Most people start their breast cancer stories with the day they are diagnosed. I am starting mine from the day before because I was feeling great that day, I was already a breast cancer survivor, so what could go wrong?
Twenty-four hours later everything changed. My faith was tested once again. I was told I had cancer for the second time. I was told that I needed chemo, I was told that I was going to need a mastectomy and I was told that I was going to loose my hair. My faith was now in the hands of doctors, in the chemicals that were about to kill me (to keep me alive) and the wisdom to know that everything was going to be alright.
Not only did I now have cancer, but I was also jobless. Really, how much more can one person’s faith be tested? After crying for about two days, I decided I needed to do something. I needed people, family, friends, and organizations to give me faith. I did not have it right now. It was hard to even see the small signs of faith. My bones ached, I was so tired I couldn’t even walk down the block, and I was an emotional wreck every time I lost more hair. Every day was a struggle, and when I started feeling better, it was time for chemo again.