Diana's Story: Trusting My Faith in the Face of Breast Cancer

Her words were falling beside me. I felt dizzy and lost control. What was that?

My legs were shaking. Did I actually hear what she was saying?

I did not know If I would be able to get up from that chair. Did she say the “C” word?

It started with a regular routine check-up. Usually I hear, "All is good, blah-blah, see you next year." Not this time.

“We would like to discuss some stuff with you.” Oh, that does not sound encouraging…

“Something looks suspicious. You see these areas here are clustered.” What does that mean? The holidays are coming and I do not want to deal with this now.

Jingle bells came and went away but still, that feeling of uncertainty was there. And here comes the Spring: The investigations. The biopsies. Some were more hurtful than others. Really? Can’t they find a gentler way to do these?

I run from appointment to appointment and with this dreading feeling of not knowing what is going on.

And now she tells me the “C” word. Wait — that is in stories I read in the magazines. I saw documentaries on TV. I eat healthy, I love to exercise, no history in the family, what do you mean? Cannot be…

She tells me I need to go for an MRI next. That this seems stage 0 breast cancer. Who knows what stages are?

Days are passing by in a blur. I see the doctor again, a very nice lady, soft-spoken, caring, who was an artist in a previous life. Now sculpting on bodies.

She said that unfortunately the C is spread in two areas of my right breast. That a cyst was found that is already stage I or II. I cannot even remember what she said. These numbers do not make any sense to me.

And the bomb: she recommends the removal of my right breast. We’ve already gone through lumpectomy and they tried to take out part of it, but now the second area appears out of nowhere and they cannot save it anymore.

What about my nipple? The one that I used to breastfeed my babies — can they save it? She does not think so…

I am going for a second opinion with another surgeon. She gave me some false hopes but, in the end, she agreed with the first’s doctor decision, which was actually her student a long time ago.

I walk the streets and cannot find myself. I tell my husband the latest news and here starts a struggle. We wake up every day with this unsettling feeling in our throats. That we completely lost control of our lives. We have this house, two beautiful children, we love to go to concerts together, we like to go hiking, to run, to bike… Where is this all going now?

I am praying more than ever.

One night I start to cry and cannot stop. We never even had a wedding…

Another night I am in church at midweek and tears start to fall on my cheeks and I am embarrassed, here in front of all the women from church. But this is why I was there to begin with, wasn’t it?

I have to deal with this somehow.

I need to raise my kids and I still have things to do, and to say. I have drawings to complete, poems to write, and feelings I never expressed. I have a husband to love. I need to solve my conflicts. To say I’m sorry. The list continues. This cannot end here, no way

The minutes are longer, the days go by, and have a different taste… Can I still bike? Can I still do the things I love? Can we still go on vacation?

Okay, let’s do a bike tour, I have to escape this. Meditation on wheels for hours. Feels great, but I am not resolved…

We are going to Canada. Nice friends, all planned and fun. I am trying to share my struggles with the women in the group — they seem compassionate but do they really understand what I am going through?

We snap pictures and I try to smile thinking my family and friends can have this memory of me.

Back to work — some of the women there had to deal with this, at least they will understand what I am going through…

The surgery is scheduled. I feel like I am getting ready for Halloween. My costume will be a bloody white sheet.

I have to meet with a plastic surgeon as well. The other part of the story — he is an artist as well. What is with these surgeons and art? Rebuilding bodies seems noble.

It seems both surgeons need to work together, one to take out and the other one to reconstruct. I get to choose what will be inside, and they make money out of this.

I am writing an email to my parents. Could not tell them over the phone. How can you say that to them? They are left stunned in a faraway land.

Days go by. I need to get ready. I am receiving some thoughtful gifts from my boss: A nightgown from our business's sleepwear collection, a silver necklace with a silver breast design.

On the day of the surgery, I have a light heart and run from the subway to the hospital, the early morning breeze giving me blessings.

The plastic surgeon’s assistant is very nice and helpful; all is going well… as well as it can go.

I have to say goodbye to my right breast… going into deep sleep… emotions and blurry images…

When I wake up the pain is unbearable. I see smiling faces. A beautiful older woman from our church is visiting me — so nice of her. Another amazing woman from church works as a nurse and she arranges for a private room so my mom can stay with me to help. My poor mom, what is in her soul now…

My husband is running around helping with the house and kids and all I need, and takes me home. Pain comes and goes with medicine’s help. I hate the drain under my arm but is needed. It seems all went well. The skin remained mine. I have an expander inside to keep it stretched.

Appointments and reconstruction follow. A week later the drain is gone. Thank God.

Exchanging the expander for silicone implant. Still a scar, still uneven.

Nipple reconstruction which is actually a tattoo, fading in time.

I am thinking about getting a permanent tattoo, that would be fun. I want to design something — maybe a bird, an abstract scribble, anything to cover this.

I am getting used to the new reality — a little bored staying home and sleeping in a recliner so I am checking work emails. I receive a beautiful basket from my workplace. So nice of them to send it. I get visits from my church friends who give me books to help me with my faith.

Why God, why me is imminent.

I remain faithful though. My soul went down to my knees and never left during this time. I had to survive on prayers.

I’ve been watching my new breast become a part of me. The skin looks like it still belongs to me. Is it alive though?

Then one day I see a tiny hair coming out through my new breast skin surface and with it hope arrived and threw me back into life.

It is 2020 and we are fighting a pandemic. I postpone my medical check-ups due to this. Something is nagging at me though. I have to do my annual mammogram and sonogram and also, I have to do an MRI to check on the silicone implant status.

First time I am going to the city after 4 months of isolation. Meantime, I have no work and no idea what the future might hold for me. I am fighting the system, getting unemployment and thinking about new perspectives for my life.

I pick up the films from the city location to do my mammogram and sonogram in the suburbs where I live. The sono is showing two nodules on my left breast, but my primary doctor is saying let’s wait and check it in 6 months. I am going to do the MRI though for the right breast and cancer screening for the left breast.

The report is recommending biopsies on those two nodules. Oh, no… My breath stops for a few seconds.

The biopsy itself is a whole procedure that tests all my patience and mental strength. I have to stay face down with my arms up to go in and out of the MRI machine. First, they take images with no contrast, then images with contrast. Even though I asked them to play classical music, the noise of the machine plus the uncomfortable position I am in makes me want to scream.

I wanted to get out several times. I breathe in, breathe out. I am telling myself not to move so I don’t have to repeat this. I am thinking about my mom and want to take care of her. I am thinking of my daughter: I hope she never has to go through this. I am thinking about my husband: no way he could have been able to sit still like this.

One of the biopsy specialists arrives and talks to me and I am grateful for her words and for patting my back. I need to be distracted by this somehow. The technicians are all nice and helpful. This will be over soon.

The doctor is giving me injections in my breast so I don’t feel the needles when they go in. That part does not bother me as much as staying with my face down slanted and not being able to move. Finally, it is done. Thank God.

I follow up and ask for the reports. On the morning the lab results came in I go over them with the doctor. He is telling me that there are no cancerous cells, but in the same time they are not normal. What does that mean?

Later on, I go to pick up the reports. LCIS? I had DCIS in the right breast before. So basically, if I do nothing, these cells can turn into cancer. Again?

I go home and am trying to explain to my husband what the report is saying but cannot find my words properly. Meantime, I researched LCIS and what that means. It is nothing I can ignore.

I tried to contact my old breast surgeon but it seems she moved in another state and is too far to go there for an appointment. I am looking for another breast doctor and make an appointment but it is a few weeks ahead.

It is clear that at least part of my left breast will need to be removed with these abnormal cells. Shall I just decide to take the whole breast out? Again?

To be determined.

I finally meet with the breast surgeon who is experienced, nice, old-school kind of guy. Delicately, he is saying it is my choice. Partial or total removal. If partial, I will need checkups every 6 months and anti-cancer medicine. Oh, not the tamoxifen again.

If total, they can spare my nipple this time. He assures me he collaborates with a very good plastic surgeon and they will do a good job whatever my decision is.

I made my decision while I was reading the reports on the internet about LCIS. But of course, there will be days when I will doubt my decision. There will be days when I will be angry, days when I will try to stay calm, days when I will feel pity for myself.

I share the news with my family and close friends. I tell all I am ok this time. Not scared like I was 8 years ago. Still feel out of control of course. But I know God is there watching over me because he guided me to discover this…Thank you.

We go to the breast doctor office and we are shocked. His office is full of plushies and angels and prayers and memorabilia. The assistant is saying people think he is an angel watching over them.

Yes, the prayers written all over the place fall in line with my hopes. But I don’t know why I feel some sales pitch in there somewhere.

Anyway, he talks to the plastic surgeon over the phone to introduce me. I will meet him next.

I try to have a daily routine — waking kids up for school, reading the news while sipping my coffee, looking for jobs, learning new things, working on ideas for my business, talking to my collaborators.

I have to remove the whole breast again. No point in keeping parts of it and worry that the beast will eat from it again. I am a warrior! I will get through this.

We go visit the plastic surgeon and he seems direct, polite and he addresses the options I have. And his father was born in the same country where we are from. What are the odds?

It is a sunny day outside and I feel optimistic. This too shall pass. Let’s take it one day at a time.

I am trying to remain calm in the days that follow. Just concentrate on the thing at task. What a year we have! Between the pandemic and the medical issues, can this be over yet?

Tests to follow: body scan, bone scan, presurgical testing, medical clearances — all okay.

The plastic surgeon has another meeting with me to explain the procedure and the follow up in the months to come. Three drains?

As days go by and the day of the surgery approaches, I am trying hard to remain calm and positive. I have my anxious moments. The fact that I already went through this definitely helps. I know what to expect.

The day before I am nervous and impatient. I pray.

The day of the surgery I prepare slowly and carefully. At least it is not too early.

My husband takes me to the hospital and stays with me until I go in. I already washed with a special disinfecting sponge two times. One nurse does it again before the surgery. The plastic surgeon arrives all dressed in protective equipment and takes a black marker and draws all over my chest area. I am marked. He is in control.

The breast surgeon is in another procedure that gets delayed. We are all waiting. I see one anesthesiologist and he gets me ready. Last minute they change him. I heard he worked all night and it was decided he should go home. The second one pushes my husband out. I say goodbye and… silence.

I wake up several hours later. Do not remember anything. I am in pain and with bandages and dizzy. But my mind functions somehow. I do not feel so nauseous like last time.

The nurse is giving me pain medication, checks on me, lets me recover, and calls my husband so we can talk. The visiting hours are almost over, so it seems I will not see him tonight. They are taking me to a room.

I feel we are so fragile. In our hospital gowns with our backs and our whole life exposed.

I admire all the medical personnel from the surgeons to the physician assistants. They are nice, patient, caring.

This is also a Catholic hospital and I see crosses with Jesus everywhere.

I do not want to activate the TV, and just watch the Catholic channel, an interesting documentary about Paul. We talked about him recently, the struggles… We studied Philippians 4:10-13.

The biggest challenge of all. How to “remain content IN ALL SITUATIONS”? Paul said that while he was in prison.

The person that shares the room with me is an older African-American woman who had a heart bypass surgery last week and is on dialysis. She has a great Bible and likes fried chicken. Not sure the last one is good for her, though, but we talk about God. He is our Rock and Redeemer. Now more than ever!

Is hard to get any sleep in the hospital but I manage to fall asleep in two parts while on pain medication and antibiotic. Both surgeons visit me in the morning, I am taking instructions and remain calm. All is good. They release me from the hospital. I was treated well, and am grateful.

I get visited by the hospital priest as well. He looks of Indian descent. I ask him if he converted. He said he was always Christian as were his parents. I tell him I am as well and that I belong to the New York City Church of Christ. He says he will pray for me.

It’s a rainy day in on Long Island. Another hurricane is brushing Louisiana’s coast bringing floods and damages. It will rain here tomorrow as well.

I am okay, except when we go over potholes. We get home, I am able to eat something and then I go to sleep. I need to recover. My mother-in-law who lives nearby brings food for the whole family.

Everything will be okay. God is in control. I remain in Him as He remains in me. That is the idea.

Again, I am brought down to my knees. I am humbled beyond any imagination by everything that happened this year: The pandemic, the loss of my job, the emotions, the depression, the anxiety. The endless “what do I do now?” The webinars for self-improvement. The explorations, the self-doubt, the disappointments.

But I remain faithful. I know God will not abandon me. He will be there for me. He will surprise me when I least expect it. He calms me. I will be okay one day. For now, let me recover and be patient. I cannot wait to see what the future holds.

Before the surgery, I talked to God to give me a hopeful sign. After surgery, I receive an email from the recruiter of a company that contacted me recently. They will schedule a phone interview. Thank you, God. I knew You would show me a sign.

The Sunday after the surgery is my birthday. The 52^nd one. I talk to my parents and am grateful for many things. I do want to stay quiet and meditate. But of course, my sister wants to see me, and my sister-in-law, and some close friends.

I receive so many flowers. They cut a cake for me. I am trying to hold back my tears but have to let them flow.

A friend from church is visiting with a basket full of goodies and books from my Bible Talk. She did not know was my birthday but all comes together in such a beautiful way. I may not have a lot, but my life is full of love!

I am beyond grateful for all the people that called or texted or came to see me. Especially on this day. It was the most beautiful and meaningful birthday. Pain can only be overcome with LOVE.

I receive more packages in the days to come. I take it slow, I get some rest, I measure the liquid in the drains, one comes out, two more to go.

The rainy days turn into sunny days. When I feel strong enough, I go for walks to breathe. I get tired but am okay.

Sometimes I see myself with strength in the future building a new me. I am committed to become who I always wanted to be. To reach my potential. To believe in myself and what I can do. To be smart about my choices.

The pathology report looks okay. Hopefully I will not have to worry about any medical issues soon.

Life goes on.

America has a new president. One of my best friends got engaged. There are still things to be happy about.

I consequently went for doctor visits every week for reconstruction. My new breasts started to get shape; it was getting exciting to see a better form and outcome. I was reconnecting with my husband in new ways through it all.

I even started to exercise at the beginning of the year and was hopeful to get back in shape.

Phone conversations with my old boss brought some hope that I might even get some work after 10 months of quietness and trying to find some meaningful purpose. Not sure why nothing came to fruition though… I kept trying.

We scheduled the next procedure which was supposed to be final step — taking out the tissue expanders and adding in the silicone implants. Maybe this will be over soon…

I have hope of working again — made a deal to start soon, but still have to go thorough procedures and recovery. It’s okay, I am strong, and can be at the computer while recovering.

I even start doing research for cool tattoos to add to my body on the right side where I have many scars, going to the back over the shoulder — like redesigning me again.

I go in again, down and under… drains again, doctor office visits again, drains out — yay!

I start working and discover there is an end of the season urgency and I put in long hours! I am very tired and still weak but I push through. I have to recalibrate my wavelength with the people I used to work with — with some it is okay, with others not so much. God, please give me patience…

One day, I sense a bulge under the left breast that seems unusual. Well, I had a doctor appointment that day and will discuss it. It was not my regular doctor so after all info is being sent to my primary surgeon, I get a phone call: That spot has a risk of erupting and with it comes the risk of infection of the whole left breast area.

And while I am working on the computer, it starts leaking. I called my doctor again and he tells me to go back to the office as urgent intervention is needed.

And here I am, going back to the same office I visited in the morning. A third doctor is seeing me, he opens the last suture and is reinforcing the area with the problem. A drain goes back in until will go back into surgery to change the position of the implant — this time under the muscle. The way it was positioned over the muscle now with the alloderm in between the skin and implant was not workable for me. Who knows whose tissue this alloderm was that I was not accepting it. So, we are kind of taking it from the beginning on the left side, except mastectomy was already done.

I work crazy hours, hope to start making a living but in between I have to do tests and preparation for the next surgery. We are frustrated and sad that the story is not over yet. My surgeon tries to explain to my husband the whole story. I feel bad for the doctor as well, he warned me about that alloderm before.

The night before the procedure, the hospital calls me two times that they did not get the approval for the surgery yet. Will I go into surgery or not?

He calls me the next day and texts me that all was approved. Thank God!

I work a few hours before the surgery to help expedite the catalog for Fall '21 — everything is very late.

And I go in again, in the world of unknown dreams. As I wake up I remember how painful this kind of procedure is. I have to stay more in the recovery room to be able to sit in the chair and be taken home.

The next few days I deal with extreme pain and cannot handle the opioids; they give me dizziness, cold sweats and troubled thoughts. When will this pain subside?

I look at people around me like they are witnesses to my walk between different existences, between variations of pain. My mother-in-law wants to cook for me but I can’t even get up to go and check what is in the freezer… can’t deal with it. She sends good food to the family regardless. Friends and family check up on me. Thank God for them.

My husband is helping with all that he can. I tell my kids to do the dishes and they do it somehow without grumbling too much. I feel helpless but have to think is temporary.

One week later, I go see the doctor; he says it looks good and takes one drain out. One left. I cannot wait for the reconstruction part again, as the flatness depresses me.

He is encouraging me that the end line might be sooner than anticipated, maybe before two months but we shall see. I want to take it one day at a time.

While I go through this ordeal, my cousin from Denmark started chemo due to issues in one of her breasts that seems to be stage III cancer. And my mom falls again while doing some check-ups and stays mostly in bed, the neighbors are helping her and feed her. After tests, it was discovered that she has many health issues, but mostly a spinal fracture that will require surgery.

Okay, God, you are testing us…

I pray every day for all of us and I ask my friends from church to pray for these situations, and they comply. I am sure God will hear everyone’s prayers!

My mom had the surgery, was better for a while then back to pain — it is like pain is her normal now. My cousin continued chemo, hoping the tumor will shrink. One of my best friends is dealing with a rare blood cancer… not curable.

I had four surgeries on the left breast. I am finally done. The day the doctor took out the last drain I felt nostalgic... Is this the end?

The last surgery had also some stress due to insurance approvals right to he day of the surgery but finally got done.

Also, my sister-in-law ended up in the same hospital having a procedure the same day due to some unexpected blood clots.

I woke up with a new implant, new breast nice and soft. The scars will remain as witnesses of a long fight.

Dear God, I am grateful you took care of me during these crazy years!

I thank the doctors, the opportunity to be in the USA to do these procedures. I am feeling liberated. I am not sure what ambitions I have anymore. I just want to enjoy the moments I have, the family, the friends, the moments of simple joy. I do not strive for unlimited amounts of money or fame or anything else. I just want to sit down by the river of life and savor the moments that are coming and going. The LIFE. Just a simple warmth of sun on my cheeks. Just the bike ride. The wind blowing through my hair. The pure sincere laugh.

I am in the here and now. I want to remain in it into eternity.