personal cell phone on a Friday evening. “Jessica, you have endometrial cancer.” Well, now I guess I have to tell my mom…. I was supposed to have a post-op appointment on Wednesday. My doctor urged me to come in on Monday instead. “Tell the front office I okayed you coming in.” 

I decided to wait until after my Monday appointment to tell my parents. They were going to have questions, and I wanted to be able to give them as many answers as I could. But I needed to tell someone. In Romans 12:15 in the Bible, it says, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” I needed someone to mourn with me. This was a big deal, and I felt overwhelmed. Thankfully, we have an amazing church community! Our church has small groups we call community groups. Within those community groups are smaller groups called discipleship groups. This group for me was a small group of women who shared life together. 

I had only recently started sharing about my struggles with infertility. It has always been a hard subject. Something that seems so easy for everyone else has been a struggle for my husband and I. Almost everyone else in our community group had kids, were pregnant, or just had a baby. Then there was us, the 30-somethings with no kids. But no one pressed or asked about our plans for a family. 

I am typically a quiet person and I like to keep super personal things to myself unless I am very close with someone. But struggling for so long was starting to feel really lonely. I really needed to talk to someone about it. Keeping my infertility struggles quiet was not helpful to my soul. So, I finally opened up to my discipleship group. I also told them about our new OB and how excited I was to start working on my fertility journey again. They were excited for me and what the future may bring, that is, until that day in May.

After I got off the phone with my doctor, I headed to the grocery store. My husband was at work, so I had to call him and give him the bad news. Once I got to the grocery store parking lot and parked the car, I sat for a minute to compose myself. I then messaged the girls. 

“Hey guys, so the polyps that were removed after my surgery were sent to a lab for analysis. The labs came back today. This feels weird to say over text, but… I have cancer. It’s not every day your doctor calls you on her personal cell phone! Nick and I definitely are in need of prayer right now.”

Immediately, the ladies from my discipleship group surrounded me with support. We all got together the next day for coffee and venting. They prayed over me and held me while I cried. There were lots of tears in general that day. But having a support team right from the get-go was just what I needed at that moment. 

Talking about the news was difficult, and I cried so easily. Come Monday, the water-works flowed continuously. The next person to tell was my supervisor at work. I cancelled my music therapy clients that day. I told them I was “sick,” which was sort of true. I try to maintain healthy professional boundaries with clients. I am there to help them. They do not need to know my personal business. However, having cancer was potentially going to mean more days of feeling sick and more medical appointments. I was anticipating needing to cancel on my clients more frequently, and I wanted to be able to give them a heads up, but how was I going to do that professionally? 

Nick and I were getting ready to head to my impromptu appointment with my OBGYN. I texted my supervisor, assuming she’d have time later in the afternoon or evening to talk. I asked if she had some time to schedule a phone call. I told her I wanted to give a personal update and needed some guidance on how to move forward. To my surprise, she was free relatively quickly. 

She called me, and I told her the news. Again, I typically try to remain professional when it comes to work. However, cancer is a bit of a big deal. As I told her what happened and what had been going on, the water works began to flow. She was super supportive, offered prayer, and anything else I might need. She also encouraged me to talk to my families. We determined I could tell them “I received a diagnosis that is going to require ongoing medical treatment, so I may be sick more often or need to cancel more frequently.” That sounded professional without spilling out all of my business to my clients. 

After I got off the phone with my supervisor, we went to my appointment. We didn’t get as many answers as we had hoped for. The doctor re-explained what she told me on the phone. I had cancer, but out of all the cancers, it was the most treatable. I would probably just need to take a pill to get rid of the cancer. We would then try for a baby. After having a baby, I would ultimately need a hysterectomy, or removal of my uterus. 

Now that my appointment was over, I needed to tell my family. I wanted to tell my parents together, but my dad worked until later in the afternoon. In the meantime, I called my closest friends. With each person, it was the same story over and over again. “I have some news I need to tell you….” There were a lot of deep breaths. A lot of tears. A lot of “I’ll be praying for you.” A lot of “If you need anything, seriously, let me know!” Most of the people I told cried with me. You would think that by telling the story over and over again, that I’d settle down and feel more calm with each person. That was not the case. Each time I started to tell the story, it was like opening my fresh wound over and over again. 

Finally, evening rolled around, and I had to tell my parents. I sent a group text to my mom, dad, and youngest sister. My sister called me, so I broke the news to her. “Any ideas on how to ease the blow to mom?” I asked. I assumed my mom was probably going to cry and wouldn’t take it well. My sister did not have any suggestions, unfortunately. Then my mom called. It was time. 

“I have something I need to tell you guys.” My father exclaimed with excitement, “Are you pregnant?!” I so desperately wished that was the news I had to give them. I was quiet for a moment, trying to keep it together. Nope. There was no keeping it together. “I have cancer,” I told them through new tears. 

This was obviously not the news anyone was hoping for. I told my parents about the D&C I had kept from them. I told them about the polyps and about what the doctor had said.” When I started to talk about having a baby, my mother’s concern was, “Is that safe?” Of course, she started to cry. But she was also encouraging to me at that moment. 

My grandmother in her 40’s was diagnosed with breast cancer. She later developed breast cancer again in her 80’s. My aunt had breast cancer in her 40’s twice. When I was a freshman in high school, my mother developed breast cancer in her 40’s as well. She had a double mastectomy to prevent future instances of cancer. 

She told me, “You come from a family and legacy of warriors. Me, your aunt, and your grandmother all had breast cancer and beat it. You can beat it. You need to stay strong and stay positive.” Yes, I did come from a family of warriors. The women in my family all survived. As we ended the call, my parents promised to pray, and pray hard. They encouraged me to pray as well. 

Now that the hardest part was done, I had to tell my clients. I spent the rest of the week talking to my clients. Session after session, my heart pounded knowing the conversation I was going to have with my clients and their families once the session was done. I nervously gave them my script. “I received a medical diagnosis that is going to require ongoing care. I may need to cancel more frequently, but I will do my best to stay consistent.” For a few families that I worked with for several years I actually did openly tell them that I had cancer. Several of them cried and hugged me. More prayers and support were offered. 

That week of finding out about my cancer was so hard. By the end of the week, I was exhausted. I was tired of telling the same story over and over again. I was worried about the boundaries with my parents that I worked so hard to establish. What is going to become of my boundaries? How am I going to navigate this? The lines between being professional and personal within my work were also blurred. How do I maintain professional boundaries while going through such a serious thing?  

One thing I learned during this time was to breathe. As I texted and called people, I received lots of messages. People wanted updates. People wanted to check up on me. They wanted to let me know they were praying. People asked if I needed anything. I was bombarded. I finally reached a point when a text came, and I said, “I will deal with it later.” There was so much going on that it was impossible to keep up all the time. It was exhausting to respond right away. I had to learn to listen to my body and care for myself. Otherwise, I was headed for overwhelm quickly. 

Things that gave me relief included being around people, receiving prayer, and having people to process with, not just relay information to. Having a support system is so, so, so important. If you are going through what I’m going through, and you feel alone, find some community! Join a local church! Get your girlfriends together. Surround yourself with hugs and shoulders to cry on. Battles are not meant to be fought alone.

Among the support we received during this time, my sweet sister-in-law started a GoFundMe campaign for us to help with medical bills and possible fertility treatment. Follow me on social media and check out future blog posts as I share my story. Breast cancer seems to get all the attention in the media. But not all cancer is pink! My aim is to share my story and bring awareness beyond the pink ribbon.