'The Forgotten Year' Part I

      It was the year 2005; my daughters were nearly 2 and 3 and a half.  I went for my routine mammogram and knew there was something different about me.  So the physician went on to explain I had a lump and that it would be wise to have it biopsied.  He recommended a specialist at the same hospital and so I went ahead with the procedure.  Less than two weeks later I received a telephone call that would provoke the early stages of  my resurrection--an event--presently a flash bulb memory of-- sorrow, fear, and frustration.....
      My husband had to run across the street to retrieve me from a neighbors home.  No soon after I picked up the phone to hear my doctor say, "Mrs Thourot, I am so sorry to tell you that you have  ductal carcinoma! My husband expropriated the phone after I whispered the words "ductal carcinoma" to him.  His reaction, "This means your going to do a lumpectomy, right?"  and then the doctor stated "we highly recommend a bilateral mastectomy simultaneous to plastic surgery, this way we are more certain to minimize the likelihood of it returning."  "What???!!!"
     I had 30 days to choose which path I'd take.  I spoke to women over the phone I'd never met in my life and they all had a story to tell....... I'd witnessed bravery first hand...  Courage I couldn't even begin to fathom.  And, yes, I listened intently to each and every story (word for word) that was told to me!


       This event began a cycle of turmoil for me as well.  I fought with my relatives because they insisted I would need to go to Philadelphia or New York in order to receive the best care.  My home became a funeral parlor in that everyone else felt this was the most tragic thing that could ever happen to me.  A new family, the one I waited for all my life, and now, in an instant, could all be taken away from me?  


        I am sure everyone had their own agenda, their reasons for my despair, mostly all were deeply sorrowed by my despair in one way or another...  I could hear the echoes of their thoughts pervade the room; "the children,"  "my brother", "my daughter"  ....  I would imagine..... 


        Remember the THREE QUESTION rule I've spoken to you about?  You know, ask three people the same question and then compare notes.... well, it was time!  So me, my husband, and my oldest brother went to a hospital in Hackensack to see a doctor (Dr. Davies I believe) that was recommended to me by a woman I met over the phone.  We heard great things about this man.  His opinion was that I needed to pursue more tests because the biopsy results were inconclusive.  Then he gave us the name of his counterpart who practiced at the same hospital..  We simply had to walk to another building...

       The SECOND physician I saw was a wise and noble man as well. A bit more extreme then Dr. Davies, but he was the PILL I NEEDED at thE time.  He sat us down, looked at my report, looked at me and asked, "what did he tell you to do?"  and so I told him.... He replied, "no way! that's absurd!"  So, you see, the answer to my PRAYERS were beginning to take hold!  I cannot tell you the wave of relief that streamed through my veins!  


      The THIRD doctor would be the FINAL one!  He was exactly what my brother, the middle one if you recall, whose words would now echo in my head.....  "The right doctor will know what to say, and HOW to say it."  "He will be the one to put your mind at ease."

Old Testament: "But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds," declares the LORD. Jeremiah 30:17 
To be continued....