So, it has been written.

The consent was signed and processed and I was put on the surgery schedule.  I really have to hand it to Spectrum Health, they don't mess around.  In a matter of one day since my diagnosis, I had an assembled team, ready to arm me with information, options and more education about this disease than I cared for at the time. I was bombarded with phone calls from all members of my care team starting that very day. I had a nurse navigator (Tracy), a breast cancer surgeon (Dr. Paulson), a care coordinator from the Cancer & Hematology Centers of Western MI (Tammy) along with my oncologist (Dr. Reddy), a psychiatrist in case I have a mental breakdown (which I was sure I was having at the time), a social worker to help me talk to my kids about this, and even a genetics counselor (Mary). I mean, this was within a day of me finding out that I had cancer and this was all too much to handle. Although in retrospect, I am extremely grateful for the holistic care they provided from mental health to physical disease, I do remember getting frustrated as everyone seemed to say the same cliché statement "help you though your journey...as you go through this health journey...I am here to guide you down your journey." Journey, journey, journey...I finally yelled (yes, I lost my temper a little bit) when the final person told me that stupid statement "where the hell am I going on this 'so called' journey? Huh? Where do I end up? When does this 'journey' start and where does it go? It is warm there? Because I would prefer some tropical weather right about now!" I was met with silence on the other end of the line and I appropriately responded with tears. I just didn't understand what was going on. She was telling me about my oncologist and I blankly asked, " Who needs an oncologist? Am I the one that needs an oncologist?" She quietly confirmed that yes, I was indeed the one that needed a cancer specialist. This is what shock and disbelief does to a person. You mindlessly go thru the actions, not realizing all of it pertains to you. It's such a weird, yet beautiful thing your mind will do to protect you from your overwhelming reality. I imagine to soften this devastating blow so you can process this on your own timeline.  I mean, the call was on a Monday, I am having all these conversations with team members on Monday & Tuesday, and then meeting my breast surgeon on a Wednesday, thus; signing away my beloved breasts. I wasn't even processing why I needed all these people. But here I was, trying to comprehend the weight of their recommendations and sitting there going through the motions. It was just too much, but I had to accept what was happening in the moment all while trying to be so grateful that they were moving as quickly as they were.

In reflection, I am very grateful that it all happened quickly. And even more thankful that I had insurance that allowed me to move just as quickly. Sitting there with cancer in your body is a weird and icky feeling to have and I didn't want to wait too long to get it out of there. But at the  same time, I was just trying to survive and was feeling very annoyed that all these medical people were bothering me. I just wanted to be left alone, to cry for 10 mins because that's all the time I had before kids were present, or another phone call or something else where I had to pretend to be normal.

So, all the appointments have been set up. My calendar was booked with every appt you can imagine from blood draws, meeting the medical team, filling out paperwork to see what and if cancers run in my family and if I carry the gene; which could potentially cause concern for my sister, mother and children. I missed a week of work in order to fit all these appts in and my poor husband also had to leave his employer short when he accompanied me to these appts. Thank goodness we both work for companies and departments that understand the importance of my health and gave us all the leniency we needed to get through this.

But then...as sudden as it all happened, it all stopped. Nothing. No more phone calls, no one bothering me about this and that. I was left to just....WAIT and THINK. Ideally, the doctors strive for a patient to have surgery within 30 days from diagnosis. That is their goal. However, with COVID last year, many women did not go in to get their mammograms. So this year, especially this early in the year, the office was bombarded with appts and women needing mammograms. And unfortunately, nearly half of those women were needing some type of intervention, too. So I had to wait 6 weeks for surgery because they were so booked out. They reassured me that was still within guidelines, but that was a tough pill to swallow when all you want to do is get this cancer out of your body.

Nothing happened after all those appts and I was left there to just...well, LIVE. Go back to being a wife, mother, and nurse and try to process my entire reality. That was hard because it was in the back of my mind ALL THE TIME. Have you ever been a prisoner in your own mind? It isn't fun. It's almost like torture because you can't get away from it, you can't turn if off.  When I was trying to be present with my children or phone conversations, it really swallowed my every thought. However, going back to work was the best thing for me. It distracted me to something positive, or else I would have obsessed over the fear of cancer. I was met with hugs, tears, and a tremendous amount of support from doctors, nurses, techs... the whole department really. I mean, it was unreal. They are truly my second family and they treated me as such. It was amazing and just the strength I needed to get through the weeks to come before my surgery. And I needed to reassure my coworkers, all family members (truthfully) that I am alright and I will get through this thing. I might have doubted myself at the time, but the more I said it out loud, the more I could believe that it was possible to survive this ugly thing. And with all these beautiful interactions with them, and others who had found out, little did I know THAT was God helping me assemble my support team. My army. He must have known that I would come to rely on them more than I knew at the time because it would help me fight. These soldiers were coming from all directions, willing and wanting to be a part of Stacie's Army. It was the love we shared that they showed up to walk with me, through fear and uncertainty. IT was absolutely beautiful and amazing. It was His Holy Spirit at work, through all of these incredible people. I didn't know how much I would come to rely on their support, wonderful meals, their texts of encouragement, their hugs and their smiles.  At the time, I didn't think about how gigantic this foe was  really going to be. 

Because at that time, I was still skeptical that I even had cancer. 

I'm young, strong, energetic. I look too healthy to have cancer. I feel absolutely fine. I'm just fine, guys.