When our bodies betray our hidden emotions

Walking into the office of the breast surgeon today was vastly different than when I did this walk back in Nebraska five months ago. While I’m on the other side of cancer now, my body reminded me of feelings I’d tried to forget. A different surgeon, a different state, but the sights, the sounds, the smells…they all felt so….well, familiar. Today was merely to establish care for routine scans going forward. Yet, my body quickly began revealing tucked away emotions.

Opening the lobby door, I glanced around the room. A man sitting alone, worry covering his face. He was waiting on his daughter. My heart sunk. I know this feeling.

The nurse calls me back. She runs through my history. I don’t want to recall it. I mentally retrace our steps from detection to scans to biopsies to surgery to a move to radiation. To today.

The PA was a lovely woman, kind and thoughtful. She began her exam. I apologized for sweaty armpits. So embarrassing. The body responds from the well of feelings. I asked all the questions. She offered all the answers. Then she said what countless nurses and doctors have said to me on repeat.

“You never want to have any kind of cancer, but if you have to have cancer, you had the very best one to have. From non-invasive, non-aggressive, hormone positive, clear margins, clear lymph nodes, oncotype score, you had the very best case scenario you could have possibly had.”

My throat and eyes filled instantly. Where did this emotion come from. 6 months down the road, and I’ve shed all the tears I thought I could shed. Plus, this isn’t a new statement or thought. Yet, here I was in a place where previously I sat (though in a different state) and resisting fear of the unknown while grasping for the love and peace of Christ. My mind went back to the miracles.

The PA repeated something other medical staff had told me - a mammogram likely would not have detected my size tumor given the density of my breast tissue. The fact that I felt it, is a miracle of God. I’ve written many times of the miracles of the journey, so I won’t rewrite them here, but recalling it all over again brought this spring of emotion bubbling up.

I left the office with tears burning, begging to escape. The moment I closed my car door, I freed the tears to flow.

I cried to my Savior, my Comforter, my Protector, my Friend. Jesus healed me. He carried me every single step of the way. Not one single second was I alone, even when I felt otherwise.

The gratitude overwhelmed me. I immediately thought of the story where Jesus healed 10 and only one came back to say thank you. So, I thanked Him again.

¹¹ On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. ¹² And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers,^[a] who stood at a distance ¹³ and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” ¹⁴ When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed. ¹⁵ Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice;¹⁶ and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. ¹⁷ Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? ¹⁸ Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” ¹⁹ And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.” Luke 17:11-19

I always want to be among the one rather than the 9.

“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart;
    I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.
I will be glad and exult in you;
    I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.” Psalm 9:1-2

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