The "C" Word

They say that writing is healing and so now it's time to start a healing process. 

After a few days of sunny disposition, my upbeat attidue actually, Jared confronted me last night (after R went to bed) because I foolishly left my planner open on the desk and he was doing homework, noticed that I had written MRI on one of the weekly pages. 

Eleven days ago when I first had the "C" word said to me, we decided not to tell Jared until after the pathology results came back--well not telling anyone for that matter--and then I decided to prolong that conversation until the weekend, so that he had a couple days to digest.  I tried putting him off last night, but he told me that he looked back and saw the word biopsy written down last Friday and Dr. Rasmussen's name written down in the forthcoming week. 

What's going on mom?

We had the talk.  Dang.  Too soon, and on a school night too, when he should be in bed sleeping and not crying.  Dang. Dang. Dang. 

I have breast cancer.  Officially, I cannot have that diagnosis until I get the phone call today telling me the results of the biopsy, but we know. 

Three weeks ago this Thursday (it's now Tuesday morning), I woke up and stretched, felt a tightness in my chest, reached down and felt a hard lump.  Hmmm?  Called my OB/GYN here in Riverton who was gone but her MA set me up w/an appointment for the next day. 

Yup, that's a lump.  We'll get you in for a diagnostic mammo and maybe even an ultrasound, the first available appointment being a week later, the following Friday.  I've only been to this OB/GYN once before, this past spring.  I told her that I had a cyst in that same breast, same area verified on ultrasound seven years previously and was told when and if it started to grow that I could choose whether or not to drain it, all dependent upon comfort.  Note:  Cysts are benign fluid-filled sacs, very common in women's breasts.  In fact, breasts are notorious for lumps and bumps and the vast majority are benign.

During the week I wasn't even concerned.  After all, it was just that cyst which had grown, which previously had been unpalpable, only detected on a routine mammo.

Radiologist came in after the technician took my ultrasound following the mammo and took some more shots, jelled me up even on the opposite side of the breast where the lump was located.  I knew something was off when he didn't rush back to his work station after quickly telling me his confirmation of a cyst. 

"Margaret, what I see is tissue suspicious for cancer."  There, I heard that dreaded word.  Let's get you scheduled for a biospy, then proceeded to explain why and how a biopsy.  "Any questions?"

"Doctor, did the technician point out in my history that I had a cyst in that same location a few years back?"  (I was in denial and holding on to this being a benign cyst). 

"Yes, but it's not a cyst.  Cysts show up as dark spots on ultrasound.  Besides, cysts are regularly shaped, generally round.  This is irregularly shaped."

I found myself at the Quilted Bear, had a coupon in my pocket 'cause I was going to buy Erica her wedding present post "cyst diagnosis" on my way home.  I had gone shopping pre Erica's wedding, found what I wanted, but R was badgering for a gift card.  Too impersonal said I.  We didn't get anything for her wedding and now it was time to purchase and mail.  I walked to the aisle where it should have been, but it was gone, checked the aisle on either side.  The tears were building and then I saw someone I knew walk in the front door...can't have her see me cry.  Hurredly left the store and sobbed in my car.

Sobbing seemed to be the order of the day.  I sobbed in R's arms when I got home, told him that it wasn't a cyst.  That's all that really needed to be said.  He was packing for a campout at Crystal Hot Springs with the Priests and Teachers.  I assured him that I would be fine home alone, in fact needed to be alone so that I could nurse the opened wound and didn't want to hide from Jared.  It was a sleepless night, an awful night, tossing and turning, finally watching a movie in the middle of the night, returning to bed and stared at the ceiling, falling asleep as the morn was breaking, sleeping for a couple hours only. 

Last Thursday it all became real again, as the hospital called for preadmittance info and then Dr. Bowman called me in the afternoon.  I didn't expect that.  She had the copy of the "abnormal" mammo on her desk and said that she was leaving town for the week but wanted to talk to me.  Almost first question out of her mouth, "Are you sleeping?" 

I admitted my anxiety and its influence on my sleep.  We talked of ways to help.  We talked of names of physicians.  We talked of lots of thinks and she didn't rush me to finish the conversation.  I am very grateful of the time that she took to call.  She, of course, was reminding me that the results were not back.  However, I think she knew.  It was good to have her talk to me, a real good bedside manner.  I feel that she truly cares, but it did set me off in tears and R came home then.  We had a deep talk and I told him that I wasn't trying to be negative, but my gut feeling is that I do have cancer, that this is not a benign mass.  He nodded.  I think he knew, too.  I told him of my fears, my trouble sleeping.  He told me honestly that he didn't know of how severely it was affecting me.  I also sobbed that I was weak and terribly afraid of the biopsy itself, not what the results would show, but simply the core extractor, having my skin cut to insert and that I would be awake.  I'm such a wimp.  I was over-the-top afraid.  He didn't beride me, but helped me.

The next day he gave me a blessing, which I knew would help, and it did help calm me.  The biopsy was scary, but in retrospect not as bad as I had imagined.  I had heard horror stories about extreme pain, swelling and bruising.  After the lidocaine shot, I had no pain.  I've had no swelling and the bruising is minimal. 

The radiologist and technician, after I explained my extreme fear, were very helpful.  Bless their souls.  The radiologist suggested that it helps to look at the screen rather than close the eyes.  He was right.  He pointed out the white line (the needle) as it moved through the breast tissue during the numbing procedure.  At first I didn't want to look, but he said it was fascinating.  He kept try to bring me to his side, that it was all interesting and not horrific. 

He told me that he agreed with the radiologist the week previous, that the breast tissues look like cancer and that he also agreed that I need an MRI (I didn't know that the previous pathologist had recommended an MRI).  He told me that we should schedule all this prior to my leaving that day, also an appointment with a surgeon.  Ee-gads.  It's real.  He wants me to see a surgeon.  Of course, he tempered it with there is the possibility of a negative report, however he interpreted cancer.  He even said, "you will most likely get the pathology results back by Tuesday afternoon, you can have the MRI on Wednesday and Thursday be in to the surgeon.  We should get moving on this." 

Turns out that the surgeon which Dr. Bowman recommended (though she recommended a couple others, a lady surgeon at LDS and the surgeon at Riverton she also felt was very good) can't see us until Feb. 14 (yup, Valentine's Day, sucks, sucks, sucks).  It is Dr. Rasmussen.  Turns out this is the same surgeon who did R's hernia some years back.  It feels right to have him, and so we will wait. 

Jared told me last night that I'm his best friend and he doesn't want to lose me.  Oh, that breaks my heart.  He was fighting the tears as I dropped him off at school, told me how much he loved me.  I cried all the way home.  I wish he didn't have to go through this.  Dang me for leaving that planner open.  He shouldn't have this on his mind while at school.  I love that guy so much and I wish he had his brothers home or a best friend with whom to talk. 

Alas, I await the phone call this afternoon giving me the pathology results. 

Life can play some cruel jokes.