My Goliath and My Lion’s Den

The moment that changed everything

Adapted from my memoir, Blush: How I Barely Survived 17, for the 25th anniversary of being diagnosed with colorectal cancer on January 23, 2001.

I wrote this to capture what happened the night I received my first cancer diagnosis and how my teenage-self responded. I also want to note that later in the book, I share the very different response I had to my second diagnosis. It was not so… faith filled.

There’s no right way to handle hard things. But I can testify that after all these years, God is good. No matter what life throws at it, faith can survive.

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I’d always loved books and reading, as a little girl I got lost inside of stories. I’d connect with characters who, when nobody else did, understood me. So working at the public library by my house was the perfect first job.

The library was a special place. Everyone was welcome and treated with respect. Working there offered a therapeutic routine; reshelving books and straightening up tables and chairs provided a safe space and much-needed consistency in my teenage life.

It was a cold January night and I’d had a really rough start to my week. An uncomfortable and embarrassing GI appointment had kicked it off, followed by a colonoscopy and a possible cancer scare - whatever that meant. I was thankful when Tuesday night rolled around and I got to go to work my shift. I especially liked it because Tuesday nights involved rearranging the children’s area for the adult’s program. My friends and I would laugh and joke around as we stacked tables and pushed around chairs to create rows.

“There we go, they’re all straight!”

We’d had just put the finishing touches on the area when I looked up and saw my parents walk into the library. My heart sank, this couldn’t be good. Whatever they came for couldn’t wait for me to get home. I still had an hour left on my shift.

I took an empty cart and started pushing it toward the front. They had already spotted me. We ended up meeting near the children’s book aisles where The Berenstain Bears and Clifford titles sat on the shelves just behind me.

“Hi, what are you guys doing here?” I whispered, trying to act like I didn’t know.

I looked to the side and noticed my friends staying back, confused about what was going on. Mom and Dad stared at me for a second, I could tell Mom had been crying. Finally, Dad broke the silence in a hushed library voice.

“The doctor’s office called with your biopsy results. The mass they found during your colonoscopy was a tumor. It’s malignant.”

Time stood still as I watched their eyes turn red and well up with tears. I wrinkled my forehead - I didn’t understand.

“What does malignant mean?”

I had never heard the word before, in fact I had never heard most of the words being used around me the past week. I understood “tumor” and “biopsy,” but not until the GI’s office had I ever heard of a “colonoscopy” or “gastroenterologist.” Truth be told, I’d never been taught about the “colon” and “rectum” either. I’d known them as “intestines.”

Dad cleared his throat, looked at Mom, and looked back at me.

“Cancer, malignant means you have cancer, Danielle.”

I thought and felt nothing, I didn’t know what to do or say. Nothing in the children’s books behind me had prepared me for this situation. My parents instantly wrapped their arms around me, but I felt numb. The hugs were easing their own pain. If I had any, I was oblivious to it. More than anything, I was stunned.

Somehow, I got home that night.

I wasn’t sure if other people already knew my news. I assumed my parents had told the family and people from church. But once I found out I officially had cancer, I really didn’t care who knew or who didn’t except for one person: my boyfriend Mike. I got the cordless phone from my brother and prayed Mike would pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey - it’s me.”

“Hey…”

I’d already told him about my biopsy during the colonoscopy and that the results were expected to come back any day.

“Well, we found out what it is.” I took a long pause. The moments of the previous hour were finally becoming a reality. It was one thing to be told I had cancer, but it was another thing to turn around and tell the most important person in my life I was sick.

“Yeah - what’s going on?”

My voice shook. “Um, well... it’s cancer.”

The phone call went silent - we both didn’t know what to say. Nobody our age had ever faced anything like this. My heart was heavy and I wanted nothing more than for us to be in the same place. The plastic receiver squished against my ear was a fake substitution for comfort. He was the only person I wanted in that moment with me.

“Wow, okay, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?”

I didn’t know how to answer it.

“Yeah, I think so. I can’t really talk now, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

We hung up and I looked at myself in my vanity’s mirror. “Am I OK?” I wasn’t really sure. It didn’t seem real. I felt fine. I was young and healthy… except for a little blood in my stool and pain in my stomach every now and then.

The next several hours were full of lots of prayers and a visit from my youth pastor. By the end of the night, I was exhausted. Yet all of the sudden, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head, and I was filled with unexplainable hope and joy.

“This is really going to spice up my testimony.”

It made no sense. Seconds earlier, I felt scared and shocked I had cancer. Yet now, dare I say I felt… excited!? I’d been toying with the idea of becoming a missionary. I wanted to share my faith. All the Bible studies I’d grown up hearing my whole life came to mind. They were stories of people who faced daring adventures and did big things for God. Their lives weren’t easy - they were full of struggles too.

David faced Goliath. Esther approached the King. Joshua marched around a huge wall, and my namesake Daniel almost got eaten by lions. The disciples had suffered to tell others about Jesus, and Paul wrote letters from prison. Now, I too, at seventeen years old, could relate to suffering.

The way I saw it, nearly all of my life had been lived in a nice, suburban neighborhood where things went as planned and stayed on track. Sure I’d faced some hardships, but nothing out of the ordinary. But cancer - this was different. This was big. My concern became not my health nor the road ahead, but how God would use my story.

I’d just found my Goliath and my lion’s den.