I glanced warily at the IV bag hanging from the pole in my infusion bay. \u201cIsn\u2019t that the poison symbol?\u201d I asked the nurse. He had donned a full gown, mask and gloves to hook up the chemotherapy drugs now coursing through my system.<\/p>\n
\u201cYep,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re trained to handle these drugs carefully.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I\u2019m being poisoned,\u201d I said, trying to joke.<\/p>\n
\u201cBasically.\u201d He smiled, but his eyes were sad. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
When he left, I took a ragged breath, scared and angry. This was not where I wanted to be.<\/p>\n
A year ago, life had been full. Sycamore Creek Church, the United Methodist congregation where my husband, Tom, serves as pastor in Lansing, Michigan, was thriving. Our two boys, ages four and seven, made for a lively household. I\u2019d been offered the fantastic opportunity to write A Light So Lovely, <\/em>a biography about Madeleine L\u2019Engle<\/a>, whom I\u2019d long admired and who died in 2007. Her books for children, teens and adults sold in the tens of millions\u2014most famously the Newbery Medal-winner A Wrinkle in Time, <\/em>which in early 2018 became a Disney blockbuster. That same fall, Madeleine would\u2019ve turned 100. It was a great year for a book about her spiritual legacy.<\/p>\n Then in May 2018, just as final revisions for the manuscript were due, I was diagnosed with Stage I breast cancer. \u201cYou\u2019re looking at a left mastectomy,\u201d my doctor told me. \u201cI\u2019d be surprised if you need chemo or radiation. Overall, a good prognosis.\u201d<\/p>\n But things had not gone as expected. In a matter of weeks, my full and energizing life had collapsed into one frightening imperative: Survive.<\/p>\n