…is the day the nightmare began two years ago. The day I picked up the phone to hear, “Can you be at the doctor’s office at 12:45? He’d like to see you to discuss your biopsy results.” The day I looked at my doctor and knew what would come out of his mouth before I heard, “I wish there was a better way to tell you…” The day I found out I had breast cancer.
The day monsters became real.
August 10th is the day I clung to my Brian because I didn’t know if I could walk out on my own. The day I, who usually shy away from the center of attention, stood in the middle of a parking lot and wept not caring how many people passed by. The day I had to tell my mom over the phone that her baby had cancer and then head to another appointment.
August 10th is the day I listened to my surgeon give me all my options but heard nothing. The day we left the surgeon’s office together to find Guest Blogger Joe sitting on our car waiting to be with us. The day we stood in that parking lot and helped someone we didn’t know who had car problems. The day numbness became a way of life.
August 10th is the day of phone calls to friends and family, frantic and frenetic. The day of trying to shield a 5, 3, and 1 year old from a topsy-turvy world knowing it would all eventually crash in on them. The day of nausea and horror and fear that washed over in waves indescribable.
August 10th is the day I began sleeping with my Bible. The day of nightmares. The day of questions and confusion. The day this part of our journey began.
August 10th is the day I began to see God on a whole new level. The day my walk with Him changed, intensified. The day worship became real as I sang truth with my husband that night before bed. The day I learned not to take anything for granted and to live every moment.
August 10th is the day I will never forget.
But as crazy as it seems…
August 10th is a day for which I am truly grateful.