What happened next

In case you forgot where I left off start here

On Monday morning, the clock was too slow to make it to eight. Finally, I could call. I was lucky to get in the very next day. During the test, I just knew. I cried. I cried alone as the tech did what she needed to do. It felt like forever. And I just kept crying. My husband was sitting in the waiting room for me. After she finished, she didn’t have me get dressed, just told me to go into another room and my husband would be there. “Someone will be in”, she said. That someone was the doctor. He looked as if he wanted to turn around and run away from us. Trust me when I tell you the hair he had left was gray and this was not his first time delivering bad news. Yet, he had a look of fear and disbelief that will never leave my memory. “It’s bad, we just need to find out how bad.” Those were his first words. “Did you really just find this? The mass is X centimeters. And you really just felt this last week?” When pressed how they knew from an ultrasound that it was bad and what was next, he was confident. We were to stay the entire day and get a mammogram and biopsy.

Did I mention I was just shaking and crying at this point? Bedside Manner 101 was obviously long ago in his training. So, he quickly departed and left a nurse to explain what she could about what would happen next. I vaguely remember the mammogram. The nurse made a lot of small talk and told me about her family. Her daughters. Her grandchildren. She was sweet. I do not remember being overly concerned about the pain and discomfort that is that standard cliche people avoid going. I am being serious. If this is you, YOU, reading my blog, and you are afraid of the pain, listen to me, I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE VAGUEST MEMORY OF THINKING ABOUT IT! This was my first mammogram since I was not within standard of care guidelines to have an annual test done because of age, family history, and so on. It wasn’t a candle lit aromatherapy massage, but it was nothing to fear as a physical test itself.

And then they sent us home. I sat and cried on my sofa. My dearest friend called and I somehow told her what was going on. Finally we went back to the office and they did an ultrasound guided needle biopsy. Again, they explained, the results were in before the biopsy was even taken. We are just looking for the “personality” of the cancer. They were sure of it. I begged them to be wrong. They begged us to understand they weren’t often wrong. We made our appointment to get the results. And we left to wait.

But before our long day could end, we had one more doctor to see. One of my weekly appointments for our baby girl was scheduled as well that afternoon. Again, I cried as we saw the ultrasound on the screen. I cried, because they had no idea what to say to me. I cried, because I had no idea what I would ever say to her about these last weeks she would spend inside my belly. The belly where I was still responsible to keep her safe, but my body was betraying me.