Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

Dr C called this afternoon with some test results. I'm negative for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes, which is good news. The bad news is, the MRI showed three additional masses that need to be identified and biopsied. We go back to the hospital the day after tomorrow, which is when we were supposed to be schduling surgery. I'm anxious to get the show on the road.

The first week or so after my diagnosis, I didn't have much of an appetite and I slept a lot. At least, I slept as much as I could considering the schedule of medical appointments several days a week and working every night. After a week or so, things reversed on me. I haven't been sleeping well and I'm hungry ALL THE TIME. Mostly just for junk food, too. I was pretty self indulgent the first couple days but it's time to get myself back on track. I don't want to go into battle all sluggish from sugar and grease and too many reruns of M*A*S*H*.

Reality Check

I take my "lunch break" at a time when most people are heading to bed or watching Leno. I'm not really into Leno, so most nights I take a walk or bring a book into the lounge at work. Tonight, however, the book I'm in the middle of reached a disturbing passage about the author's mother not wearing panties when she tries on clothes at department stores. Ewwww. Why would anyone feel the need to share something like that? The worst part is, last night's revelation was worse. Anyway, someone had left the local paper on the table in the lounge, so I put the book back in my bag in favor of the hometown news section.

Big mistake. I know, right? What's worse than thinking about someone's mother going commando while you eat? Well, I'll tell ya:

As soon as I opened the newspaper I saw the obituaries, and at the center top was a picture of a pretty young woman who died at 34 of breast cancer. I recognized her name, sort of. I went to school with her husband's sisters. I think I remember her husband, though he was a little boy way back then.

My logical self reminds me that every cancer is different. There are different types of breast cancer, some more aggressive than mine. At this woman's age, it's not likely that she was getting mammograms, and probably didn't find her tumor until it was much bigger than mine. Unfortunately, the not-so-logical part of me isn't really listening.

Here's What Happened.....Part 4

My radiologist....what I can I say about Dr S? Her passion for womens' health was evident immediately. I had met her once before ~ last summer, when I was recovering from my hysterectomy, she performed a test at my follow up exam. Then, she struck me as very confident, very knowledgeable, and with a terrific sense of style. I know, I shouldn't be concerned with my doctor's wardrobe but this is a fairly small city. We are definitely shopping challenged around here, at least in my price range. I was laying on the exam table in a very unflattering and uncomfortable position when she breezed in and my first thought was, I wonder where she shops? Yeah, I know. I need help.

So anyway, this time around Dr S came into the ultrasound room and immediately the tech became visibly nervous. While I wouldn't want to work for an intimidating boss, I would totally choose one to lead my team. Dr S took a quick look at the ultrasound screen, directing the tech toward the areas she wanted a closer look at. After just a few minutes she asked if that man waiting alone across the hall was with me, then sent the tech to bring him in.

While we were waiting for Walker, Dr S asked me when he'd had his stroke. To me, Walker's stroke isn't immediately evident unless he's really tired. Since he was sitting in a chair reading a magazine I had to wonder what Dr S had noticed, but I just answered her question and we moved on. By that time, I had a pretty good idea that Dr S had something to say. The official reason for getting Walker was that she wanted to make sure that he knew my appointment would be a drawn out affair, but I knew that if everything had checked out I would have been released after the ultrasound. Something was definitely up.

One of the things that I really appreciate about Dr S is her directness. As soon as I introduced Walker, Dr S looked me right in the eye and said, "There is an area of concern on your films that I need to biopsy, but I can tell you right now, with thirty years of experience, that I know the answer without the biopsy. It is cancer. You have cancer."

Here's What Happened.....Part 3

The radiology message requested that I call by four p.m. It was now 2:30. I decided I could still check my email and have plenty of time to call. But apparently the radiologist was on a mission, too. Ten minutes later they called back, asking me to come in at 8 the next morning. Since I'm a dumbass, I explained that I work nights and asked if there were any afternoon appointments available. I agreed to come in at 1:30 the next day.

I can't say that I was all that worried ~ see? Dumbass! To be fair, I read everything, including dozens of accounts of mammograms gone bad. I know that lots of suspicious films turn out to be no big deal - cysts, bad film, faulty equipment, even just uncertainty by the radiologist who reads the films. I told Walker that I had to go for a recheck and he offered to drive me. I think Walker was more concerned than I was.

I guess my first red flag was that my follow up was scheduled at the hospital, not my usual clinic. The next red flag came at my appointment, when the staff was practically waiting at the door for me. Though I was right on time, they told me the radiologist was asking for me, and wanted to know as soon as I got there.

Mammogram number two was not the digital variety, and involved different views than the first time. Still not a bad experience. The tech literally ran out of the room with the films and I was escorted down the hall for an ultrasound. Red flag number three. At this point, everyone was still referring to the "density" on my films. That was about to change.

Here's What Happened.....Part 2

The clinic I go to uses digital mammography. Can I tell you ~ I do not know what the big deal is. I went to my scheduled appointment, I presented my girls to the technician, they were smushed into the machine for about three seconds, I got dressed and left. No fuss, no muss, no whining. Don't get me wrong ~ it wasn't exactly fun, but it was literally about twelve minutes out of my life. While I wouldn't want to have a mammo every day, I decided I could certainly do this once a year. I felt like a total weinie for avoiding it for so long. The tech told me that a radiologist would read the films and send me a letter if everything was fine. If not, they would call. Walker met me for dinner at a nearby Chinese buffet and then I went to work.

A couple days later, I was outside with the dogs when the mail chick came by. I decided that I would scan my "all clear" letter and blog about the experience, so any other weinies who were avoiding getting scanned might think twice. How awesome would it be to help someone get a scan that might just save their life?

But there was no letter in the mail. Hmmm. Usually the clinic is lightning quick on testing procedures. Well, I decided, the letter will come tomorrow. If there was something wrong I'd have gotten a call by now. I called the dogs and we went back into the house. At the computer, I started logging into my email when I saw the message icon on my cell phone. Playing the message, my heart sank. The radiologist wanted me to call. As soon as possible. Ruh-roh.

Here's What Happened.....Part 1

It started innocently enough. I had an annual checkup with my family medicine doctor, which went really well. My blood work was fine, I've lost a little weight, I feel fantastic these days. I was just about to make a clean getaway when she stopped me and asked how long it had been since my last mammogram.

Ruh-roh. I'd never had a mammogram. And I didn't want to get one now. But I have tremendous respect for my doctor, and she was on a mission. So I let her talk me into it. Reluctantly, I went out to the appointment desk and requested a mammogram. The whole time I'm thinking, I can cancel this. I really don't need to do this....but then the appointment chick tells me, they can take you right now. Ruh-roh.

So she leads me back to Radiology and I sit. I take the copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" out of my bag and read the passage where the Indonesian medicine man does a ceremony to remove the curse of a baby born on Thursdays. Seems babies born on Thursdays have nothing but bad luck. It occurs to me that I was born on a Thursday, and I get a little irritated at the whole passage.

The appointment chick reappears to tell me that I can't get scanned, today, after all, and we go back to the appointment desk. She hands me a card to come back the next week and I leave to meet Walker for supper before I go to work.

Dreaming of Better Days

Last night, I dreamed about Disney World. For years I've wanted to stay at the Beach Club resort, but it is so, so expensive. Walker and I have made several trips to Orlando over the years but we always choose a budget motel. We can stay a week for the price of one night at the Beach Club. Seriously.

In my dream, I was walking the perfectly landscaped grounds of the Beach Club, admiring the pools and smelling the flowers. Everyone was so friendly. Then I realized, all the employees were people I had known through my life. Old friends who have slipped away, all dressed in Hawaiian shirts and working at the resort. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm not sure what the dream means, but I do think the time has come to plan a visit to the Beach Club. Who cares if we can only afford to stay two nights, LOL. I just want to go.