BREAST CANCER: WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE BREAST CANCER: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts

Lorilyn With Her Mom Finishing Treatment 2017

My first chemo treatment was easy. But the two days leading up to it were not.

When I went to Moffitt to get a second opinon, the doctor recommended I have a CT scan performed on my lungs for a pleural effusion that showed up on the PET scan. She had never seen a pleural effusion caused only by surgery. 

So, of course, that gave me something else to worry about. None of my doctors had mentioned getting a CT scan on the lungs. The X-ray had been clear before the surgery.  

The CT scan was set up for the next day, a welcomed surprise it was accomplished so quickly, but the CT nurse didn’t know how to access my chemo port correctly. It was the most painful procedure I’d had done yet - unbearable. She didn’t flush out the port afterwards, and apparently when the contrast was put into the vein during the CT scan, it didn’t go into my vein but extravasated into the surrounding tissue. Talk about painful, I could’t quit crying. 

I was afraid I’d never get through the sixteen weeks of chemotherapy. Later, the infusion nurses told me never to let anyone access the port but them. The CT nurse could have damaged the infusion site. This could have caused a blood clot, infection, more surgery, and skin grafting. She also didn’t flush it.
  

The CT nurse took me back to the waiting room where I cried some more. Another patient asked if he could pray for me. I thanked him. That was the lowest point of my cancer journey. If I couldn’t handle the port being accessed, how could I handle the chemo treatment?

On the way to my CT appointment, one of our cats had something wrong with him. He was walking around the house groaning. We had taken him to the vet the week before for urine issues and an obstruction. He didn’t have an obstruction then, but I was certain he had one now. 

With male cats, it’s an emergency. I was afraid he would die without immediate care, but I was on my way to my CT scan. They squeezed me in because of the concern raised by the doctor at Moffitt. The procedure also needed to be done before I started chemo.

I called my oldest daughter. She left work and came to get Anakin to take him to the vet. Otherwise, I could not have made my appointment. The vet said he would have died within an hour without being seen. He’s still at the vet being treated. Hopefully he can come home Monday. We have switched to a prescription cat food that should prevent this from happening again. 

The next day, following the CT scan and endoscopy procedure, I hadn’t received the results, so I was anxious for the infusion appointment. I had my highest blood pressure reading ever. 

When I met with the PA, she said the lungs showed no signs of cancer, and the endoscopy biopsies were related to heartburn. Talk about relief. That would have pushed me into a stage 4 breast cancer. It’s hard for me to believe I’m a stage 3 because I had a clear mammogram and sonogram. No spread to nodes was visible on MRI or exam. The spread to the lymph nodes showed up microscopically on the biopsy.

I am now in my fourth week of Taxol treatment. I have eight more weeks to go. This will be followed by eight weeks of Adriamycin (four treatments in all on this one, every other week.)

I’m thankful I’ve started chemo treatment, and I'm thankful that through four treatments, I haven't had any side effects. 

I attribute the good outcome of my surgery and the ease so far of the chemotherapy to God’s faithfulness and prayers of so many saints. 

I hope all the additional treatments go as easily as the first four infusions, but I’ve heard people say the side effects get worse. In the meantime, I like to think the drugs are hunting down any cancer cells in my body and killing them.

The doctors have said that it's highly unusual a 1.7 cm tumor to be in as many lymph nodes as shown in the pathology report — 11 out of 15. That’s just a little larger than half an inch. 

Someday I hope to share this story — my cancer is like sin. Something that small in my body is deadly. Without Jesus Christ, a tiny bit of sin will keep us out of heaven. Something to think about, isn’t it?

Thanks again for your prayers. I really appreciate it. And if you love animals, pray that our little kitty that was found abandoned a few years ago will be restored to health. His name is Anakin.

Addendum:  Little Anakin is doing very well now:)

BREAST CANCER - GOD'S GOT MY BACK: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts

Cedar Key 4-3-2017

Perhaps today I write my most difficult blog post. My oldest daughter would say I’m being too dramatic, too emotional, giving too much information, or giving too much of something. I’ve waited three months to write about my diagnosis because, first, I didn’t know what to say. Then I was too busy learning about things I never thought I would need to know. Then I got depressed and didn’t want to write anything.

In the middle of my emotional roller coaster ride, I was trying to finish The Prescience. I got to 91,000 words and realized, this can’t all fit into one book. I will have to break it up into two books. I probably set a record writing all those words in about six weeks. I was determined to finish it before my surgery in case I didn’t wake up. I thought at least some poor soul could edit and publish it.

I have since split up the manuscript into two books and am editing book 5, The Prescience.

To be candid, though, the number of doctors’ appointments has slowed me down. Last week I had five doctors’ appointments and two surgeries. Rather overwhelming. I told one doctor, “Cancer sucks.” In case you didn’t know this, cancer has a way of screwing up well-intentioned plans.

When I lay inside the MRI listening to it bang out disturbing dins as it took images, I recited the words from one of my favorite songs, “Jesus is coming back again.” As the minutes dragged on—I had to stay in a very uncomfortable position for a very long time—I shortened it to “Jesus is coming.” By the end of the longest thirty-plus minutes of my life, all I could say was “Jesus.”

That was back in the first week of January. Biopsies confirmed breast cancer. I’ll save the details for later, when I’m not facing the harshness of chemo followed by radiation.  How do you describe three months of nonstop medical treatment anyway? I still have a minimum of seven more months to go. Once the cancer treatment is finished, I’ll have six months off, and then the doctors can finish the reconstruction. I opted for a double mastectomy with implants.

My blog entries look rather empty for 2017. If you are receiving this as my quarterly email, you haven’t heard from me since October. I met my surgeon on the day Trump was inaugurated. 2017 will be known as the year I fought cancer.

Seriously, cancer is life changing. I’m thankful God is unchanging. In the midst of everything, He has been my rock and my anchor. My verse through all of this is Isaiah 58:8:  

Then your salvation will come like the dawn 

and your wounds will quickly heal. 

Your godliness will lead you forward 

and the joy of the Lord 

will protect you from behind.

I have no memory of writing that verse in the back of my note pad. I found it—just when I needed it. My translation is, “God has my back.”

What is God teaching me? That I have a long ways to go to be the person He wants me to be. Hebrews 12:5 is very helpful:

And you have forgotten that word of encouragement 
that addresses you as sons [and daughters],

My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,

And do not lose heart when he rebukes you,

Because the Lord disciplines those he loves,

And he punishes everyone he accepts as a son.

Endure hardship as discipline.

God is treating you as sons…

Perhaps to some this might sound harsh, but to me, I'm reassured of God's love. While Satan wanted to discourage me and keep me from finishing the Seventh Dimension Series, I knew God was and is using my cancer diagnosis for good. He’s teaching me things I could not learn any other way. 

So I press on, facing months of treatment, knowing God has my back. I feel Jesus’ presence each day, meeting my felt needs through family, friends, and prayer warriors. Some of those praying I don’t know, but God knows them and hears them. 

I’m thankful for everyone who has brought food, sent notes, delivered flowers, called, emailed, and posted on my Facebook page. I honestly don’t know how anyone goes through cancer treatment or any other heartache without our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I’m thankful I have a good prognosis, but mostly I’m thankful God is with me. The reality is, all of us are mortal, and knowing Jesus is coming back is most reassuring. 

One book I found helpful is Don’t Waste Your Cancer by John Piper. There is more I could say, but I’ll save it for later. Please pray I won’t waste my cancer, I keep my eyes on Jesus, I don’t grow weary, and I glorify God through the very last day of treatment. I can tell you, I have not been who I could have been at times. I’m learning to live more humbly.

My focus when not dealing with cancer treatment has been to edit The Prescience. Book 6 doesn’t have a title yet, and – yes, I can’t believe it, but there will be a book 7. 

A little tease is in order—book 7 won’t be written from the point of view of Shale or Daniel. I’ll let you wonder from whose viewpoint it will be written.

I’m excited to be editing The Prescience even if it’s at a slower pace. Hopefully, my writing will be impacted in a positive way. I pray God will touch my emotional creativity to make my writing more heart-felt as Shale and Daniel battle an uncertain future that we will all be facing soon.

The most important thing for me right now is to stay close to God, love my family, value my friendships, and seek God’s will in all areas of my life—even in the mundane.

I start chemo on Friday this week. I know some days will be harder than others, but I know I can get through it with God helping me. Your prayers are immensely appreciated.