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.

Tomorrow Will Change Everything

Day Twenty – Christmas

With a big, ugly cloud hanging over the house, we celebrated with our daughter and had a wonderful meal together, visited with neighbors, and watched “A Christmas Story”. Cancer would not ruin this day.

I spoke with my dad and my baby brother the day I got the biopsy results. My middle brother called today and we talked for a long time. He asked all the right questions and gave me all the comfort I needed and it felt so good.

Cancer can either tear a family apart or mend it. I have so many people behind me, here on earth and my angels who have passed on before me. I certainly don’t feel invincible, but I do feel cherished.

Day Twenty-one or Twenty-two – Thursday and Friday

I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but our marriage is tense. This has made it even more tense. The same man who went with me to every appointment, CT scan, and chemo treatment has not even been in town for anything so far. I wonder if he is trying to hide from this because he is so scared, or if he is just tired of all of it. I honestly can’t blame him. I guess I included this little piece of personal information to let you know that not everything will go smoothly – the treatments may go horribly wrong, or the diagnosis may not be as promising as you hoped, or your spouse may decide that it’s just too much.

What I have to decide now is what’s best for me. Not him, not my friends, or my kids, but me. It’s my time to be totally selfish. If I am going to make it through this, I have to be the strongest I can be and I can’t have anyone around me who isn’t willing to give me 100% of their emotional self. No self doubts, no criticisms, no threats, no promises that can’t be kept. I need honesty, support, and love without conditions.

My GYN calls me to offer support and tell me he would have referred me to the doctor I am seeing on Monday. The call is uplifting.

Day Twenty-three – Saturday

I drove to Phoenix to pick up my husband and had a little talk with myself on the way up. I said in my mind over and over again what I would say to him and I felt good about the conversation. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but I was sure what I was going to say.

Funny how nothing ever goes the way you rehearsed. Sometimes it goes even better.

Our conversation didn’t turn into a fight, like I pictured it in my head, but a release. I released all the feelings of hurt and fear. He released all the scenarios he had been thinking about, but not sharing. We both felt better and I knew he was, once again, totally in my corner.

Day Twenty-four – Sunday

Football day! We watched and ate and laughed and snuggled just like normal people do. Every once in a while the 500 pound elephant would rear its ugly head, but we would just glare at it and it would slowly leave the room. 

Today was not the day for talking or thinking. Today was the day for enjoyment of food and our favorite sport. One of our teams won and one lost. One is going to playoffs and one is going home. Well, you just can’t have everything.

I feel fine, physically. The bruises from my biopsy have healed. I have no pain anywhere, except the normal “I’m an old lady and I creak” pain. That doesn’t go away – ever. But if I didn’t know that I had Cancer growing in my breast, I wouldn’t know it. I feel perfectly normal and as healthy as I have felt for about 2 years. The same things blast around in my head: I need to lose weight. I need to exercise more. I need to go to the dentist. I need to find a job so I can go to the dentist. On Tuesday, I need to pay the bills. Normal stuff.

But I do know about the Cancer and it creeps into my thoughts constantly. Tomorrow’s appointment will tell us a lot – probably a lot we don’t want to hear. I have to think that it will be the next step towards getting better, but I’ve been here before, and before you get better – there’s a lot of getting worse. I’m not looking forward to that.

Tomorrow will change everything.

First Visit with my new Surgeon

Day Twenty-five – Monday

My appointment to see the “boob” doctor was at 4:30, so Randy and I hung out and tried not to show each other just how nervous we really were. I had already filled out the paperwork and the doctor had already ordered my test results, so everything was in place for our first conversation with the man who would be taking care of me.

It went well. We both like him. He is thorough, understanding, and talks a mile a minute. But he explains everything in laymen’s terms – in a way that we both don’t feel stupid. He does a breast and lymph node exam (he warmed up his hands before he did the exam) and then another sonogram. Then we talk. Well he talks, we listen, we ask questions, he answers them.

Here’s what we know for sure:

1.       The core biopsy on the calcifications shows a small focus of atypical duct hyperplasia and are suspicious for a microscopic focus of ductal carcinoma in-situ.  In other words, probably cancer, but a very low staging, like a 0.

2.       The left breast mass show infiltrating ductal carcinoma of breast, measures 5MM, involves 3 of 4 cores submitted, Nottingham histologic grade III of III, Modified Black’s nuclear grade 3 of 3. In other words, this cancer is an angry one.

3.       The HER2/NEU test is not back yet. I don’t know much about this, but apparently it will decide if I need chemotherapy or not. (Internet research needs to be done on my part, so I understand more.)

4.       The doctor says he knows that doing a lumpectomy will not be successful as there are 3 separate sites. Even though he didn’t say it, we are convinced that I will be having a Mastectomy.

5.       The possibility of a double Mastectomy and reconstruction still exists because of my history with cancer. I like to refer to this procedure as an “Angelina Jolie” because it is more preventative than anything else.

6.       The doctor wants an MRI which scares me more than anything because I am ubberclaustrophobic and, since I will be lying on my stomach, they won’t just sedate me for it. Oh, goodie!

7.       He also wants me to see an oncologist because of my history and to get that person on the team early in case we need to have chemo and to see if there are any other tests that need to be done.

So, now I wait for phone calls and appointments to be made. I will do some more research.

Randy leaves tomorrow for work and I’m not sure when he’ll return. Our next appointment with the “boob” doctor is January 20^th. Hopefully, he’ll have all his answers so we can all make a decision as to how to proceed.

Happy New Year!

Day Twenty-Seven – Wednesday – New Year’s Day

I decide to carry on my tradition of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls and the Rose Parade. The tube of rolls was being very difficult. The outer paper just wouldn’t come off. After several times of beating it against everything in my kitchen, I decide to use a knife. DON’T DO THIS – EVER! The knife slips and goes into my hand between my thumb and finger. I grab the first thing I can – paper towels - and head for the sink. I let cold water run over the wound and it is not stopping the bleeding, but it did clean out the wound. I slap the paper towels on it and wonder how I’m going to drive myself to the emergency room, because it obviously needs stitches.

I’m in my pajamas, so I go back to my room to change clothes and go. Then I sit on my bed and cry. I can’t drive myself because this won’t stop bleeding. How can I change my clothes? Who do I call? It’s 7 in the morning and I don’t know my neighbors well enough to go knocking on their door with a paper towel wrapped around my hand in my jammies.

So, I call my sister-in-law Darla. She doesn’t answer. Then I call my sister-in-law Boneda and find out how horrible her night was. Before I even finish my conversation with Boneda, her husband Robert is dressed and on his way to my house. I change my clothes, run a comb through my hair, turn off the oven and the coffee pot, and let the dog out. I also have to get a new paper towel before this one is soaked through. Robert arrives.

Darla, in the meantime has called. I have talked with Randy. Darla decides that the Urgent Care center across from her is the best place and she will meet us there as she just got out of the shower and her hair is wet. Okie, dokie. Robert drives me there and it’s not open until 9. It’s now 8:30. So Darla takes me to the Marana Urgent Care that is not open today at all. At this point, we are both laughing about the stupidity of having Urgent Care facilities that are not open except during regular business hours.

We go back to the original place, the doors open and I’m whisked away into a room immediately. The bleeding had stopped until the nurse (really wonderful woman who recently lost her husband to lung cancer) started to clean the wound. More bleeding.

But all this was nothing compared to the shots the doctor did to numb me before the stitches. I have tattoos and I’m not afraid of needles, but DAMN this hurt.

Finally numb and stitched, cleaned up and bandaged – I pay my co-pay and Darla and I head for the bathroom. I have injured my left hand so I think it’s no big deal. Not so. It’s hard to wash one hand when the other one is useless. I found out just how much I needed my left hand by the end of day.

Darla took me to the grocery store for a couple of things and then home. I was feeling better and grateful that all those wonderful people came to my rescue. I know Randy felt awful that he was so far away, but he trusted that his family would take care of me.

I do hope, with all my heart that the rest of our year goes better than the first day. Time will tell.

Day Twenty-eight – Thursday

I am just going to spend the day watching TV and resting my hand. Boring, right? But the most normal thing that has happened in the last 2 months. Love it.

Day Twenty-nine – Friday

I guess you’ve noticed by now that not much has been actually done about my cancer. I learned quickly from the first time I had cancer that it is a game of waiting. Doctors don’t much trust their instincts anymore because of litigation, so they order every test in the world. And, as a patient, I have the right to deny taking the tests, but there is always the little voice in the back of your head that says “What if?”. What if I don’t do the breast MRI and they find way more during surgery? That’s easy; they can take care of it once I’m all opened up. I hate waiting. I just want them to do the surgery already. But, as Randy told me, I’m not going to be a happy person the first time I look in the mirror and the scars where my boobs used to be. But the longer I wait, the more scared I become and that could mean greater anxiety and less good feelings.

I’m still waiting for the HER2/NEU test results. I’ll call on Monday.

Today I ventured out of my hole and went shopping. I took a shower and it felt so good. Clean hair, clean person, out the door. I quickly realized that pushing a shopping cart with a cut between your thumb and finger isn’t much fun and my hand was telling me this trip could have waited one more day or so. But there are things to be done and places to go, so I venture forth. Too bad I don’t have a bag boy to unload my car when I get home.

Randy is still out on the road with lousy loads and pending bad weather. I try not to worry, but that’s almost impossible. Too much worry in my life and not enough good vibes. Gotta get some good vibes.

As I was falling asleep, I realized that I haven’t called the American Cancer Society. I need to do that tomorrow and find a group. It truly does help to talk with people who have been there or people who are going through what you are.