Shortly after the diagnosis and the devastation it caused, I was lying on the bed in tears (while trying to come to terms with this dreaded disease). My husband came in, layed down beside me and asked what was wrong. I had told him I didn't really know but was feeling really blue. He second-guessed me that it was the diagnosis. I agreed and we decided to lay there and each of us say our own silent prayers. He was lying on my left side, his right hand beneath my left and his left hand across his chest. As we were both in prayer, I felt someone squeezing my left hand. I began to fidget and asked him not to squeeze so tight as he was hurting me. He reminded me that my hand was on top of his and he raised his left hand to show me that he was not touching me with that hand either.

We laid there for a few minutes, the squeezing sensation lessened and the room filled with an awesome sensation. We decided that it was the Lord assurring me that everything was going to be all right.

IT WAS. I passed my five-year mark two years ago and the physicians were amazed that I did not have a recurrence within that time frame.

I had had a modified radical mastectomy with removal of 17 lymph nodes; of which 14 were malignant. The chemotherapy drugs had to be reduced because of a pre-existing heart condition and then reduced again because they started to affect my kidneys.

The oncology physicians may have been surprised but I certainly wasn't. After all, the Lord was with me and had shown me from the beginning that all would be well.