I WANT MY LIFE BACK!

"I WANT MY LIFE BACK!" I have cried out these words many times from the depths of my being throughout this disease. Each setback pushes the finish line farther away—the day when doctors' visits, poking needles, toxic drugs, and painful surgeries are finally behind me. Cancer doesn't just destroy cells and organs; it invades every part of your life and spills into the lives of those who love you most. This week, that truth tore out of me in sheer exhaustion.

We went in for my first radiation appointment. It was supposed to include the creation of a mold to hold my body still, three tattoos (which we'll call "party dots"), and a scan to map out my radiation dosage and treatment plan. But instead of moving forward, we hit another snag—another delay in the care plan.

The tissue expander (aka torture device) on the left side was blocking one of the beam angles needed to target the right-side cancer cells. Because of this, the radiation oncologist explained that we had two options to proceed.

1. Remove the fluid from the left tissue expander, or

2. Attempt to manually push the left expander and skin out of the way.

Anyone without experience living with a tissue expander would likely suggest the latter as the best option. However, those who have actually had a breast tissue expander sewn into their chest wall know that is NOT an option. There is no way to move those bags of fluid. While they may sound pliable, they are in fact extremely hard and immovable. These foreign objects are painful even when untouched, so forcibly maneuvering them is simply not possible.

This was not just a medical decision; it was an obedience decision. I knew the only real options I had were to remove the fluid or forego radiation.

If I remove the fluid, I will remain lopsided throughout the eight-week radiation process. This concern is not rooted in vanity. It means I would have to go back through the painfully grueling expansion process again. I cannot remove the fluid from the right tissue expander because maintaining its volume offers the best chance of preserving enough skin through radiation to allow for any future reconstructive option that keeps the femininity of my chest.

I already knew the decision was to keep fighting forward with radiation—not because it was easy, but because obedience often requires choosing what is costly over what is comfortable. I just needed to get quiet and have a come-to-Jesus meeting to manage my emotions, so I took a five-mile walk to talk with my Abba, my Father.

I poured out all the real feelings and pain at His feet. I wasn't asking God to remove the path in front of me; I was asking Him to hear me and help me walk it obediently.

"Abba, I want my life back. It feels like I have no say in what is happening to my body, and the lack of dignity is crushing my spirit. At times, I feel like the person I was before cancer is gone, and my courage and strength to withstand the impact of this egregious disease are dwindling. Beauty is something a woman holds onto, even without a conceited desire to be pretty. Yet in the midst of cancer, I see beauty everywhere except in my own reflection. I have no hair, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, no nipples, skin irritation, blistered rashes, and breasts that are oddly shaped, rock-hard, and painful. I feel vulnerable and overwhelmed right now, but sharing these feelings with you helps me find the strength to keep fighting."

Once I let it all out, I walked my grandbaby to the park. I needed a reminder of why I am putting my body through the slash, poison, and burn used to describe surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. I found it in the sunshine of his smile and the simple joy of seeing him laugh, going down the slide, and being pushed on a swing.

The next morning, I sat with my best friend, Gavin, enjoying our cup of coffee and scripture during our Word before the World time. I opened my Bible and asked the Holy Spirit to help change my heart in any way it needed to be transformed so I could be more obedient and bring glory to God. This year, our family is reading through the chronological Bible together, and I tend to get swept away with the stories, so I'm a few weeks ahead. It just so happened that my reading that day focused on the life of Joseph, one of Jacob's twelve sons, and the most favored. The whole story comes from the book of Genesis 37-50.

Joseph's brothers were jealous of him and plotted to kill him. Instead, they threw him into a cistern, but then changed their minds when they saw traders approaching. His brothers sold him to passing traders as a slave. He was taken to Egypt and became a servant in the house of Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh's guard. Though Joseph served faithfully and maintained his integrity, he was falsely accused by Potiphar's wife when he refused her advances, and he was thrown into prison.

While imprisoned, Joseph met Pharaoh's cupbearer and chief baker, both of whom had troubling dreams. Joseph made it clear that only God could interpret dreams, and through God, he revealed their meanings. As foretold, the cupbearer was restored to his position, and the baker was executed. Though the cupbearer promised to remember Joseph, he forgot him—until Pharaoh himself had dreams no one could interpret.

When the cupbearer finally remembered Joseph, he was brought before Pharaoh. Joseph again credited God alone for the interpretation. Pharaoh recognized Joseph's wisdom and appointed him second in command over Egypt. The dreams revealed that seven years of feast would be followed by seven years of famine. 

During the famine, Joseph's brothers came to Egypt seeking food, unaware that he was the brother they had betrayed. After testing their hearts, Joseph revealed his identity. Though they feared retaliation, Joseph said, "It was not you who sent me here, but God" (Genesis 45:8). Joseph's obedience did not begin when his circumstances improved. Instead, it was forged while he was betrayed, confined, forgotten, and falsely accused. He was obedient and faithful through all he suffered at the hands of his brothers' envy and conspiratorial actions. Joseph knew God had used the pain and betrayal of his brothers to put him exactly where God needed him to be. 

Joseph may have wanted his old life back amid the suffering, but he did not view it as meaningless. He allowed every injustice, loss of control, and unwanted burden to draw him closer to God. He had lost autonomy over his body in prison but not his mind or soul. He remained obedient, forgave freely, used his gifts to serve others, and trusted that God had placed him exactly where he was for a greater purpose. Joseph was not the same person he was before he endured the deception of his family. God had used it as an opportunity to transform Joseph into who He was created to be. Joseph's obedience and faith in the Lord saved the lives of the people of Egypt and the surrounding regions from starvation and death. He was also able to model forgiveness and love to his family.

Like Joseph, I did not get to choose the circumstances placed before me. But I do get to select obedience within them. As Joseph modeled, when I cry out that I want my life back, I'm not actually asking for the life I had before cancer. I'm surrendering to the life God is building—one shaped by obedience, trust, and a deeper dependence on Him. Obedience for me looks like continuing treatment even when it costs my body, my comfort, and my sense of dignity. It looks like trusting that God is positioning me for purposes I cannot yet see, but that I know will bring God's transformational plan for my life and those I love. I do not want my old life back, as I see the life He is building is so much greater. 

As I sat there reflecting on God's goodness, in that one line of scripture, I received a prayer message from a fellow pink sister, a scripture (Luke 12:22–23) from my youngest sister, a song of hope from another sister in Christ, a phone call from my sister-in-law to make me laugh and and a check-in call from my dad. Aside from my family, none of these women knew what I was facing that day; yet, each message arrived exactly when I needed it.

As we drove to the reconstructive surgeon's office to drain the fluid, Gavin held my hand, reminding me I am held in more ways than one. And more friends reached out, sharing that the Holy Spirit had placed me on their hearts. They had been praying and kept seeing my face come to mind. I needed all of these sweet messages to remind me that God is with me in this journey, even when the plan changes, His sovereignty never does.

God made it clear that I was seen and heard. The anger and frustration I felt over this delay were not to be blamed on anyone or anything, just as my cancer was not because of something I did. However, it was all an invitation to obedience, to praise God not because the plan made sense, but because He is sovereign. Afterall, I know God is using everything in my story and yours for good. Through His comforting Word, the love of my husband, the comfort of my family, and the prayers and praise of my sisters in Christ, He reminded me that even here—especially here—He is faithful. Obedience does not erase suffering, but it does anchor hope. And when obedience feels costly, I cling to the truth that God never wastes it.