I’m one of those individuals who is always visiting the doctor, not because I’m a sickly person but because I had some medical issues that required regular attention. My first encounter with the doctor began at age 14. That’s when I had my first surgery. I had a lump in my left breast and technology had not yet advanced to the needle biopsy stage, so I had to have surgery. I can’t say I really thought about the implications of that first surgery; I was just too young.
Things were quiet for a while until after I graduated from college. Then came another surgery. The overriding thought that went through my head was, ‘Lord, please let me wake up.’ I was diagnosed with fibrocystic breasts. Cysts form frequently and because my tissues are so dense it is difficult to determine a harmless cyst from a solid mass, so every suspicious mammogram required more in-depth tests. Every six months I was having a mammogram and inevitably a biopsy would follow. Between 1999 and 2006 I had more ultrasounds, MRIs, needle biopsies, and surgical biopsies than I care to remember. Thank God the result was always the same-benign (normal).
Things changed in 2006. I began to notice signs that something wasn’t right. My doctor recommended further tests which revealed a mass growing in the connective tissue of my breast, which meant another surgery. I mentioned to my doctor a lump I had felt in the same area where the other mass was growing. Tests revealed my worst nightmare coming true: Phylloides Tumor (a type of cancer). After almost seven years of negative results my luck had finally run out. I remember sitting in that room and all I heard was, ‘I’m sorry.’ It took a while for that to sink in, but when it did I started to cry. I remember calling my boss and telling her I wasn’t coming back to work that day; then I had to call my mother and tell her the bad news. Her baby had breast cancer. She started to cry and I cried even harder.
My treatment at the age of 39 was a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. I wasn’t even 40 yet, so how could this be happening to me? We could find no one in my family with a history of breast cancer. I told only one individual at church about my surgery, Minister Kathleen Hawkins. I asked her to pray for me and the day before the procedure I came by the church. She and Mother Butler prayed for me. I knew in order to get through it I needed the Lord on my side.
The night before surgery I prayed like I had never prayed before. Just before surgery I remember asking the Lord, please let me wake up. Surgery was at 1 PM; when I woke up it was after 11 PM. Visiting hours were long gone and so were my family members. The one thing that stood out at that time was the excruciating pain. Recovery was rough. I had daily trips to the doctor and developed several complications, one of which resulted in another surgery four months later. I realize how truly blessed I am. Had I not listened to the Lord’s voice, my cancer could have gone undetected for years and the outcome could have been very different.
When I came back to church after my ordeal it was difficult, but Minister Kathleen was always there with prayer and words of comfort. Minister Beckett also encouraged me and provided three pages of healing scriptures. I kept those scriptures and hope one day I can bless someone else with those same scriptures and words of encouragement. This was a very personal experience for me, so I was hesitant at first when asked if I would consider writing my testimony. My main concern was what others’ reactions would be after reading my story. But I was reminded of what Evangelist Wanda Burgess once said about never being ashamed of your testimony because you never know who you might help by telling your story. I hope by reading my story someone is helped in some small way.
Sis. Dawnetta Campbell
