From Microphones to Mastectomies

The Week Before Surgery

The last couple of weeks have been full in the most beautiful way.

We celebrated three birthdays, including mine:) My youngest became an adult, and a few days later graduated from high school.

AND I attended the most soul-filling speaker conference I could imagine.

I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

As I record this, I’m out walking on a rainy Memorial Day weekend, savoring the fact that I’m alone, it’s peaceful and I get to do what I love to do, which is ShineForward✨

Yes, that pun was INTENDED!

I love sharing my story. I truly do. Sometimes living it is hard. Sometimes living it is loud. Sometimes living it is laughable. But no matter what, it’s a gift to be present in the moment.

The hard part is what’s quietly looming ahead. I pushed it aside until after this wonderful season of “Magical May.”

But the time is here. On June 1st, I will have a double mastectomy. And that reality is creeping into the crevices of my day.

The reality of what is physically about to happen to my body is pretty darn frightening. I know this comes with more than just physical recovery. There’s mental recovery too, from a body changed forever.

Faith, Fear, and Pathology

And then there’s the pathology.

At the end of March, the tumor wasn’t detectable via ultrasound. It was gone before the full effects of chemo round five even kicked in. I don’t take that lightly.

I’m a faith-filled woman. I don’t just say it, I mean it. I practice it. It’s literally tattooed on my arm.

Your prayers and God work miracles.

But until they remove the tissue and do the deep dive pathology, we cannot officially say I’ve had a “complete pathological response.”

Part of me leans deeply into my faith and says: “God’s got this either way, Karen. You’ve already made peace with the idea that whether it’s 5, 10 years, or 30 years, whatever He asks you to do, you’ll show up and do it. He’s asked before, and you answered.”

In my heart, I’m all in.

If my stupid brain would just get on board, this would all be so much easier.

The Gift of Mic Drop Live

Amidst Magical May, I was able to able to attend an amazing women’s speaker conference called Mic Drop Live. It was an incredible gift at this stage of my journey. What I didn’t expect was what this conference would give me right before this next chapter.

I was surrounded by this beautiful sisterhood of speakers, women I’ve spent years talking to virtually that I finally got to hug in person.

Truth be told, I had two very different thought processes heading into the conference.

The first was fear.

Would I feel left behind watching all these women thriving professionally while I’ve spent the last year focused on chemotherapy, surgeries, and recovery?

Would I drown in comparison? Would I feel forgotten or question where I fit now?

But the other possibility…was being fueled in a new way.

Would being with them fill my soul in a way only true connection can? Would it reignite something in me or remind me what’s waiting on the other side of healing?

And that’s exactly what happened.

I didn’t feel behind.

I felt loved. Connected. Empowered. Worthy. Fueled.

Because every single woman in that room had a story. We shared them, lots of them…and my wig! Yep, Gladys got around:)

And in that rare, very special vulnerability, comparison didn’t stand a chance in the face of authentic, meaningful connection.

One Minute on Stage

At the end of the conference, they invited three women to come up and share a brief testimonial about their experience.

My hand shot up before I even knew what I was going to say, and somehow, I was chosen.

I was the last person to speak at the very end of the conference.

For one minute, I stood on that stage holding a microphone in front of a community of women I deeply admire, and I remembered something I needed heading into this next season…

I’m still me.

Not just a patient.

Not just a diagnosis.

Not just someone waiting for surgery.

I’m still a speaker. A storyteller. A coach. A woman with purpose, passion, and so much life still left to live!

So as I head into surgery this coming week, I do so with a full, blessed heart.

Because this is just a season. A hard one, yes. But still just a season.

And on the other side of it… is more life to live, stories to share, and reasons to ShineForward✨
Prayers are gratefully appreciated for a positive outcome and for my amazing caregivers. I’m not always the easiest to care for!