My appointment was scheduled with Dr. Hodgson, Breast Cancer Surgeon Specialist. OF course I googled her. They wrote about her in the Toronto papers, the Spectator and a few others praising her work with Breast Cancer surgeries. Phrases like "leading the way" and "pioneer" and all that. I wasn't sure if I got an appointment with her because I got lucky or because my case warranted the best. I still don't know. I've only seen her once.
I checked into Clinic D...which is where the cancer people go. Beside chemotherapy, which I hadn't seen yet. I think they tuck them away a little more...but I wasn't sure. I was looking around for people who looked like they had cancer. It was hard to tell...but one thing was for sure, there weren't too many smiles. Well I shouldn't say that, the nurses and support staff were all very nice. Like OVERLY nice. It made me uneasy. But I figured I deserved it. Maybe they were nice because my eyes were puffy from crying all the time and my nerves were frayed and I looked like a fragile little bird that had fallen from a rooftop.
Jason was never farther than two steps away from me and held my coat and my hand and my stuff and generally put up with me with the grace of a trained crisis worker. He spoke softly and did the ridiculous things I asked even though I know he normally would've said they didn't make sense. He was scared too...but you wouldn't have known it. As I've said before and will continue to say. He is the one that keeps me from indulging my tendencies to dramatize and awfulize and cry and cry and cry. When I go to the dark places, and cry about my babies being without me - because that really is the scariest part - it's Jason that is there. Telling me it's going to be ok. Just like he was in Clinic D while we sat now in the little waiting room.
The Dr's resident surgeon came in and started to explain my results to me...so QUICKLY.
-I have ER+ PR+ possibly HER2+ breast cancer.
-It has spread to my lymph nodes, which means it is called "locally advanced"
-I will be having chemotherapy first called "neoadjuvant chemotherapy" it will be aggressive.
-I will then be having surgery...hopefully I've recovered from chemo to withstand surgery. I will need to wait a month for my body to be barely capable to heal.
-Surgery will most certainly involve removing my lymph nodes in my dominant arm, called a radical axillary dissection
-They likely wont be able to save my right breast so a radical mastectomy is also likely
-After the surgery I will be having radiation treatments
-IF i am HER2+ I will then be having Herceptin treatment for a further year
-I will then have hormone therapy.
Everything you just read was said to me in under 3 minutes.
I tried to ask some questions, like "what do you mean HER2+ possibly"? She said that it showed a score of 2+ and they needed a 3 or higher to determine that the cancer had receptors for the HER2 protein. A type of protein that makes the cancer much more aggressive. She said they had to do further testing and I would know in a week or two...but because Christmas is coming...maybe not for 3.
I asked her if it's in my lymph nodes how do you know it's not other places? She said that they don't.
Breast cancer typically spreads first to three or four places...the bones, the lungs, the brain and the liver. My next steps would be
1) A chest x-ray - to rule out lung cancer
2) A bone scan - to rule out bone cancer
3) A complete abdominal ultrasound to rule out cancer in the abdomen, and organs therein
4) An MRI to get a more clear picture of the bastard in the boob, lymph spread and whatnot.
The surgeon then came in and felt my breast, measured the tumor with an measuring tape, said it felt about 4-5cm (which is NOT small) and then proceeded to reiterate all that the resident had said.
I had so many questions in my head. I was writing everything down...but I couldn't compute it all fast enough. I think she could see this and said..."let's just wait for all the staging to come back, in the meantime you need to meet with the Medical Oncologist have these tests and meet with the Medical Radiologist".
Then she said she'd see me two weeks into my first chemo session to see how the cancer was responding and she was gone.
I think the resident (Dr. Rashid) could see I was stunned so she just told me that they needed more information on the cancer and it takes time but because of the holiday, it would take a little more....and that there was nothing they could do. And I should try to just enjoy Christmas.
Enjoy Christmas. Like....really???
Fuck.
At least I was done all my shopping and had already wrapped all the presents.
My chest xray happened the next day. Of course I didn't get the results right away. I had to wait. Days. I was getting better at waiting...I remember waiting to find out if I had cancer and when I did I kind of wished I had another day without knowing. But that's silly. Of course I need to know.
By now I had found (with the help of the cancer clinic) a Dr. in Hamilton who takes cancer patients who don't have family doctors yet. A lovely man. He called me in to tell me that my lungs were clear of cancer. Dodge bullet 1. Tiny victory. I also discovered that when medical professionals find out you have cancer, they tend to do a little more for you. I think this is because no matter who you are. Cancer is scary. Even if you're a world class Oncologist. You don't want it. And pity those who have it.
My nice new Dr. told me my appointment with the medical oncologist was Dec 30. That was 2 weeks away....so basically, I would sit with cancer, not knowing what kind, or if it was spreading quickly or where it was....for weeks. For the entire Christmas holiday.
I asked for more Ativan. He didn't hesitate.
He told me the same as the other Doctors had, "try to enjoy Christmas". Not enjoy like I'd previously done, with cured meat, glutinous bread, pasta, sugar, booze and all kinds of troublesome foods. I knew it meant...there's nothing else I can say.
I used to say "it's not what you eat between Christmas and New Years that matters, it's what you eat between New Years and Christmas"...while this still holds true for the average person...it no longer did for me. I now had to starve my tumor. And I was starting immediately. Green juices and intermittent fasting. No whites, no dairy, sugar, bread, no red meat, no eggnog, no pasta. Whole foods, lots of plants, very little of much else.
Also...when someone tells you to try to enjoy something it makes it even harder. Like when someone tells you to relax. It's not a good approach. Not for me anyway. I started to dread Christmas. And I started to feel guilty because my babies were looking forward to it so much. I didn't know how I was going to get the joy.
At some point in the next day or two I got a call from the Nuclear Imaging Department and I had to go for my bone scan. When I was having the bone scan I started crying, and the technician asked me if I was ok. I told her I didn't want to wait until after Christmas to know if I had bone cancer. She squeezed my hand and said "I don't know for sure and I'm not a radiologist..but this looks like a normal bone scan to me...and she winked" Another wink.
Then she told me to just "enjoy my Christmas".
I got dressed and went home and made dinner and picked my kids up from their last day at school....What else could I do?
What does any Italian do? Bake.
That's basically 1/3 of what I did over the course of a few days. I couldn't eat any of it but it made me feel a little better. We'd distribute it in the coming days to our new neighbours, the kids would enjoy that I thought.
Then I made some more and we decorated them together.
I tried so hard to smile and be happy for all of Christmas with my kids. We did all the things.
We decorated those cookies and I tried not to think about how many more Christmases I might have with them, or if this was the last "good" one. Or If I'd done enough in Christmases past to give them the memories they need. It was special to me, but it was also heartbreaking because I didn't and don't know. But really, none of us do. It made me realize this. And it made the cookies and the night a little more special, even though in this pic, I'm fighting back tears. My kids look happy. That's what matters here.
They called me on the 28th to tell me I don't have bone cancer. Another win.
We got through Christmas. Jason and my Mom taking over when I had to go into the bedroom and just pull myself together. And then I made a turkey dinner, because it was Christmas. My sister and brother in law drove with their son 9 hours to spend 6 days just sitting around my house with us. I tried to find the joy in the little things. My girls enjoyed Christmas. I truly believe that. It was hard for me to do, but it's what a parent does it's what family does. Christmas is not about us, it's about our children. It was actually a blessing that I had to focus on them all so much, it made the waiting a little easier.
I'm still waiting as I write this...Jan 5. Tomorrow I go for my ultrasound to find out if I have cancer in any of my organs. Then I go and see my Oncologist to discuss the chemo I start on Friday. The multitude of pills I'll need to take, and their potential side effects, the routine and what to expect.
I won't have the results of the ultrasound tomorrow, I'll have to wait. And try to "enjoy" the last few days with my family before I start chemo. School starts again tomorrow and it's back to business as usual for the rest of the world.
I forgot to make the lunches and the school bags are still in the dryer. I said that out loud as I was typing and Jason was falling asleep on the couch...and he said "I'll go get them and then I'll do the dishes, when this show is over babe you go to bed".
Normally, this wouldn't get me, but it did. I thought, that's what real love is.
Cancer is a big bad bitch that sucks joy and incites fear and ruins lives for sure...but it's also possible that cancer forces a person take a look at what they should enjoy, and what love is and what matters in everyday, not just a day like Christmas.
So in the morning I go for another test to rule out Stage IV cancer and I go see another Doctor but for tonight... I have two happy healthy kids and true love. I will hold on to that gratitude for the night, and hope it brings me strength for tomorrow.
It really is all I can do.
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