Having NO hair has it's advantages--nothing to blow dry, no eyebrows to pluck or mascara my lashes! I get lots of attention from little kids who stare and ask me what happened and why I wear that scarf all the time. But there is nothing fun about breast cancer. It hurts, it makes you sick, it's disfiguring, it's scary and it can kill you.
Cancer is an ugly word, especially when a voice on the phone is telling you that you have it! I discovered a lump in October but it was February before I had it checked out. Stupid, I know. I kept telling myself it would go away. We didn't have insurance so I reasoned that it was O.K. to pretend it wasn't there. My mother died of breast cancer when she was 47. Now I was 45. The pain of watching her suffer was forever seared into my memory. I didn't want my family to have to watch me waste away like that. I mumbled something to the doctor and we agreed to meet in two days to discuss surgery options.
Strange how our perspective on what's important can change in an instant. I looked at my calendar for February. Every day had something penciled in. March was filling fast: classes to teach, counseling to do, volunteering... All would have to wait. Cancer had just filled my date book for the next eight months.
A week later I had both breasts removed. Three weeks after that I began chemotherapy. Through it all, I was remarkably calm. Christ was my constant companion, loving me through people. There was a never ending stream of phone calls, cards, meals, flowers, rides to appointments, and hugs. I felt truly blessed! But no amount of attention could prepare me for the black doubts that were beginning to assail me every morning after my shower.
I have never been beautiful. I try to accent the positive, as they say. But after six months of chemo, there was no positive to accent! My full figure had been reduced to two craters. The doctors didn't want to perform reconstructive surgery until I had been cancer free for a year. I saw my blank face every morning when I brushed my teeth. No hair. no eyebrows, no lashes! My small features were swallowed up in a sea of fair skin. Depression over my appearance and constant illness crept into every thought. I began to doubt my husband's love.
How could this wonderful man still love me? I had nothing to offer him. I had done nothing but sit on the couch for six months and had no interest in making love. (Not that he would want to get close to me anyway.) These thoughts were coming in a constant barrage. Day after day my self esteem dropped.
One night while at a restaurant I blurted it out! "I think you can't love me anymore!" My lower lip began to tremble and my eyes welled with tears. "I never thought my self esteem had anything to do with how I look, but I guess it does." I stared into my drink to avoid looking at him. I was afraid I'd see the horrible truth in his powder blue eyes. "You can't love me because I look so ugly. I can't contribute to the family. I can't even cook or clean. You have to do it all. I'm of no value to anyone right now."
As soon as I said those words I realized how shallow they sounded, and yet, that's how I felt. Cancer had done a real job on me and I felt Satan was very present. For 15 years, I had preached, assured, and nagged depressed women about God's love no matter the circumstances. "Fat, poor, uneducated, abused, strong willed, shy, disabled, or near perfect, God loves us and needs us," I said.
What a great example I was! My "pillar of faith" had some holes in the foundation! The cornerstone was made of self-- myself, my ability to get through anything, my self-control, self-reliance and self- image. Everything I admired about myself had been striped away. My biggest loss was my title of "Super Christian."
As tears splashed onto my fried shrimp, my dear husband spoke of his love. It had nothing to do with how cute I was or how much housework I could accomplish. His love had to do with how God had brought us together and molded us into one. It had to do with me as a human being created by God. As I listened, I realized that if things were reversed, if he had been physically changed by disease and unable to do all the things he does, I wouldn't love him any less. I would cherish every moment with him. How could I accuse him of being less devoted to me than I was to him?
Now I know God is most concerned with my spiritual health. Am I growing, learning, and maturing spiritually? My physical appearance is of little importance to God. Cancer may injure my body and someday kill it, but it can never destroy me. In God's heart, I am complete and whole.
Shannon Miller been a lay counselor for 20 years. Shannon is also mother of two and regular speaker on a variety of subjects pertaining to Christian women. She has been cancer free for 2 years.