Providential Predicament #2

The most effective guide for abundant living

It seems just as our lives get comfortable, something happens to shake things up a bit.

From my dad’s 2013 kidney cancer diagnosis (the cancer was contained to one kidney), to me losing my job in mid-2014, to losing my grandmother and having a cancer scare of my own one year later – the past few years have dealt a few blows to me and my family. Not to mention ongoing infertility issues.

Through each of these moments, the Lord has brought me closer to Him. I feel led to share my reflections over the past few years with hopes you too will be encouraged in whatever tribulations you’re facing at the moment.

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Last year at this time I was dreadfully awaiting a doctor's appointment with one of the leading oncologists in the nation. And by "leading," I mean you don't get referred to this guy unless there is a serious suspicion of the "c" word.

My gynecologist referred me due to a fallopian tube abnormality that she had discovered in an ultrasound of my ovaries -- an ultrasound not prompted by an annual routine checkup, but rather symptoms I had been experiencing over the past year that seemed to only be getting more frequent and intense. Some of the symptoms included extreme bloating, fatigue and hot flashes.

My mind raced as I pondered the possibility of a cancer diagnosis. Never one to endure pain well, I wondered how the side effects of chemotherapy would affect me both emotionally and physically. Would I be a burden to my husband and son? What would I look like without hair? Would my husband still find me attractive? I even googled wigs. As vain as all of this sounds -- these flesh-driven fears are real when dealing with something of this nature.

Then the worst thought of all crept in: what if I die? What if this is my last Christmas?

I know it sounds as if I had already written myself a death warrant, but these fears didn't come without merit. I understood the seriousness of fallopian tube cancer, which is similar to ovarian cancer in that by the time symptoms appear and/or a mass detected, the cancer is already at an advanced stage. I also understood that women diagnosed with this type of cancer have low survival rates, despite modern treatments and advanced medicine.

Additionally, I knew something wasn't right with my body. I did not feel well.

A month prior . . .

I had left my job at a credit union and was willfully unemployed. In my  "Providential Predicament #1" commentary, I explained that I received the "hesitant blessing" of my husband to pursue a new path or, at the honorable risk of sounding hyper-religious, the Lord's path. Here's what I wrote in the article:

I felt the Lord leading me in a new direction. Although I have less than an inkling as to what this looks like -- I have learned more about myself in these four months than I knew the entire 37 years of my life.

Since I was not working I had time. Lots of it. So I decided to schedule a doctor's appointment to address these symptoms that had been tormenting me for the past year. I actually demanded (in a nice way) an ultrasound, if not for anything more than peace of mind. My doctor complied and I was scheduled for an ultrasound in late November, two weeks after I quit my job.

Now before I go on I want to briefly explain why I did not address these health issues sooner.

In August 2007, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), a condition that occurs when an imbalance of hormone levels in a woman's body causes cysts to form in the ovaries. This condition causes abnormal periods and infrequent ovulation, leading to infertility (which is what lead to the PCOS diagnosis in the first place) as well as all of the symptoms that I mentioned earlier.

I had even mentioned the increased presence of these symptoms to my doctor at an annual checkup the previous year. She told me it was a PCOS flare-up, which could be suppressed by a better diet and more exercise (both of which I was already engaging). So again, I wrote the symptoms off as, "this is something I just have to learn to live with," and moved on with my life.

Timing

As the medical sonographer conducted the ultrasound, taking routine measurements of my ovaries as well as the cysts that inhabited them, I couldn't help but judge the technician's facial expressions to what she was seeing on the screen in front of her.

All seemed pretty normal until she came across one "cyst" that she measured repeatedly to ensure she was getting the measurements right. Then she said to me, "Now I can see why you're so uncomfortable" and rattled off measurements of the so-called cyst, which didn't phase me much since she was dealing in centimeters. The technician immediately printed off the sonogram pictures and left the room.

When the door opened, to my surprise it was not the sonographer returning to tell me to get dressed. It was my doctor, who I knew was out of the office that day to deliver babies. She had stopped by the office to take care of a few things before returning to the delivery rooms of Missouri Baptist Hospital, when she was approached by the ultrasound tech to take a look at the pictures.

Though she tried to assure me everything was fine, I could tell by the look on her face and tone of her voice that my doctor was genuinely concerned. She said she wanted to take a closer look at the slides and would give me a call the next day to discuss her findings and how we should move forward.

The words, "how we should move forward," suggested she had serious concerns and that there was going to be a future procedure.

The call

The call from my doctor came mid-morning. She had concluded that the problem was not an oversized cyst but rather a fluid-filled fallopian tube that, according to the pictures, had to be removed soon or it could burst, releasing dangerous toxins into my system that would inhibit me from ever getting pregnant again.

This wasn't her only concern, however. She thought it could be cancer and wanted to rule out this possibility before scheduling a surgery, thus referring me to arguably the most well respected oncologist in St. Louis.

So on Christmas Eve of last year, my husband and I went to the oncologist for an exam while my mother-in-law, who was in town for Christmas, watched our son.

That morning, I remember being filled with anxiety and fear of the unknown. I didn't show it to my loved ones -- but inside I felt as if I might explode. Then just as quickly as the anxiety welled, a competing, calming voice would come over me, reassuring me that despite the outcome of the diagnosis, I still have work to do and will be used for His glory.

At that moment I knew God was using this predicament in my life, whether I had cancer or not, to not only grow me spiritually but to reach others for His namesake.

All of the sudden I wasn't scared of losing my hair, or even death for that matter.

The Results

The prognosis came back quickly. It was negative, but I still had a swollen fallopian tube that needed to be dealt with. The oncologist confirmed that the tube could not be salvaged and needed to be completely removed to avoid rupture.

On January 13, 2016, I had my right fallopian tube removed. While I realize this adds even more hurdles to my already infertile state, I am thankful for this experience and what it taught me about leaning on Jesus during what continues to be a trying time for me and my family -- as we would love to have another baby. I can't express the yearning I feel to give my husband another child and my son a brother or sister.

But . . .

Despite this yearning, the Lord is keeping me busy. If you read  "Providential Predicament #1," you know that I lost my writing job in 2014 and quit a banking job in 2015 due to the Lord's calling. I mentioned in the article that I would like a job in ministry where I could apply my love for children and possibly even my writing skills.

Well, the Lord gave me both.

In June 2016, I joined my son's private Christian school where I serve as administrative assistant to the deans of school and write for the school blog reaching the community for Christ. I also help out as needed with the children's ministry at my church -- having served temporarily as the nursery coordinator and, starting in January, I will help teach the second grade Sunday School class.

In fact, the wonderful lady with whom I will be teaching Sunday School recently asked me to conclude each class with a "Compton's Corner," during which I discuss God's sovereignty with the children and how it relates to the respective lesson. 

That calm, still voice was right. I still have work to do.

God is good.

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." ~Romans 8:28