MEMOIR EXCERPT
CHAPTER 1
Week 1 / Day 1 – August 20, 2007
The call came; the words didn’t need to be spoken as I held the phone. I knew the diagnosis. I didn’t know the extent but at the first mention of cancer came the balloon of fear. With each escape of air another uncertainty appears. Maybe if I hold my breath I can save myself from the prognosis. Hold time still. Don’t move.
Day one of diagnosis came on a Monday. Those first moments after the call etched a corrosive fear inside my head and throughout my entire being. I received the call from the imaging center doctor who had performed the biopsy. Fortunately I was sitting down when she said I tested positive for breast cancer because feeling vanished from my body. All the cliché’s became real. My legs turned to rubber, my breath shallowed, my heart raced, and numbness swallowed me. I asked what I could ask but the questions were limited: how big, how bad, what kind, what do I do?
I’m not sure I heard anything specific other than she said I had cancer. She eased some of my anxiety by telling me she thought she removed almost the entire lump. What I know now is that really means very little because I’d eventually have my entire breast removed, but at that moment I felt some relief. For a brief period I had the perception that if cancer was removed and it measured small then voila everything is fine. She may have told me the specific diagnosis but I heard nothing but cancer. When I asked what we do next she said I’d need to speak with my primary care physician and then find an oncologist. I was shocked to find out that I would not be working any more with her or this clinic. They are a diagnostic center only. I had never considered what that meant if they ever diagnosed cancer. I was on my own. That brings with it both good and bad. The bad is the all-consuming fear that squeezed my thoughts to distraction until I finally could contact my primary care physician. I wanted someone to fix it and take care of me just like when I was a child. Parents could fix anything. I wanted that. The good comes from realizing I had to take care of myself. I couldn’t just sit back and wait for someone to kiss it and make it better. I had to help myself. I needed “brain surgery.” The first of that came when she told me the one thing I desperately needed to hear before we hung up. She said she believed my cancer would be just an inconvenience for a year and then life would return to normal. It wasn’t until we saw the oncologist that I received an involved diagnosis.
My primary care physician recommended a breast surgeon in Denver. We saw the surgeon within the week. She talked about the diagnosis but I was more focused on the options she presented: lumpectomy, single mastectomy or double mastectomy and what that meant from her perspective. Not one of the choices left me without disfigurement. However, she recommended an oncologist for us to see to learn more about my diagnosis so I could make a better decision about surgery.
We left her office and walked to the cancer clinic in the hospital across the street. The oncologist offered to meet with us after his last scheduled appointment. In the meantime we walked to another building to set up time with a recommended plastic surgeon to talk about reconstruction. She saw us within the hour and spoke of cancer from her perspective as a doctor and as a breast cancer survivor. In many ways I was overloaded with too much information for one day but we did it because of sense of urgency and the fact we live four hours away. We decided to try to work our way in and see all of the doctors during this same day.
We went back to the oncologist to wait for our turn. He’s the one that really interpreted the diagnosis. Jim wrote his words down as we listened. I really avoided hearing too much for fear that I might jinx myself with my own fear. There are posters of the different stages of breast cancer in each office. I didn’t want my cancer to be the worst so I chose not to focus on stage and size. I heard I was sort of in the middle. I’ve always preferred the middle. It’s safer. I’m protected on each side like when you’re called alphabetically to do something. I wasn’t first and I wasn’t last. I didn’t realize till just now how heavily that belief plays out in my life. I know I had what is called in-situ and I also invasive breast cancer. I have chosen to ignore the invasive because it sounds worse. I had a Her-2 element as well as the cancer being estrogen positive. The oncologist spent an hour and a half with us repeating answers to questions and building us up into a belief in my survivorship. He tossed out statistics to confirm how each different treatment from lumpectomy to bilateral mastectomy to varying kinds of chemo concoctions would affect the percentage of cure. We listened and then asked again when we couldn’t quite understand. He never once made me feel like we were taking up his time and he managed to make us feel like we were in control of helping me. He was amazing. He is the factor that didn’t turn up in his statistics. His ability to know my psychological needs even above my physical needs made the difference.
