Nothing prepares you for the cancer call.

Mine came on May 27th, a Wednesday around 4pm. I was juggling final grades for my 7th graders and preparing to move to a new house the following weekend. I was helping a friend tidy her house for girls night (with my one spare hour), and an incoming call from my clinic didn’t concern me at all. I had been going through a variety of tests over the past few weeks for a tumor on my thyroid – but the same tests done in 2008 were resoundingly benign. Just one day earlier I was venting to my sister that I was having to pay for these tests that were completely unnecessary. I didn’t have cancer, and I couldn’t keep missing work for pointless and painful exams.

“Yes, hello Rachel. My name is Dr. _____, Dr. Wilson is on vacation. I’ve received your biopsy results and they are malignant. This needs to be taken care of immediately. Our facility cannot treat you, I need you to tell me whether you’d like to be treated in Billings or Bismarck.”

As one who is rarely short on words, 8 million thoughts traffic-jammed my brain and nothing was coming out. He didn’t have time for my silence and informed me a nurse would call me in the morning, and I should have my decision ready.

Click.

I froze. My friend was changing a diaper in the other room and I made a rushed excuse and ran out to my car. Who do I call? What do I do? Am I going to lose my hair? Will I spend the summer in the hospital? Am I going to die?

I felt like I should call my parents, but I didn’t know anything. How do you tell your parents this sort of thing? I felt like my boyfriend deserved more than a text, but I didn’t want to send him into an anxious spin cycle halfway across the globe in the middle of the night. I quickly googled “Cancer + Minnesota” and found a treatment center about 25 miles from my mom’s house. I knew next to nothing – but I did know I didn’t want to walk this journey alone in an unfamiliar city.

I called my mom and burst into tears. I didn’t know why I was crying – I think I was becoming aware that I was not in the driver’s seat of my young and adventurous life anymore. The unknowns began to pile up in my mind. I was turning 26 in two weeks and my dad’s insurance was just waiting to drop me like a bad habit. I didn’t have enough in savings to pay for my rent and bills this summer without a paycheck. Am I going to be fighting for my life in a matter of weeks?

I had an appointment scheduled with an ENT specialist in Minnesota the next Monday – leaving me with 24 hours to pack up my old place and unpack my new one. I was supposed to be dog-sitting for my cousin and my new landlord (who possessed the only key) was still in Denver waiting for our new shower door. I sat with all of my possessions behind the new house as the sunlight faded and wondered how my perfect life had unraveled in just a few minutes. It was then I remembered what had seemed to slip my mind: prayer.

I sat on the back stoop and told God this journey was impossible without His leading. I didn’t want to rob Him of any glory with a negative attitude or a submission to fear. I gave him the keys and saw what had been true all along: He was the captain of this voyage, and I had nothing to fear.

An hour later, the neighbor boy snuck through the kitchen window and I was in. A quick text brought 4 friends within minutes and we were moving furniture, unpacking boxes, and scrubbing surfaces. I pulled out a suitcase and threw a month’s worth of clothes into it – not knowing when I’d return. And just like that, I was on a train headed into the nucleus of my cancer story.

Little brings more relief than a doctor who calls your case a “blip on the radar.” I had thyroid cancer and it was in stage 1 – perhaps the best type of cancer to have. The treatment was straightforward: remove the thyroid, take a radioactive pill 6 weeks later, and be on your merry way (with a lifetime supply of medicinal tic-tacs). There was a 97% chance I’d enter 2016 cancer-free and never have to look back.

My insurance wouldn’t drop me until July 1st and I was able to have both of my thyroid surgeries covered. $50,000 of medical treatment cost about $800. My usual voice was a casualty of two throat surgeries, but with each day I’m sounding more and more like myself (and a female). My doctor made it possible for me to go to Taiwan at the end of the summer, and I’ll even be able honor my longstanding date with Taylor Swift the day before my last treatment next month.

One of my first thoughts after the initial phone call was “why me?” I’m young – I have purpose and passion, I don’t want my life to be cut short. I gave up gluten for pete’s sake – shouldn’t that win me a lifetime supply of health points? I have a million better things to do than spend my summer in the hospital.

But as I look at this journey in the rear view mirror, I can’t help but think: “why not me?” I’m a teacher, and I got this call a day before summer break. I have two parents who had the time, finances and space to take care of me while I was recovering. This came at the tail end of a cadillac insurance plan that has graciously covered me for years (helping enormously in my debt-free mission). With the exception of a bum thyroid (R.I.P.), I’ve always been a healthy kid. I have no reason to fear any outcome, having seen God work miracles in my life on a regular basis.

I was only supposed to have one surgery, but the results of my first surgery called for a second. At first I was discouraged to go under the knife a second time, but then I started to think about my friends at the hospital. The nurse who stayed up with me late into the night to watch Game 7 of the NBA finals. Two parents who sat with me as I drifted in and out of sleep and could only whisper in conversation. My surgeon was excellent, and it was a miracle she had space for a new patient from North Dakota on such short notice. I wouldn’t change a single character in my hospital story, and if I had to do it twice – it was good to do it with friends.

I’ve quietly struggled with lethargy for many years. It’s a hard thing to identify – as waking up tired after several hours of sleep leads one to believe they are simply lazy or unmotivated. My metabolism has been inconsistent, even as I make steps towards a healthier diet. Though this cancer derailed my summer, I’m hopeful that it will awaken my future life. Already I’m seeing signs of energy I’ve not seen in years. I’m finding motivation to pursue daily goals and feeling discontent with days that pass by with little more than naps, caffeine, and scattered social encounters.

What I hope this all points to is a God that scatters suffering with grace. In no way does God delight in the suffering of His people, but sickness and imperfect circumstances are necessary in this redemption story. And if I’m being completely honest, the suffering in this season was minimal. I was gifted a month of rest. I was able to connect with a few long-lost friends from college and read a handful of books. I watched the Twins soar through a summer of greatness (that might end with an autumn of we-came-close). Phone calls of dear friends and family poured in with prayers and encouragements. I am continually astounded at the people that take interest in my life.

I just want to say THANKS to all of you that pray for me and believe in me. I’m thankful for a story that continues on this planet, and I don’t want to waste it. I have one more date with that radioactive pill on October 16th and God-willing I should be off into the sunset.