Victim Number Six, Come on Up

You know what is almost as painful as hearing, “You have breast cancer?” It’s hearing, “I have breast cancer” from a relative.

My cousin, seven years younger than I just got diagnosed with breast cancer. She does not have the pathology report yet but it is two centimeters, not showing from her first mammogram three years ago. Only thirty-four years old, she feels so scared. As an oncology nurse, she still feels scared. Nothing prepared her for this. Nothing prepared me for this.

I remember praying up above last October, “Please God, let me be the last [to get hit by breast cancer]. But here we are again. It has not been a year since I was diagnosed, now my extended family have to endure the bad experience.

I feel her pain. I think about her all the time since I heard the bad news. This counts as the sixth breast cancer in my family. Why?

On  my first night back at work after four nights off, guess what patient I got for assignment?

A patient with stage four breast cancer that metastasized to different organs including the brains and bones.

As soon as I got a report from the outgoing nurse, I felt nauseous. I had to squat in front of the sink a few times…I could not eat for more than twenty-four hours. I feared for my cousin’s and my future.

When the patient’s family visited, I wanted to be not a nurse for that night and join them in mourning. Their loved one is dying. I wanted to cry with them…

Friends,  tell me something positive I need to hear.


Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.
The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Sometimes in our lives we reach rock bottom. We experience what we call HELL. For each of us it’s dressed up differently, but for all of us it is dark, tough and devastating. This HELL can be our awakening. Some people call it a breakdown; I believe it is a breakthrough.
From “The Pocket Guide To Your Heart”

Optimists convert stumbling blocks into stepping stones.
W. Howard Wight, Jr.


6 thoughts on “Victim Number Six, Come on Up

  1. When I thought I was looking at a recurrence this past weekend, I thought: “well, everybody dies. I’m still grateful to have been alive, to have lived; I still have this moment, *here*. I still have the flowers and the stars.”

    It still sucks, it’s still scary and horrible – but you have this moment *here*. Look at it, *see* it, appreciate the beauty we walk in. It is here, now.

    (and I am so sorry)

  2. I hate this so much – for your cousin, for you, for your whole family. I have no answers for why your family is now facing its sixth breast cancer diagnosis – it seems so unfair. We all have different journeys. Some journeys seem harder than others. I read this the other day: God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors. Because of your experience, you will be able to love and support your cousin in a way that some others could not. You know what she is facing and can speak to her heart when she needs encouragement. Keeping you all in my prayers.

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