But I forgot, and by the time I got around to scheduling it, my appointment was March 24th. A Wednesday. The day Marc returned from almost 2 weeks away in Singapore and Australia. The day after Nathan's 21st birthday. Just an ordinary day.
And it was. My appointment was early afternoon, so as not to interfere with our after school stuff. As usual.
But instead of receiving a form in the mail, with the 'everything's OK' box checked, I received a phone call, the following Monday.
Monday March 29th.
First day of spring break. We were in the midst of painting eggs and lunching with the Smiths and Blankemeyers. Nick had gone to the allergist in the morning for testing, coming home with 32 pokes of varying size and redness. He was resting upstairs. The phone rang, and I was told that it was necessary to schedule a follow up mammogram, and ultrasound. During the day. When the doctors are there. So they could look at the images right away. (I should mention that I go to our local hospital's offsite location for my mammograms. close. easy parking. and you can't get lost inside the facility)
I hung up the phone and had to get back to eggs and lunch. With that familiar feeling of dread hanging over me. Worried. Anxious. The 'what ifs' racing through my mind.
However, it was spring break, so ultimately, our busy week dulled that dread. Nick headed to the shore on Wednesday with his friends (and parents of course!) Gaby and I were occupied with her book club, sleepovers, the park, hanging with friends, the things we do when there's no school. So my anxiety diminished, not to return til the night before my appointment.
Wednesday, April 7th.
Mammogram 1:30, Ultrasound 2:20. The usual, no deodorant, perfume, etc. I go to a Breast Centre for my mammograms. The people there deal with this all the time. Every day. They're professionals. And they're all women. From the first sympathetic and supportive look I received from the registrar who realized that I had indicated my most recent mammogram to have been two weeks prior, I actually felt better. No pity, just understanding. Concern. Support.
I brought a book to pass the time, but once we got started, there wasn't too much down time. Mammogram. Tackle a few pages. Ultrasound. A couple more pages. Listen to the radiologist's findings and recommendation. A biopsy. Whoa. Now we're moving along to the next step. Definitely not routine anymore.
The radiologist explains I will be scheduled for an ultrasound guided biopsy. Same facility. My doctor requests that his patients be fast-tracked. As opposed to non-fast-tracked, which I can't understand the need for. I'm given the names of 5 breast surgeons that my doctor would recommend. I choose the lone female in the group, not for that reason, but because she's the only one located in an office offsite. Away from the hospital. And I do notice that her business cards, sitting amongst a sea of doctors' cards, are in the big box they come in, almost empty, as opposed to the others in regular little business card holders. So I figure she must also be the choice of many.
I have a nurse assigned to me. Her name is Anne. She tells me that I will leave, with my biopsy scheduled, as well as a pre-procedure appointment with the breast surgeon. Standard procedure. The doctor will have to look at my films, which I'll also leave with, to decide if she's in agreement with the biopsy.
Anne sets up the biopsy appointment for the 14th. One week. She's has to duck out to the adjacent room to set up the doctor appointment, as there's no phone where we are. After a bit of back and forth to confirm my personal information and schedule, she comes back with an appointment for me, for Monday the 12th.
Anne tells me they do 7 or 8 biopsies daily at this facility. Eighty percent of them are benign. She had one herself last year. She leaves her last name and number among the papers in my pink folder that comes home with me. Along with my films.
Anne tells me I can call that number if I have questions. She checks messages several times a day.
Despite facing the next step, I feel better than when I woke up that day. The people who work at places like this deserve so much more recognition than they get. They are so very kind and supportive. They have mastered steps and procedures that leave their patients feeling well taken care of and reassured.
Monday, April 12th.
Appointment with the breast surgeon. She confirmed the need for the biopsy, made sure my questions and concerns were addressed, and we agreed we would talk again once the results were in her hands. I should mention here that the lump in question, though 1.5 cm , couldn't be detected by the doctor. Or me.
Wednesday, April 14th.
We had tickets for the Lion King the night before, so I knew I could count on Marc to be home to put Gaby on the bus. My appointment was at 8, but I was to be there at 7:30. Again, no deodorant, perfume. I know the drill.
Details aren't necessary, except to note that Anne held my hand throughout the procedure, advising me to squeeze if the pain was too much. The possibility of excessive pain is at the beginning, the needle they use to administer the lidocaine, novocaine, whichever it was. It didn't really take that long. I think my recovery took longer. It might have been the fact that I didn't take the time to eat anything that morning, or it could have been stress. In any case, I was actually light headed and a bit delirious when I was allowed to sit up. So I was provided with peanut butter crackers and fruit punch, which did help.
I left with strict instructions to apply ice packs, restrict phyical activity, avoid baths, and leave the bandage on for at least 5 days. I was very uncomfortable that first day, stayed in a sports bra day and night for those 2 days following, and developed some attractive brusing. I also left with the knowledge that the results would be provided to the doctor that Friday, Monday for sure. Anne suggested I call the doctor's office Friday afternoon, as there's a good chance they'll have the results and may not get around to calling.
The biopsy was done on a Wednesday, and Gaby stayed home sick Thursday and Friday. Normally that's fine.A sick child needs lots of cuddles. Normally that's fine too. But she always seems to snuggle in on my left side. Which is now my bad side.
At this point, my children know nothing and that's the way I want it. And that's a whole other post. So this was the start of concealing it from them.
Which is why I waited til 2:30 on Friday to call my Dr.'s office. Nick gets home at 2:45, so I wanted to be alone in my reaction to whatever news I would receive.
I sat down at the island in the kitchen at 2:30, phone in one hand and my trusty pink folder in the other. Pen and paper at the ready.
The receptionist answers, puts me on hold, the doctor picks up and gives me life changing news: "there is a finding that must be dealt with" .
In the next two sentences, in what context I can't recall, the words "breast cancer". We set up an appointment for Monday morning, 8:30, to plan our attack. I receive assurances that it is treatable and there's no reason to think otherwise.
Friday, August 16th. It's confirmed. I have breast cancer.
No comments:
Post a Comment