My Not-So-Lovely Lady Lump

Almost a year ago, my doctor found a lump in my throat. I'm sharing this story until now because it's a very personal story, one that I had kept even from my own family and closest friends.

I've battled with hyperthyroidism for years. Some of you may be wondering what the heck hyperthyroidism is, and to give you a reader's digest version I'll just say that I can basically eat like a horse without gaining a pound. Of course, it has many drawbacks, fatigue, a weak immune system, and a very low stress-threshold are just a few of them. Thyroid problems (whether hyper or hypo) also leave you very susceptible to throat cancer. I'm still unsure why this is, but there I was, sitting at the doctor's office, being told I had a lump.

I don't remember much of what the doctor told me after "lump", except for the word, "cancer"... She must have talked for a straight five minutes, but those were the only two words I heard through my entire appointment.

She quickly scheduled me for an ultrasound, but you know in hospital terms scheduling an appointment "as soon as one is available" is equivalent to saying, "see you next month". So I had to wait a couple of weeks before my appointment. Waiting sucked. When you wait to be "diagnosed" with something, you tend to just self-diagnose yourself through WebMD. By the end of a week, I had already convinced myself that I had cancer and would be dying a slow and terrible death.

It took me a couple of days to share it with my then-boyfriend, now-husband. Sharing the news with him was very tough. Immediately after I told him of my lump, I remember saying, "you can leave me if you want". It's so easy to throw yourself a pity-party when life throws you a curve ball. I'm a woman whose petite frame usually doesn't do justice to her strength or courage. When I walk down the streets of North Long Beach and a vato loco stares at me, I stare at him square in the eye. With my look I tell him, "I'm hood too, yo. So don't even try." And yet- this quarter size lump was stripping me away of my dignity.

The weeks leading to my appointment became a turning point in my life. As I mopped around my room and apartment, I began to realize that not only had I given up on myself but I had also given up on God. Up to that point in my life, I had only seen God perform healing miracles in the lives of others, but I had never experienced one in my own adult life. Just two years before my lump discovery, my mother had been healed of a heart attack. Right before going into a risky procedure to uncover what had caused her heart attack, her blood work showed no signs of any heart attack. Dumbfounded, the doctor ordered more tests - and again, they came back negative. The doctor's eyes searched the room frantically, trying to understand what was going on - I simply sat back and watched. I knew God had answered our prayers. The traces of any heart attack had left my mother's body, because God had deemed it so. God heals. It was that simple. My mother was able to walk out of the hospital that very day, with no need for surgery... Of course, knowing the miracle that God had granted in my mother's life only made it harder for me to ask for my own- as if God had a "one miracle per family limit" policy, right?

After a couple of tormenting weeks, I decided it was time to talk to God about my not-so-lovely lady lump. In my mind, the words, "I know this is happening for a reason, so let it be Your will" replayed in my mind. Because, I mean, that's the right thing to say to God, isn't it? Yet, when I opened my mouth, all I could say was, "this doesn't belong in my body. You want me to live a life of abundance and health. So I refuse to accept that this is from You. God, you've told me to ask and I shall receive. I'm asking for healing Lord. And I'm ready to receive." Like you, I was shocked by my own words and conviction. I had never talked to God with that level of confidence; yet, I didn't feel wrong about it. Too many times I had confused "accepting God's will" as being synonymous with accepting defeat. But His word had taught me all about a new God. A God of kindness and love. A God that wants me to get up and fight for what's rightfully mine - a life worth living! A God that wants me to trust I will receive in abundance, even when I have nothing. A Father that wants to heal, restore, and renew. Discovering that I had such an amazing God, led me to a higher level of faith. Like that lady in the bible who knew all she had to do was touch the end of his cloak to be healed, I knew that all I had to do was reach and believe.

They say the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree. My doctor called me a week after my appointment to say that the ultrasound came back with absolutely nothing. After a brief silence on the line, she said she was sure she had felt a lump, but that the ultrasound was coming up blank. She asked if I wanted to schedule another appointment with her to do a re-examination. I could hear papers shuffling, and I could almost see her eyes searching frantically through my chart and results - trying to find a reason, an explanation - just like my mother's doctor had done two years back. I told my doctor a re-examination was not necessary.

The answer she was looking for was the same one my mother's doctor needed too: God heals.