One step out of a thousand
- Miryam Van Horn
- Mar 29
- 4 min read
The journey I was about to embark on was like standing at the base of a mountain and searching for a view of the peak. You can't wrap your mind around the enormity of what's ahead. It's thousands of steps: some easy, some difficult and some even more painful. When it was time to address the cancer hidden under breast tissue, I was grateful to have my husband, friends and family by my side. Their encouragement and strength was all I could ever ask for. Yet before I could even take that first step, God revealed yet another challenge.
When I married my husband, I knew he was destined for great things. I have never been more sure of anything else. It was as if I had a crystal ball and I could see a successful future ahead. I wasn't wrong. In a short amount of years he managed to climb the corporate ladder and was still climbing. Together, we dreamt of a life better than our parents built for us. Ultimately, we dreamt of owning the perfect house, in a perfect community for our beautiful son to grow and thrive. We were there. We had settled into our dream and now it was about to change. I remember the day like it was yesterday, my husband spoke to me about a job opportunity in Florida. I could sense the excitement in his voice. I had always encouraged him, supported him and I knew that one day we would have to move to keep achieving our dreams.
My husband was offered the perfect job at the most inopportune time. Only two weeks after my diagnosis on March 2, he was offered the job and we accepted. Meanwhile, the first doctor's appointment was looming and it created a perfect storm. On March 17, 2023, I met my surgical oncologist, Dr. Rebecca Wiatrek. I'm always impressed at how doctor's manage to explain complex and anxiety-inducing information with a matter-of-fact directness. I couldn't decide if it made me feel comfortable or not.
The options for addressing the cancer were pretty straight forward. I could opt for a lumpectomy in the left breast and follow with radiation. To be clear, a lumpectomy is a procedure in which the tumor is removed from the breast along with healthy tissue surrounding the tumor. The tissue is then tested for any growth of cancer cells. Along with the tumor, a collection of lymph nodes are also taken in order to examine and test for spread of the cancer.
Even more invasive was the third choice - a full mastectomy to avoid cancer ever forming in the other breast. The choice was mine. I knew from the very first day I was diagnosed that I would opt for a bi-lateral mastectomy. I didn't hesitate and scheduled the procedure straight away - April 12, 2023.
I proceeded my days after my decision with care and normality. I had a son to think about. It was an enormous amount of change for him and I needed to keep things as normal as possible without drama and tension. It required me to maintain a focus on the present. I didn't have the luxury of worrying and stressing about a cross-county move, even though my heart was breaking. We had to place our dream home on the market and it was crushing me. Moving away from friends and family was also breaking my heart. I had never lived in another state and the thought of leaving family and friends during such a painful time in my life seemed so daunting. Nevertheless, I had to focus on getting passed the first surgery which was to remove my left breast. Even writing it now, seems unbelievable. In any case, I had to focus on eating 70-80 ounces of protein daily. That's not a typo. In order for the body to heal properly, and to avoid a longer recovery, 70-80 ounces of protein was on my menu everyday.
Surgery day was upon me and as I waited, I began to get nervous. What if something happened during surgery? What if I didn't come out of it? My husband was there and the silence of waiting for the hour to wheel me off was deafening. Nurses kept coming in and checking on me for the surgeon. However, there was one procedure I wasn't prepared for. You see, before my breast could be removed, a biopsy procedure for the removal of lymph nodes called sentinel node biopsy. The lymph nodes must be removed in order to detect if the cancer could have spread to other areas of the body. This procedure was very, very painful and I wound up in tears.
Well, it was time. The nerves were really taking over now and I had been keeping everyone posted on social media. As the hour approached, I asked for prayer. I began to give my husband instructions, "Tell Benjamin I love him", "Remember to keep my parents informed throughout the surgery." And as I slowly began to cry, something inside began to feel warm and tingly, almost as if something was expanding within me. Prayer is mostly certainly powerful.
As the nurse wheeled me into the operating room, I saw my doctor standing before the surgery doors cheering me on , "You're going to do great!! It was exactly what I needed. In what seemed like a quick disco nap, I began to open my eyes as I heard my name called out by a nurse., "Mi-ry-am" to which I drowsly responded, "I want a Whataburger."
On the following blog of this series, I will continue the journey of breast cancer and the emotional toll of healing, losing a breast and preparing to leave Texas. Stay tuned for part 4
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