‘I Begged God for Good News’

By John Bach

John enjoying the beach fire during our Summer 2021 vacation.

I begged God for good news. 

It was almost exactly 24 hours since the biopsy when we finally got the phone call. Julie, Josie and I had started to run to the chiropractor that day, but we realized as we backed out the driveway they were closed on Thursdays.

“It’s OK, we can still go get coffee,” Josie said, as we headed out to run some other errands. We stopped at Kroger for a couple things on the way home, and while I was in the store Julie received an email that the “My Chart” app had been updated. I’m still impressed she didn’t go and look, but she didn’t. They warned us not to try to interpret the results ourself but to wait for someone to call.

Once home, Julie took a nap on the couch while I caught up on some work. Finally at around 2 p.m., they called. Julie walked into the kitchen and the nurse navigator asked how her biopsy incision was doing. Finally, she said she had results, and Julie put the phone on speaker. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have good news to share with you,” she said. “You have a somewhat aggressive form of cancer that has triple negative receptors.”

I began feverishly scribbling words on teal Post-it notes. This was one thing I could do well. I can absorb all the details. I must have used half a pack of Post-its.

Julie started to cry and walked out of the kitchen. I think she was telling the girls to go back upstairs. I jumped in and alerted the nurse that I was also on the call and began peppering her with questions.

“Do you know what stage cancer this is?” She looked it up and reported that it was Stage 2. I asked about typical treatment, and she began going through textbook treatments for this type of cancer. “Typically they begin with chemo, then there’s surgery, and then if needed, radiation.”

We finally hung up with the navigator and she instructed us to set up an appointment with one of four Tri-Health breast surgeons. I immediately went to Julie who was leaning against our kitchen sink and held her. She’s clearly stunned, but not all that surprised I guessed. We both had a terrible feeling when leaving on Monday. Our fears were confirmed, and here we were with this life-wrecking terrible news. 

I called the girls down, and we shared what had to be terrifying news with Georgia and Josie. Again, Greta is at work. They reacted similarly to Monday’s news. Georgia wept, and Josie stared.

“How are we going to tell Greta,” we all asked. Greta was acutely aware that news was expected, and she had been texting all day for updates. She was peppering me, Mom and the girls independently. We told the girls not to respond, and finally about 3 p.m. I called her.

“Hey, we got news today. It isn’t good, but let’s talk about it when you get home.” I knew this wouldn’t work as soon as I said it.

“What do you mean, is it cancer?” she asked. “Yes, but Mom is going to be OK.” What did they say?” she asked. “Greta, they said the biopsy showed cancer and that Mom will be OK. I don’t want  you thinking about all this on your way home. Let’s talk about the details when you get here.”

“What stage is it?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard my instructions. “It’s stage 2, but Mom will be OK.” She finally agreed to stop prying for details and left work early. I could tell Greta cried all the way home by the look in her eyes. I was making some food in the kitchen, and I told her Mom was out on the screened porch if she wanted to talk to her. 

Next it was time to go to work. We needed a second opinion and everyone was pointing to experts at the University of Cincinnati, where I also work. My first call was to Katie, one of my former writers in media relations who covered cancer. I knew she had written extensively about breast cancer and had even done a powerful feature on Dr. Beth Shaughnessy, the breast cancer surgeon who also fought off breast cancer. My voice was embarrassingly shaky when I called her.

I could barely get out the words. “My wife has breast cancer.” Oh, John, I’m so sorry,” Katie said. I explained that I needed her help. We wanted a second opinion but we knew UC’s experts would be impossible to see — especially before we were expected to leave on vacation. Our annual trek to Michigan was a couple of days away, but instead of packing, we were coming unglued.

As it turned out, Katie had Dr. Shaughnessy’s cell number, and she was able to get us a 2 p.m. appointment the next day. We drove down to UC on Friday and made our way to the Barrett Cancer Center. As we rounded the bend from the garage and saw the Barrett Cancer Center, Julie was immediately confronted with an older woman, maybe 55, who was wearing a bandana on her head. She squeezed my arm, and I could hear her gasp. In her mind, she had already seen her future. She would be that bald woman soon.