I've got news. No, I'm not pregnant.

So. Some of you who know me on the facebooks already know the news I'm about to drop here on the innernets.

I got some news.

It's not really good news.

There was breast cancer in the tissue they removed from me last Thursday.

Well, I lied.  There is some good news.  And that's the fact that even though my mammogram didn't detect anything suspicious, all physical exams I've had showed nothing abnormal and all of my blood tests haven't flagged anything weird...I had this surgery and they found it.

Actually, that's great news.

Let me bring you up to speed.

See, I had some stitches removed yesterday.  It was just supposed to be a short visit, getting the stitches removed and then I could carry on with my day.

However, the doctor poked and prodded for about 2.4 seconds and then sat down and said, "I've got some good news and some bad news.  There was breast cancer in the tissue they removed."

And pretty much from there on, my mind was full of bees, buzzing away, my body doing that hot-flash-panic thing, my eyes round as saucers, staring at my husband as the phrase "I have cancer" settled into my mind.

It was a very very surreal moment.

My husband, being the gentleman he is, got up from his chair and came and stood by me, rubbing my back in little circles.  I love that man so much.

I could tell my doctor hated to tell me this.  I mean, I am young folks.  I'm only 35.  There is no history of breast cancer on my mother's side of the family which is what they look at.  My mammogram was clear.

And yet.

And yet.

This is the scary thing about breast cancer.  It is silent.  So very quiet.  Just steadily growing inside, plotting it's takeover.

Cancer is a bitch.

And yet.

And yet.

Here's the awesome part, folks.  For there really is a silver lining in this horrid situation.

See, if I had not had this surgery this year, and waited until next year...it would've been too late.  Because the mass they removed was full of invasive cells.  Meaning they would've done a hostile takeover and it would've been ugly.  If I had had surgery a year ago, they wouldn't've found it.

This, my friends, is kind of a miracle.  Do you understand that?  How perfect timing this is?

So.  Now what?  Well, my doctor was baffled by my predicament.  As he put it, finding cancer in me is as rare as finding teeth on a hen. So he is talking with other doctors and they will present my case this coming Tuesday at a Breast Cancer Conference.  He'll hook me up with an oncologist and a general surgeon and we'll go from there.

What does this mean?  Well, it means a lot of tests. It means possibly an MRI.  It means figuring out if my lymph nodes are affected.  It might even mean they have to take all of my breasts.

I'm not gonna lie- that part has me laughing.  I've lived most of my life with enormous bosoms and it would be JUST.LIKE.ME. to have to live the rest of my life with no bosoms.

But I'm not going to freak out.  Hopefully.

Instead, I'm going to focus on all the positives.  That, for whatever random reason (or divine reason) I had this surgery NOW.  That they found this EARLY.  That my life might be saved because of EARLY DETECTION.

It's scary.  I won't lie about that either.  It's scary because, I think as a society, we're trained to be scared of the words CANCER and DEATH.  Both are uncertain.  Almost entirely out of our hands.  Invisible.  Uncontrollable.

And yet.

And yet.

I believe in a Great Big God.  And I believe that He knows me.  I believe it when I read in the Bible that He knows the very number of hairs on my head.  That He knows when I'll sit down, and when I'll stand.  He's got my life mapped out already and I'm just following along according to His plan.  And He's on my side, folks.

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Some of you might not understand that.  You might not believe like me.  And that's ok.  Because, I believe in Him enough for you.  I think He loves you, too.  So there.

It sucked telling everyone.  It was hard.  Emotional.  I'm not a crier, and yet I cried buckets.  It was especially hard telling my kids.  My kids.  My poor kids, who looked so confused.  Asked hard questions like, "Momma, are you going to die?"

Yeah, I had to leave the room.

But life is so precious.  Each hug they give me is their gift.  They make me gobs of cards.  All with misspellings and hilarious snippets:  "Momma, I'm sad.  Daddy's sad.  Addie's sad but she's not crying."  They are precious to me.

My husband.  My partner.  I shall not take for granted how awesome he is.

My amazing, amazing friends.  All praying.  All supporting.  Offering to watch my kids.  My Bestie is flying down, just to be with me.

I am truly blessed.

So here is my life now.  This blog?  This blog is supposed to be a place for humor.  For the hilarity.  For the random.  I'm not sure how "cancer" fits into that and yet.

And yet.

This is what I will be living with now.  So.

I shall keep za blog updated.  I shall not give up.  I shall kick cancer in the ass.

Thank you for reading this insanely long and intense post, my kind friends.  Pray for me.  And trust in Him.  He's pretty powerful, y'all.