Aly's Fight Page 5
I’m sure there were times when she heard me say that and thought, Yeah, right. Despite what they say, bald isn’t beautiful. But it was for her. Spending that time with her, serving her by washing, drying, and brushing her hair, was one of the most precious times of our marriage for me. As her hair came out—first a few strands at a time and then in handfuls—God gave me eyes to see how truly beautiful she is. Watching her fight this battle for her life with such faith and grace left me in awe. I thought back to that night when we were teenagers and I saw her reading her Bible in the ski lodge, and once again I asked myself, Is she out of my league? Yes, of course she is. But fortunately, she loves me anyway.
—ALY—
Those months of chemotherapy were rough. I lost all my hair, including my eyebrows and eyelashes. My fingernails and toenails turned black and fell off. I had extreme bone pain after rounds of injections. The effects weren’t just health-related either. Our lives were crazy for those six months of chemotherapy. We traveled back and forth from Louisiana to Houston every week, but we still fought to retain some sense of normalcy in our lives. We did not want to eat, sleep, and breathe cancer 24-7; we wanted our lives to be about more than my illness. So to the surprise of many people around me, I chose to stick with my PhD program during that time. I was only two months into the degree program when I was diagnosed; I had literally just started. My plan before cancer was to finish my doctorate in three years and start having kids. Well, kids were off the table for a while, but I wasn’t ready to give up my goal of finishing my degree in three years. Besides, I had an internship at a counseling clinic already lined up, and I knew my studies would be a great diversion for me.
We stayed so busy during the months of chemo that I didn’t give myself much time to sit around and mope about cancer. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, Josh and I went to work and school. We left for Houston on Thursday, got my treatment on Friday, then headed home to relax a little for the weekend. Then we’d get up Monday morning and start the whole thing again.
Sure, it was crazy for a while, but those were important months for us. They set the course for our entire cancer journey. I could have spent the whole time in bed, just getting up to go to my chemo treatments, but what kind of life would that have been? Instead, Josh and I chose to believe we’d have a life after cancer, and I knew my life after cancer included a PhD and a career in family therapy. So I kept working toward that goal. If I were sitting at home, I might have started to worry or feel sorry for myself, and that was the last thing I needed. While still accepting reality and taking care of myself, I trusted that Jesus had already healed me; I was just waiting to see the manifestation of that miracle.
We kept up that pace for months, right up until my last day of chemotherapy. It was a day to celebrate! Josh woke me up with a video he made for me filled with pictures and videos from my journey. Then we went to the hospital with my family, and my best friends surprised me in Houston for my last treatment. I loved seeing everyone there, but my mind was fixated on the bell mounted on the wall of the cancer center. Every time I went for a checkup or a chemo appointment, I saw that bell. The nurse told me on my first day that I would ring that bell after my last treatment. Today was the day! Praise God!
When that final treatment was over, I got up, walked out to that bell, and rang the heck out of it. We celebrated and screamed and praised God in that room. All the pain, travel, side effects, and prayers were worth it now that I had finished what I was told would be the hardest six months of my cancer battle. What a celebration!
My last ultrasound after chemo took a little of the joy out of the celebration for me, though. I had been praying for months that the chemotherapy would totally eradicate the cancer in my lymph nodes. I believed I had been fully healed of that, but the ultrasound showed otherwise. The doctor took regular ultrasounds throughout my treatment to check on the lymph nodes, and they always showed signs that they were responding to the treatment. The response wasn’t always (or even often) dramatic—sometimes there was little or no change—but at least they weren’t getting worse. I had really hoped this ultrasound would reveal a miracle, that God had replaced my sick, swollen lymph nodes with perfectly healthy and normal ones.
Well, that didn’t happen. The post-chemo ultrasound showed that the lymph nodes were “stable,” meaning they still looked abnormal but hadn’t gotten worse. The oncologist told me we’d know for sure what was going on with the lymph nodes after they were removed during my mastectomy surgery, but for now, I still had cancer.
NEXT UP: MASTECTOMY
I only had three weeks to catch my breath before it was time to undergo a bilateral mastectomy. To be honest, I wasn’t super tied to my breasts. I knew I would be okay without them, though I knew eventually I did want to undergo breast reconstruction. The main thing I was concerned about was how my husband would view me, and I was crushed to know that I couldn’t breastfeed if we were able to have children down the road.
As Josh and I waited outside the doctor’s office for my mastectomy consult, it dawned on me that he and I had never really talked about what I would look like when all this was over. With the biggest lump in my throat, I finally asked, “Will you still be attracted to me?” It took him a while to respond, which worried me a bit. After sitting in silence for a moment, he said, “Aly, I honestly think I will be more attracted to you after the surgery. Every time I look at you, we will be reminded of what Satan tried to do to harm you and how God healed you. That is so very beautiful.” Oh, my man. That was the perfect response at the perfect time. It was truly one of the most tender moments we’ve ever had together.
I think about those words every time I see myself in a mirror. I have visible signs on my body that testify to the healing power of our loving God. Genesis 50:20 inspires me, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done.” I have no excuse for ever forgetting what God has done or what He can do in any situation. Do you have something you can put in front of yourself every day to remind you of what God has done in your life? If we’re not intentional about reminding ourselves, we’ll start to forget—and I never want to forget how faithful God has been in my life.
Of course, I’ve now had several years to get comfortable with who I am and how I look. Sitting in the doctor’s office that day, though, I wondered how Josh could honestly believe that. How could he find me more attractive? No hair. No breasts. The guilt I felt for putting him through all this had been piling up. He’s the person I love most in the world. The thought of adding so much pain to his life broke my heart. But he wouldn’t have it when I started in with my apologies. He told me so many times, “Aly, you haven’t done anything to me. Cancer is doing this, and it’s doing it to both of us. And we’re going to beat it together.” So with my amazing husband at my side, we scheduled the mastectomy surgery—the next item on our list.
—JOSH—
Aly had both breasts and nineteen lymph nodes removed on April 23, 2012. It was a long, six-hour surgery, and our friends and family prayed like crazy the entire time. Not only was this a major surgery physically, but it had huge implications for her cancer prognosis. Everything the doctors removed would be tested for cancer, and we would learn if the chemotherapy had worked. That would tell us if Aly was cancer-free or if she’d need further treatment.
After waiting for what seemed like forever, I was finally called back to talk to the doctor and told the surgery was successful and that Aly was doing well. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready to see her! When I got to her recovery room, Aly was awake and in a tremendous amount of pain. She kept complaining about being hot, so I jumped into action and tried to cool her down. I got ice water and kept putting ice rags all over her. No one was too concerned since she didn’t have a fever, but Aly just kept saying how hot she was. In all the years we’d been together, I had only known her to be freezing 98 percent of the time. So hearing her complain so much about the room temperature worried me a
bit.
The pain and heat continued after she was moved out of recovery and into a regular hospital room. That’s when the nausea kicked in too. For the first time in my life, I saw my bride helpless. Even during the worst parts of chemo, Aly had been able to take care of herself, but now she was in excruciating pain, unable to cool off, and throwing up almost nonstop. She had five surgical drains that had to be emptied and recorded. She needed help going to the bathroom. Six months into this journey together, and I think this was the moment that gave us the biggest reality check about what our lives would look like for the foreseeable future.
Aly was able to get more comfortable and cool off when we finally got her home, but she still needed around-the-clock care. I also knew at some point she would need help removing her bandages and cleaning the surgical site. Neither of us discussed how we’d handle that; I just waited for her lead. I had been preparing my heart and mind for this moment, though. I knew my reaction would be everything to her and that it would be a moment neither of us would ever forget.
The day finally arrived when Aly asked me to help her remove the bandages. She said she was ready for both of us to see her scars (she hadn’t seen herself yet either). As I carefully undid the bandages, I didn’t cry or freak out in any way. I was honestly surprised about how calm I was. I peeled away the last bandage and stepped back to look at my wife. She was stunning. That’s the only word I can use to describe how she looked: stunning. There she was, my beautiful Aly, with a completely flat chest and two scars. I told her how beautiful she was, kissed those two perfect scars, and turned her to face the mirror with me at her side. With all the horrors we’d been through, this was one of the most beautiful moments of our lives. I couldn’t imagine loving her more than I did in that moment.
CHAPTER 4
BROKEN AND HEALED
—ALY—
I spent the week after my mastectomy recovering at home. Those first few days were harder than I’d expected they would be. The hot flashes were driving me crazy, and the nausea was out of control. That was the sickest I’d ever felt. Add to that the emotional impact of losing my breasts, worrying about what Josh would think of me when he saw my new body, and the uncertainty of whether the surgery removed all the cancer, and let’s just say it wasn’t the best week for me.
Josh was amazing, though. He was right there with me through all of it, doing whatever he could to make me comfortable. And of course I will never forget the moment he took off my bandages. I knew Josh loved me, and we’d been through a lot together. But that experience took things to a whole other level. I had never felt more loved than I did right then.
My follow-up appointment was scheduled for one week post-op, on April 30. That was a huge appointment. That’s when the doctors would tell us if the chemotherapy had been successful. After they removed all of my breast tissue and lymph nodes, they would biopsy it all to see if the chemotherapy had killed the cancer cells. Many people have surgery first and then chemotherapy, but my process was the opposite. Most may never know if the chemotherapy really did its job because they have the cancer removed in surgery and then do chemotherapy. Since I was doing chemotherapy first, I was about to have tangible evidence of whether the cancer was shrinking in response to the treatment.
I spent that week praying and believing that God had healed me. I forced every speck of doubt out of my mind and fully trusted in God’s healing power. I was excited for my upcoming doctor’s appointment because I knew—I just knew—that my cancer nightmare was coming to a close. As Josh and I talked about the future, though, I realized he and I weren’t totally on the same page.
As I talked about getting an “all clear” report from the doctor, Josh kept dropping in what-if comments. What if I wasn’t completely cancer-free? What if I needed more treatments? He talked about where we could stay in Houston for an extended period of time if we needed to. He wondered what he could do about his job if we had to keep driving back and forth to Houston. None of this was bad in and of itself. I get that, as my husband, he was focused on taking care of me and supporting our family no matter what came our way. He’d been an incredible partner throughout this whole journey; I couldn’t imagine going through everything that had happened without him at my side. However, every what-if he mentioned felt like bamboo under my fingernails (well, that’s how it would have felt if I still had fingernails back then). As we looked toward my April 30 appointment, I realized I had to reset some expectations.
“Josh, I need you to believe. I need you to stop making backup plans and simply believe with me that I’m healed of this cancer.” He was startled—probably because I was visibly irritated with him and my tone confirmed it.
We’ve had hundreds of important conversations throughout our relationship. Sometimes we both get super engaged and argue back and forth. Sometimes one of us will drop a truth bomb and the other one will immediately get it and apologize or agree. I was prepared for either of those scenarios, but this was something different. Josh just sat there silently. I could tell he was really thinking about what I’d said. Neither of us said much else the rest of the night. We simply held hands in bed and drifted off to sleep. I prayed for him intensely in that silence. I needed him to believe—I needed us both to believe—that I was healed.
The next morning I could tell a change had happened in Josh. I believe the Holy Spirit was at work in him, settling his fears and bringing us together in full faith. From that point on, Josh started talking about April 30 as a good day, a day of celebration. He commented on how wonderful it would be to get the good news from the doctor that my cancer was gone. He didn’t say a word about any backup plans. I was amazed at how much his renewed faith strengthened my own.
God taught us both a powerful lesson that night. If someone is doing or saying things that weaken your faith—even if it’s a spouse, friend, or mentor—be courageous enough to tell them to set aside their doubts and believe with you. Jesus calls us to be bold in our belief, reminding us, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it” (John 14:13–14). It’s hard to maintain that level of faith when the people closest to us are dragging us down, so be careful in your relationships. Ask the people you love to join you in believing, and if there are others around who just won’t stop speaking negativity into your life, tell them to stop. You might even need to walk away from some relationships for a while. That’s okay! Be kind, but be faithful to the belief God has put in your heart.
FAITH MANIFESTED
The day finally arrived. Even though I was believing for a clear report from the doctor, I couldn’t help but think back to a conversation we’d had with the oncologist before my mastectomy. As much as we tried to avoid hearing statistics throughout my treatment, one would occasionally slip past our defenses. That had been one of those times. She wanted to be sure we understood that my chances of being cancer-free after the mastectomy were less than 20 percent.
Dang! That’s exactly the type of stat we tried to avoid. But throughout the surgery and the week after, that number kept popping into my head. Yes, I believed I was cancer-free, but occasionally I’d hear an inner voice of doubt say, But there’s an 80 percent chance you’re not. Man, statistics are terrible.
So as we walked into the oncologist’s office on April 30, 2012, the words “less than 20 percent” kept screaming in my head. Then I’d heard a little whisper in my spirit that said, “By My stripes you are healed,” echoing Isaiah 53:5 (NKJV). Isn’t it funny that the negative voices seem so much louder than the others? It takes faith and conscious effort to push those voices aside so we can focus on the still, small voice of the Spirit. If we have accepted Christ into our hearts, we can trust that we have His Spirit within us—even when fear and doubt try to drown out His voice.
Josh and I sat nervously waiting in the doctor’s office. Hey, faith doesn’t mean the nerves don’t get the best of us every now and then, right? When th
e doctor finally walked in, a second doctor trailed in behind her. In my experience, seeing two doctors when you expected one had never meant good news. I squeezed Josh’s hand and took a breath.
The doctor said, “Hey, guys, this is Dr. Somethingorother.” Yeah, I forgot his name as soon as she said it. She continued, “I always like to have another doctor with me when I deliver good news.”
“It’s… it’s good news?” we asked. Was this really about to happen?
“No, it’s not good news; it’s perfect news!” She continued, “This almost never happens so soon after a mastectomy, but I can tell you that you are completely cancer-free!” She explained that the lymph nodes still looked cancerous on the ultrasound, but all the breast tissue and lymph nodes came back totally clear with no evidence of disease anywhere.
Cue the sobbing! And shouting! And praise dancing! Seriously, praise dancing. The oncologist told us the other doctor she brought in was the pharmacist who prescribed my chemotherapy regimen, and they both agreed that I needed no further treatment except to complete my radiation as planned. I was cancer-free. CANCER-FREE! After spending days and weeks and months being poked and prodded nonstop by a million different doctors, the oncologist told me she didn’t need to see me again for three months. And just like that, I was kicked out of cancer treatment—because I didn’t have cancer anymore! Josh and I fell into each other’s arms sobbing and praising God for healing me. We walked out of that office on cloud nine. It was the first truly good day we’d had since the whole ordeal began, and we wanted to feel every ounce of joy we could squeeze out of the experience.