Even When

I woke up that morning, and something felt off. I hadn’t felt right in a while, but on this day, February 17th, something was definitely not right. I did my normal morning routine. I made the coffee. I played with the pugs. I took a shower and got dressed. I felt winded. As I sat down on the edge of the bed, I told Mike, “Something is not right,” and I headed off to the church for a day of meetings. The show must go on!

Around 1 p.m., I ran to the post office. The line was backed up to the door. As I opened the door to step inside, I felt a chill. I realized I had been getting chills all day. I thought about turning around and leaving, but if I did, I would just have to come back later and do this all over again. I stayed.

About 20 minutes later, I made it halfway to the counter. As I stood there shifting the stack of books from one side to another, my Apple Watch began vibrating. I looked down to see a notification that I had never seen before. My watch was alerting me to the fact that my heart rate was climbing. First it was 135 bpm. Then it rose to 140, 145, and 147. What did I do? I stayed in line, fearful of losing my place. I mean, surely this was a fluke. Was this in response to my blood pressure? Recently, I had an increase in my blood pressure medication. Nevertheless, I finished at the post office and proceeded to head back to the office, telling myself I would go to urgent care later. You know, AFTER I got things done. I wrapped up my day and headed to the ER. The whole way there, I was trying to talk myself out of it.

The ER is not a fun place to be. I’ve been there before. People are cranky and rightfully so. Many are in pain and experiencing anxiety. The waiting can be the hardest part, but on this day, probably because of my symptoms, I was taken in fairly quickly. Upon my name being called, I was ushered into the triage room, where I encountered a student nurse. When I say student, I mean this person looked straight out of high school. I didn’t have a problem with this (don’t come at me). What I did have a problem with was the fact that this student nurse blew my veins out twice, and no one bothered to offer him help. After the IV was started, they hooked me up to the EKG monitor and quickly assessed that my heart was, in their words, “dancing.”

The ER doctor asked me a series of questions, which included inquiries about my blood pressure, palpitations, and whether I had ever seen a cardiologist. I had not seen a cardiologist, even though I had recently had a stress test done and all was good. She immediately ordered a CT scan with contrast. I was taken back and put in the machine.

Twenty minutes later, my life changed.

I was called into a room. In the past, this is where they handed you your discharge paperwork and ushered you out quicker than they ushered you in. Not this time. I knew in my gut something wasn’t right.

The nurse stayed by my side, and the doctor sat on a stool. She held a stack of papers in her hand. She said, in a tone that was so matter-of-fact, “You have a 3.9 cm x 2.9 cm mass on your right lung that has been flagged for potential malignancy.”

Tears hit my cheeks before my mind could wrap around the words she had just said. She followed up with more words. Words that I couldn’t catch quick enough for them to register. She stopped speaking. I asked her if I should be scared. Were my tears warranted?

She said these words: “Go home. Cry it out. Eat some cheese, drink some wine, and then tomorrow call your hematologist/oncologist to get the ball rolling.”

Now, two things. First, I am a recovering alcoholic. There would be no wine. And second, I had suffered with anemia and low ferritin for years, so I knew who to call. But cancer? I was not prepared for this.

Things moved so quickly. I had three appointments with different doctors and specialists in the coming days. I prayed for guidance and wisdom. I prayed for my future, my husband’s future, and my children’s future. I was in a fog. I didn’t know what we were dealing with.

I had to tell my family. It was suggested that I tell two trusted people from each church I serve in order to be supported.

I was scared. Not just of a cancer diagnosis, but of all I was in the midst of working on. Would this be the plan the enemy finally used to stop me?

In the middle of all of this medical stuff sat my dream. A dream led by the Holy Spirit. A dream to open a women’s shelter where women in our community would find hope and healing from homelessness, addiction, and trauma. A place where women could and can find safety. A place I would have run to back in the day, when I failed at life more times than I can count.

Our team had already overcome so much in the way of this project: the NIMBYs (“not in my backyard” folks), the City Council fights over zoning, and recently, the theft of donated funds by a former employee. It finally looked like things were turning around, and now this.

So, I kept it a secret for almost a month. It was on a need-to-know basis. I fought my way through insurance, referrals, and research on hospitals. Turns out one of the top cancer institutes sits right in our backyard: The University of Florida. My doctors have been amazing. My Navigator has been priceless. I have been able to focus on the things that matter most to me.

After a year of stalled progress at Compassion UMC, renovations finally began last month. It’s pretty amazing to watch a building that once housed Sunday school classrooms be transformed into housing for 12 women. The walls are framed, and water lines have been put in. I walk through there some days and pray over each room.

I don’t know who will sleep there, but I know who will be with them.

The same God who has always been there. The same God who has gone before us and stands beside us. The same God who has shown up for me every hour of every day.

God doesn’t create a blueprint for our lives that includes pain, disease, abuse, trauma, or addiction. God’s blueprint for our lives is not static, either. It’s more about a design for living. It’s about living in relationship with God even when.

The “even when” moments have come, and I can safely say there will probably always be “even whens.”

My hope is that Compassion will be a place where women leave equipped with not only a new blueprint for life, but a relationship with the Architect, even when.