Ready, Set.......Wait

Day Twelve – Tuesday

I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m really sore this morning, but no bleeding and no bruising. Randy won’t be home until Saturday so we can go to the Gaslight with Amy. I wish he was here.

I can’t lift anything until tomorrow, so I can’t do laundry. The afghan is heavy, but I may work on it this afternoon, just to have something to do. Maybe I’ll finish up the necklace I started and fix the one for Mom. No heavy lifting there.

I’ll find something to do today.

Day Thirteen – Wednesday

Nothing unusual. My breasts are starting to bruise, but the pain has subsided. It’s shower day! You just never know how much you miss taking a shower until you can’t. It felt so good to be clean all over!

Day Fourteen – Thursday

I waited as long as I could before I called the doctor’s office. When I got no response from them, I call the radiologist.

The report wasn’t back yet. They didn’t expect them until Friday or Monday. So, why do they tell everyone 3-4 days when it actually takes 5-7 days? Optimism?

Day Fifteen – Friday

Randy is home. We’re watching TV and doing house chores when the phone rings. My doctor, who is sweet, doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Just tell me already.

It’s cancer. I want to throw the phone against the wall, I want to go on a path of destruction that can’t be cleaned up. But I just cry in Randy’s arms. I can’t stop crying. I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. All I can do is cry.

About an hour later, I realize that the doctor was not specific enough for me. I called the radiologist who explained more of the report and some of it made me feel a little better, I guess. The lump is .5 cm and contains a high grade cancer. That means there are more cancer cells than non-cancer cells in the lump. But the calcifications are normal. She says she wants the lab to go deeper into the calcifications just to make sure.

Day Sixteen – Saturday

We have 4 tickets to the Gaslight Theater. I call my sister-in-law, Darla, at the last minute to ask if she would like to go with us. She agrees.

I decide that this is the day I will tell my daughter – face to face. I hold her and say “Don’t let go. It’s bad news.” And as I hold my baby girl, I tell her about the cancer. But I also tell her that it will be alright. And she says the most amazing thing “You are the strongest woman I know. If anyone can handle this, you can.” We dry each others tears and go inside to watch the Christmas farce. And we laugh. Laughter is good for the soul.

Day Seventeen – Sunday

I call my son in Nebraska. I wish I could be there to hold him, but he says that he knows everything will be alright and that he loves me. I get a text message from my granddaughter later in the evening that says "I luv u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". Who says text messages aren't good for the soul?

Day Eighteen – Monday

I call the doctor that my doctor referred me to and find out she doesn’t take my insurance. Peachy. So, I call my doctor’s office again and they give me the name of another doctor who also happens to be the doctor of a friend’s friend who she loved. I called his office and I was simply blown away by the kindness of the receptionist. We make an appointment for the following Monday.

Ready, set, wait. Cancer is a lot of that. People think, you find the lump, you get treatment.  My first cancer was confirmed on October 27 and I didn’t start chemo until December 11. There are tests and scheduling problems and biopsies to wait for. It has to be staged and options need to be discussed. At a time when your head is just one big blur, your doctor will ask you what option you would prefer. What are they thinking? But you have to make that decision, with the help of your doctor.