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The first time I had breast cancer, in 1993, I thought I'd die. Everyone around me thought so, too—especially people who knew people who'd died of it.

Two years later, my physician ordered a bone scan after I complained of nagging hip pain. Its results revealed a suspicious spot on my hipbone that indicated the possibility my breast cancer had metastasized.

Thankfully, my physicians identified the hot spot on my scan as a stress fracture, not cancer. I vowed then to slip the grip of fear by making the most of every cancer-free day I had. I'd make more time for people. If my daughter, son, or friends called, I'd drop what I was doing to talk with them. I'd say no to projects that were energy drains. I'd stay on a low-fat diet for health reasons, but allow an occasional indulgence, such as a hot-fudge sundae. I'd get more sleep, read better books, spend more time in prayer. I decided to see cancer not as a death sentence but as an invitation to live my life more intentionally.

Then an abnormal mammogram in May 2001 indicated I had to take on my foe again. While round two of breast cancer initially knocked me for a loop, I wasn't down long. My systems for coping were already in place. Here's what has helped me—and can help you, too, if you ever have to face breast cancer or know someone who does.

1. Don't rush the process
In many breast-cancer cases, women are offered the choice of a mastectomy or a lumpectomy plus radiation, in which small lumps are excised with cancer-free margins. The first time around, I wasn't given a choice. The size of the lump in my left breast (3.8 cm, or golf-ball sized) eliminated the lumpectomy option. Still, I wondered if I should have gotten a second opinion. A different surgeon might have echoed the first's advice, but even that would have assured me I was doing the right thing. The point is, don't rush to judgment. Breast cancer grows slow enough for you to make an informed decision about how to treat it.

When my mother-in-law was diagnosed, she recoiled at a surgeon's advice to have a mastectomy. At my urging, she sought a second opinion. She's cancer-free today after a lumpectomy and radiation.

2. Research the dickens out of it
Some people want to hear only what they have to about a medical problem; anything more terrifies them. For me, information is power; it offers a sense of direction through something that threatens to rob me of all sense of control and order.

My work with breast-cancer support groups such as Reach to Recovery put me in regular contact with survivors. I read everything I could get my hands on. I researched dozens of Internet sites. I knew so much about breast cancer, I was bored by it. However, my second round of breast cancer was easier to deal with, partly because of what I'd learned from the first.

3. Lean on the professionals
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer the second time, my surgeon suggested a conference at which my husband and I and various physicians would discuss my case to determine the best treatment course. I leaped at the opportunity.

The meeting began with slides of my cancer cells and two treatment options: mastectomy or lumpectomy with radiation. But as we talked, the oncologist admitted he preferred getting rid of all breast tissue to avert possible recurrence. The surgeon then argued for mastectomy, too, saying it would be better to do everything now rather than in stages. Soon, a consensus emerged.

I left the conference with a clear sense of direction. My questions had been addressed. I'd been a full participant in the discussion. Everyone in that room had helped me decide a mastectomy was my best choice.

4. Don't settle for less
During my first round of breast cancer, a surgeon made a suggestion for which I've always been grateful. "You're so young, you ought to consider immediate reconstruction," he said. I was 48 at the time. I did, and for the most part, I was happy with the results. But several months later, when I attended a Reach to Recovery seminar and saw the slides of a plastic surgeon who specialized in breast reconstruction, I began to wonder if my plastic surgeon had really done so well.

What would this specialist think of my reconstruction? From what I could see, my left breast couldn't compare with the quality of the breast reconstruction that was displayed on the screen.

When I faced a second mastectomy in 2001, I tried calling that plastic surgeon. While waiting for a response, I researched the list of physicians provided by the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, and even met with a local plastic surgeon. No one stood out as a breast-reconstruction specialist.

A week later, I made a trip across two states to see the specialist whose work I'd seen. He did the surgery. From the time the bandage came off, my new breast looked so natural I didn't think of mourning the one I'd lost.

5. See cancer as a gift
When people ask why God would give me breast cancer twice, I often say, "Why would he give me health? One is no more deserved than another."

I go on to tell them how God's used cancer for good in my life. For one thing, it's brought the reconciliation of my son and daughter. Sibling rivalry ruled through childhood, teenage years, and well after both left home. But the day we learned the spot on my hip might be metastasized breast cancer, my son and daughter reached out for each other. As I watched them embrace, tears ran down my cheeks. If this was what cancer could accomplish, I was willing.

There have been other blessings, too, such as priceless memories of my post-operative care. I think of how my daughter bathed me and washed my hair in the hospital. How my mother fixed tea and fetched me pillows, how my sisters dropped off meals, how my stepdad stocked the birdfeeder to entice the finches I love to watch. How friends kidnapped me for lunch. And, finally, how my husband helped me into the car for the long ride home. All the while, I was buoyed by the prayers of friends, church members, and coworkers.

But the sweetest blessing is how cancer makes me cling to God. Life can be so busy, it may take something such as cancer to teach us that regardless of how rewarding our job, family, friendships, and church responsibilities are, nothing's more precious than time we spend with God.

6. Live like a winner
Several years ago, Betty Rollins wrote a book about her experience with breast cancer titled First You Cry. I agree—there definitely is a time for tears. You cry on the elevator ride from the doctor's office after he's put you at the top of his "hit list" for surgery. You cry when your husband wraps his arms around you, trying to ease the blow of a biopsy report. You cry on the phone when you're telling your kids. You cry when Mom tells you, "I wish I could have this instead of you."

But there's a time to stop mourning, too, and get back to life.

One way to do that is to get back to whatever it is God's called you to do.

Work is therapeutic, I've found. It focuses attention on what you can do rather than on what you're powerless to control. And if you're blessed as I am with believing coworkers, it plugs you back into a network of daily support.

Another way to get a grip on cancer is to start helping others. You can't mope around feeling sorry for yourself if you're out shopping for hats with someone about to start chemo. Or be paralyzed by worry if you're chugging off to the hospital to deliver flowers to someone who's just had surgery. The beauty of such helping, of course, is that in helping, we find ourselves being helped.

But the best way to beat back the enemy is to put every fear into the hands of the God who made us, sustains us, and controls whatever happens to us. He knew I'd have cancer. In his unfathomable wisdom, he allowed it to happen for reasons that are only beginning to become apparent to me.

And in his boundless grace, God is using cancer to bless me and those around me. Even if it so ravages my body that I no longer have the strength to go on living, I'll still win the battle. As Philippians 1:18, 21 so beautifully says: "I will continue to rejoice … for to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."

Phyllis Ten Elshof is an editor at Christianity Today International. Adapted from Today's Christian Woman (March/April 2002), © 2002 Phyllis Ten Elshof. Reprinted by permission.

Copyright © 2003 by the author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian magazine (formerly Christian Reader).
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