I am the oldest 24 year old I know. I like to go to bed by 9pm, I don’t like to go out, and my idea of a good time is reading good book and meditating. I am married, own a home, and have a budding business that is my own trade. By 18 I was already up and over most things 30 year olds are still into. I’ve always liked feeling older than I am, I always thought it was great to knock some things out earlier rather than later. However, I never expected that at 24 years old, I’d hear the words. “I am sorry, but your tumor looks like cancer.”
It all started with my knowledge of my body. I ran my hand over my breast, and felt a distinct, hard rock. My immediate reaction was to panic, but then I checked in. I’m a psychic, I can scan my own body, right? Wrong. I called my mom and asked for her advice. Both my dad and my mom said, go get it checked out. I had a horrible pit in the bottom of my stomach, so naturally I avoided making that appointment for as long as possible. Finally, after about a month, I called and made the appointment. There’s very few times that I’d ever been that nervous, and this time I couldn’t even explain why.
The day of my appointment I could have sworn it was divine intervention telling me that everything was going to be fine. I was getting angel numbers from every direction that gave me a calmness every little hello from heaven. I pulled up to building, parked my car, and I said a prayer. “God, I’m pretty scared. I don’t know why, but thank you for trying to calm me down.” I walked into the office, sat down in the waiting area, and replayed the scenario I thought would happen in my head. I thought that the doctor would say, “Tell me what’s going on?” “Well, I have a large lump in my breast.” Then I thought she would look at it and say, “Oh, Jenn! You just don’t know your body!” Hah. It’s true. I’m pretty spiritual, so often my connection to my physical body isn’t as on point as I think it should be. When I snapped out of it, I looked over at the beautiful Christmas tree, then glanced at the glowing pregnant woman next to it. “Breathe,” I say, “It’s going to be just fine.”
At this point, it started to feel like a movie. I walked back into the prep room I was in for my surgery to have my IUD removed. The Trans Siberian Orchestra was playing my favorite song that I had heard numerous times that morning. I took a deep breath. The doctor opened the door, and said her hellos, what’s going on, etc. As I lay back, she began her exam. When she got over to my right side, she said, “Oh. This is where you are feeling.” A few breaths of silence passed by, and she said, “You have a tumor. I am able to feel that it isn’t cystic. I will be referring you to a surgeon and a breast specialist, and I suggest you go as soon as possible.” She explained to me that at my age, cancer would be rare, but it has happened before. She told me she wanted to take all the precautions to rule it out. I seriously stopped breathing. I became red, flushed, and felt that insta-nauseas feeling.
I checked out, walked to the car, and managed to hold my dinosaur tears from falling until I called my Mom. At the sound of her voice, I just exploded. “Mom, I have a tumor.” What does that even mean? I’m 24. I haven’t had my baby yet, I’m at the start of my career, I’m just getting everything where I want it to be! So many things went running through my mind, it was a train that I couldn’t stop rolling. Mom calmed me down, and explained why are we going to panic when we don’t even know it it is cancer. He was right, but even the words Tumor and Cancer had only been used in my Spirit dictionary, not in MY life.
A week went by, and it felt like eternity. The next appointment I had scheduled was for the ultrasound. My dad, an Internal Medicine doc, was pretty positive that the ultrasound would clear up the confusion, and give us a diagnosis. I asked my best friend, Alina, to come with me, I was leaning into my dad’s energy that everything was going to be fine. My dad had also told me that a “Tumor” is any thing that grows inside the body, and to not be concerned about the language. I went in there with some laughs, prepared to walk out feeling fabulous, knowing that nothing was wrong. Alina and I were escorted to the patient waiting room. I took off my shirt, and put on a bright pink robe, and they called us back shortly after. I explained everything, and the technician got everything ready. As she began taking the ultrasound, there was painfully loud silence. It’s the kind of silence that you can almost hear the thoughts of every one in the room. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I asked, “Can you tell me anything?” She replied, sternly, “I need to go get the radiologist.” Alina, being the goofball she is, looked at me and said, “it looks like you have lots of black ghosts in your boobs!” Thank god for the laugh.
The radiologist came in, took a look, and explained to me that my ultrasound is extremely “worrisome”. They wanted to keep me for a mammogram, because they do not believe it is a cyst or adenoma. Here come the dinosaur tears. Alina grabbed my hand and said, “We are NOT crying over this yet.” She was right. So I focused on the positive. I thought, I seriously am the oldest 24 year old! I am getting my boobs squashed at 24. Impressive! And at least I will know what it is like.
To be honest, the mammograms weren’t as bad as everyone and their mother said they would be. Sure, it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t excruciatingly painful. After the process was complete, I was walked back to a pitch dark room, and sat in the only chair strategically placed in the middle. The doctor and nurse were in the other room huddled around my X-rays. The doctor came out, she said, “OK. We’d like you to go get biopsied. It looks like something we see a lot, and most of the time it comes back benign, but we can’t be sure.” Well at least I have a chance. I felt pretty OK after that!
Onto the next I thought. The earliest they could see me for the biopsy was Tuesday. So I called my mom, and asked him to take me. They recommended that someone come with you to the procedure. That day, I was surpassingly not nervous at all. I don’t know what most people think, but the way the biopsy process was explained to me was “a needle to the tumor, and removal of fluid or sample”. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so a needle didn’t sound terrible. We walked into the operating room, and sat down. My mom was told to sit next to me and hold my hand. I had a new doc, because we had to go to specialists. She began her exam, just reviewing what the other doctors had done. She began to look at the UltraSound. It didn’t take her very long before she stopped. She looked at me and said, “OK. So I understand your prepared to do a biopsy today? You ultrasound is ugly, if you were 50 years old, I would be telling you you have cancer right now. You do have your age going for you; however, if your sample comes back as anything but cancer – I’m going to have a hard time believing it. This ultrasound looks like cancer.” She went on to explain that she’s honest, and this was a very different conversation from most of her patients. She said she’s more worried about my ultrasound than most other patients that come in. I just looked at my mom and began to shake and cry.
They handed me tissues, and began to prepare me for the biopsy. I just closed my eyes, and prayed. There was so much numbing medicine that was injected into my breast, I was thinking that they were preparing me to cut it off! She began with a scalpel, and made an incision. then she poked around for about 10 minutes. It was extremely painful. I could still feel the sharp pains, which was surprising with the amount of numbing medicine they used. Then she said, “Good thing for you, the mass is movable, Most cancer isn’t moveable. Bad for me, because it’s harder to get the biopsy.” Then she followed it up with, “OK. I’m about to start the vacuum biopsy now.” I had no idea she wasn’t doing the biopsy before! The tug of the machine, sucking up tiny samples of my poor boob was a memorable feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, and I am 100% worried about anyone coming near my breasts now. As everything wrapped up, the doctors left, and I had a minute to just cry in my moms arms. Not only was I convinced by my doctor I had breast cancer, I was also in excruciating pain. Props to anyone who has breast implants, I could never do it.
We left the office, they explained that they’d have the results in 3 days. I just looked at her one last time and said, “Why do you think this happened?” Her reply, “Bad Luck.”
Bad LUCK!?! What? You mean to tell me there is no science behind why a 24 Year old, Organic eater, super active woman, would wind up having breast cancer? Bull.
I spent the next three days thinking about my life. Thinking about how this is the greatest trial ever about practicing what I preach. I am a Medium, I talk to Spirit daily, and yet I was having a complete breakdown, loss in my faith, and a complete struggle to let go of my humanity. I’m NOT done, I just kept thinking. I just started doing what I loved, I’m finally healthy, and happy! I started to go over everything in my life that I would do differently, how I would start to live my life. Which brought me to some tough realizations that I am NOT living my life as fully and fiercely as I want to. I am so concerned about control, and timing, that I wasn’t taking my own advice. I wasn’t going with the flow, allowing myself to be happy, doing things that are against the odds but are in my heart. The list I came up with was kind of unbelievable, because I thought I was “happy” before. I realized there was so much more to that then being “comfortable”. I turned to scripture, my guides, and music to change the tune of my self-defeating thoughts. I kept going over how I’d explain to everyone that I was sick, and what would I do? I vowed before any of this even happened that if I ever became sick, I’d heal myself through holistic care and not turn into the victim. But when push came to shove, I had no idea what I would do. I was in a moment of sheer desperation. This was a huge test for me to see what it was truly like to walk in these shoes. It was a test of my faith in Spirit, Divine Timing, and my entire belief system.
The morning I was supposed to hear from the doctors, I woke up way too early. I had taken a sleeping aid the night before because I couldn’t breath because of my anxiety. I came downstairs, and waited. I tried doing everything I could do to distract myself, I watched movies, I worked, I wrote. I knew that once that doctor called with the results, it would be real. I was so wrapped up in that doctor’s pre-diagnoses that I honestly didn’t see any other outcome. I ended up calling them at 1pm., after waiting all morning. Nothing, they said they’d call me back. I went and sat down in my closet (it’s my happy spot). I went to rummage through an old box, looking for a book of quotes to give me some insight. I had taken out all the heavy books and put them on the self. All of the sudden, the books fell off the shelf, and my yearbook was open to a random page. I looked down at the quote that a favorite teacher of mine had left. It said, “You don’t need eyes to see, you need vision.” I just started to cry. Boy was this right. Here in the physical world, I couldn’t see the reason for all this. But in Spirit I’m sure they had a purpose. I sat there for about 30 minutes thinking about that realization, and then my phone rang.
BIG Breaths, You just need vision, just keep breathing! With all the courage I had, I slide my finger to answer. “Hello?”
“Jennifer, this is Michelle, I have your results. Everything came back normal, and the tissue is benign. I know the doctor said she’d have a hard time believing it, but she called and spoke to the Pathologist and Radiologist, and she’s comfortable with the diagnosis. Go have a margarita and celebrate.”
I screamed out for joy when I hung up that phone, then fell to my knees and bawled. The past month was nothing but doctors telling me that this was a giant problem, and in a single moment it was gone. I proceeded to call my family and let everyone know the good news. Sure, I still had to have surgery, but I didn’t have cancer. And I am blessed.
As I sit here with a black and blue, massively swollen breast typing this out (TMI), I realize I didn’t have to go through what most of those strong survivors do. I literally had a brush with this horrible disease, and I only lived in that energy for a month, and it has completely changed my life. My outlook on life is different, I am different. I just realized so much about myself from the way I reacted. But then I realized, we never know when our time is up. So I promised myself to write down the things I learned, and practice them daily. I wanted to share them with you.
Live In the Moment: Genuinely, we never know how many we have left. We prepare our entire lives for retirement, being old, having plenty of money, and we spend a hell of a lot of time planning and controlling what isn’t meant to be controlled. When I started to review all the things I wish I would have done, it was literally the things I’ve been putting off. Like having a child, working FULL-TIME towards my passion of Mediumship, getting the tattoos I’ve been wanting, writing my book, the list goes on. I kept finding excuse after excuse to put off the things I genuinely want to strive for in this life. But I realize I want to live in this moment. If everything was right for the circumstances to manifest what we want, do it. Don’t resist. Live in this moment now, and worry about those crazy things create that keep us comfortable. Life isn’t meant to be comfortable.
Saying Sorry & I Love You: I thought about texting a few people I had some uncomfortable run in’s in life and just telling them, “I don’t know how long I have here in this physical world – but I am sorry for any hurt I have caused you. I will always love you. And if I come to you in Spirit, it’s real.” I am not perfect, and I know that I haven’t done things 100%, and there are a few people that I love deeply, but messed up that relationship. When you are faced with this predicament, I learned to say sorry in the moment instead of letting my ego get involved. Don’t let it get to the point where you may leave the earth, say it when you feel it. Same goes for I love you’s. Don’t let anyone be left here on the physical plane without them knowing how you truly feel about them. I love so many people, but I don’t think I express that clearly as I could.
Live Life Intensely: Do NOT let fear hold you back, ever. Live every moment as if it is your last. I’m serious, and I know how cliche it sounds. But there is so much I wanted to do that I chose not to do out of fear. Call your own bluff, do it, be uncomfortable, and MAKE HISTORY. YOLO (depending on your belief system!)
I vowed after all this to do everything as I feel it. I don’t want to come back to this plane telling a medium to tell my friends I’m sorry, or I love them. I want to leave here knowing I did the best I could. I just want to live free.