D-Day to Day 3.

It's 8:27 on Sunday night which means that tomorrow...Monday, is almost finally here.  Monday is the day that I have been waiting for since D-Day.  Monday is the day that couldn't come fast enough, especially with the lovely extra hour that the end of daylight savings time forced upon me.  Monday is the day that I learn what Grade 1 Mammary Ductal Carcinoma actually means...besides what I already know it to mean:  
Breast Cancer.

It is totally surreal to even type those two words and feel that now I have to take ownership of them.  But I do.  I have BREAST CANCER.  D-Day, or diagnosis day, was three days ago on November 1, 2013...ironically, the day after the last day of "Pinktober."  I was really hoping that I would get the results from Wednesday's biopsy before the weekend came, so when I saw that it was my doctor calling at 2:50p.m. on Friday afternoon, I was so relieved!  She would tell me that the two lumps I found in my right breast were what everyone expected them to be: benign fibroadenomas; and that I could go ahead and enjoy the rest of the weekend.  I KNEW that was what she would say.  It was what she suspected, what the radiologist suspected, what I KNEW would be true.  

"Hi Lindsay, it's Dr. Gurushanthaiah, how are you?"

(Cheerfully) "Hi Dr. Guru!  I'm fine, how are you?"

Josh and I were actually in the middle of loading up our car to head to his parents' home in Temecula for the weekend to celebrate all of our family's October birthdays, so I was in the garage, on my cell phone, putting my diaper bag in the car. Josh was carrying Harper with one arm and loading our suitcases into the trunk with the other, before we were off to pick Mia up from school and get on the road.  

"I'm well.  We got the results of your biopsy.  So, do you have a few minutes to talk about the results?"

HEART STOP.

"Yes."

I walked to the back of the car and looked at my husband.

"The pathology report came back and it did actually come back positive for breast cancer."

"WHAT????"

I looked Josh in the eye and he knew.  Oh my God.  My hand went to my mouth as I tried to decipher the other words that she was speaking to me...appointments, breast surgeon, MRI...she just kept talking and I was trying to remember to breathe.  The tears came.  The adrenaline started rushing through me as I tried to keep my head about me.  My hands and then entire body began to shake.

Ok, she is trying to tell me important information.  Listen, Lindsay.  You need to hear this.  
By the end of our 8 minute conversation, I came away with this information:  At 32 years and nine days old, I have been diagnosed with mammary ductal carcinoma.  The cancer cells that they took from the 12 samples biopsied have been determined to be Grade 1.  I have an appointment with Dr. Mary Wilde, Breast Surgeon and Director of Scripps Polster Breast Care Center on Monday, November 4th at 1:45p.m.  I also should call to see if I can schedule an MRI, so I can get in as soon as possible.

OK.  Now I had to go pick up my daughter from school.  Coincidentally, this was the latest that my oldest daughter Mia had ever even stayed at school.  For weeks she had been asking if she could stay for "rest time," and Friday, November 1st was the day.  The day...and D-Day.  As Josh and I drive the 6 minutes to her school, I quickly try to relay the information that Dr. Guru told me, to my husband.  The look on his face makes the breaking of his heart seem almost audible.

Then, oh my gosh.  I ask him, "How am I going to tell my Mom?"  I call her.

"Hi Mom, what are you doing?"

She sounds slightly out of breath, "Well, I'm down here at the condo..."

She starts telling me about the various subcontractors she has just met with at her new downtown condo that she recently purchased and has begun renovating. Apparently, the floors are in, but things are a real mess. She sounds fairly pissed off and frustrated.

"Why, what are you doing?  Oh, did you get your results yet?"

"Yes."

"You did?  Well?"

Gasp. Breathe. And, as much as I try not to...cry. "I have breast cancer."    

Her response was exactly the same as mine when I heard the news.

"What???"

I tell my mom what I know.  I cry with her. She is frantic, and then composes herself as she tells me that I will be okay, that we will get through this.  I tell her that I have to pull myself together because we are picking Mia up from school.  She says she loves me, that she's leaving the condo now.  Do we have to go to Temecula this weekend?  I tell her no.  We plan to meet back at her house.  We arrive at Mia's school and Josh runs out of the car to go in to get her.  Harper sits happily oblivious in her car seat behind me, watching "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" on her iPad while I sit in the passenger seat and try to wrap my head around the earthquake that just hit my life.  Dr. Guru had told me to call Dr. Wilde's office for more information about my appointment.  I do and am on hold.  I text Josh to make sure he gets all of the extra "nap stuff" that I packed for Mia that day, because she is going to need her pillow back, and certainly can't leave her stuffed ladybug, "Bugsy" at school over the weekend.   

I'm still on hold waiting for Dr. Wilde's office to pick up.  I Google her name to see if there is another number to call.  I call that number.  I switch back and forth between the two calls and two different recorded hold time medleys that taut the excellence of the Scripps Family of Hospitals and remind me that I can sign up to access my medical records online.  Keep checking the sideview mirror to see if Josh is walking up with Mia yet.  Finally I see them.  I hang up the phone.  Take a deep breath.      

My little "big" girl looks sleepy.  Looks kind of dazed.  Josh straps her into her car seat.  

"How did it go?" I ask.

His smile is a relief.  "It went great.  She slept for over an hour and Mr. Royer had to shake her to wake her up.  She's still waking up I think."

Weird.  I feel the same way.

I rub Mia's leg, and ask her if she wants to go to Gaga's house.  She blinks a couple of times and nods yes.  

We pull in to my mom's garage and Josh gets the girls out of the car and leads them in the house.  I stay in the car and try to make my phone calls again.  I call the number Dr. Guru gave me to get my MRI scheduled.  More recorded options, more holding.  Finally, an operator picks up.  My voice shakes as I tell her that I just found out that I have breast cancer, that I have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Wilde, and that my OBGYN told me that I needed to call this number to schedule an MRI.

"So, are you wanting to get in before your appointment with Dr. Wilde on Monday?"

"Uh, sure, yeah...if I can?"

"Well, it's 3:27 on Friday, and your appointment is at 1:45 on Monday.  I don't really see that happening.  Hold on."

Lovely.

"Ok, I can get you in on Friday, November 8th."

I remember this part from trying to get my Dad all of his appointments after his diagnosis with Stage 4 Melanoma.  

"There isn't anything sooner?"

"Well, no.  Actually, this slot I have open is actually reserved for Dr. Wilde's office only...they normally are the ones that call.  So this is the soonest time available."

"Ok."

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"Yes.  Kinda.  I mean, it doesn't matter, I'll be fine if that's the soonest time, I'll be fine."

"Ok, good.  I need to ask you some screening questions and get some information from you."

I spell my first and last name for her.  Tell her that no, I don't have a pacemaker, or any other metal in my body.  Oh wait, except for those metal wire markers that they implanted in my two tumors at the time of my biopsy.  They told me that they wouldn't be a problem for anything down the road.  She tells me the address of the imaging center and where I need to go...I need to check in 20 minutes early.  Do I have any other questions?

"Uh, no."

"Ok, well...have a nice weekend."

Ha.  "Yeah. Right."  End call.  

Attempt #2 to call Dr. Wilde's office.  Now someone picks right up.  I confirm the details of my appointment with Dr. Wilde's scheduler, Renee.  She tells me that they will take care of scheduling all of my other appointments and any other tests I will need.  She tells me not to worry; they've "got me."  Dr. Wilde is the absolute best.  People from all over the country come to see her.  I'm in excellent hands.

Well, that's good.

I go inside my Mom's house and sit down on the floor with my girls as they play with the toys that my mom keeps set up for them in her living room.  Harper climbs on top of my lap and I hug her.

Eventually my mom walks through the door with my sister who she has already told and has left work to meet us.  I stand up, we hug.  Extra long hugs.  

After discussing what we know so far, I tell my mom and sister what Josh and I had already discussed before we got these results.  Funny that we even discussed it, because neither one of us had the slightest worry that we would even need to entertain the thought later.  I have no problem losing my breasts.  I will tell them to cut them off.  They can have them.  They have served me well, they fed my babies, and now they can have them.  More talk about what we are going to do, that I'm going to be fine.  We will get through this together.

After all of us catch our breath a bit, Josh and I decide that we are going to go to Temecula.  The car is already packed, the cleaning lady is at our house now anyway.  And, what are we going to do here at home this weekend?  Let's just stick with the plan.  I ask my Mom if she will be okay.  She tells me that she will be, and I kind of believe her.  I can see now that she is going to be strong for me.  She will force herself to be strong for me.  My sister is going to be strong for me...she was solid as a rock.  That is of course until I broke down and she wrapped her arms around me and cried on my shoulder.  But, the second I stopped crying, she did too.    

Josh and I get the girls into the car, and we drive.  We drive and hold hands...something we haven't done in a pretty long while.  It's usually pretty important for our hands to be free.  We need them to pass snacks into the back seat.  To start a new show on the iPad.  To check email on our phones, to text, to check facebook, or Pinterest. But now things are different because we are both scared.  I can see that my husband is in shock and he is scared.  I don't want to think about what HE is actually scared of...that thought is too scary for me to entertain right now.  Eventually he starts to cry.  He's so sorry that I have to go through this.  Why does this always happen to good people?  I laugh.  I wipe his tears.  This sucks.  We agree.  This sucks.  




This first journal entry could be a novel in itself, as I can see now that although it feels like the past three days have been a blur, I actually remember every second of every minute of every hour of every day.  Let me abbreviate by saying that we made it through the weekend with the help of my husbands' parents, his Mom's friend, Bev, our girls, and each other.  I also made it through with several phone calls to my mom during the quiet moments.  Phone calls and texts to and from friends, although difficult, helped also.  I am so thankful that we had the opportunity to slow down and break out of our normal routine, as we were wrapped in the love and support of family and friends.  Josh and I found the time to stop and hug each other.  To grab a hand or rub a shoulder when we needed.  To sneak off into a corner and ask each other "How is this happening?  Is this for real?"  After a totally sleepless night on D-Day, I am thankful for Tylenol PM that helped me sleep soundly through the second night.  I am thankful that today, Sunday, was better than Saturday.  My heart didn't race quite as much...there weren't as many silent panic attacks that snuck up on me, choking me and leaving my throat dry and my body shivering.  A few fewer heart palpitations and queasy spells today.  Mostly, Sunday was better than Saturday because it is one day closer to Monday, and Monday is the day that we learn more.  The day that we go into "battle mode" as my mom called it. 

I will be positive.  I am grateful for what I know right now...that the cancer cells they found are the least aggressive and slowest growing type.  I am eager to learn more.  I am prayerful and hopeful that I have caught this early, that the cancer is not ANYWHERE else.  But I know that regardless, this is NOT going to get me.  I will beat this.  Cancer can't have me.  I will be here for my girls, and will see them grow up.  NO OTHER OPTION.   

And now, goodnight.  My Tylenol PM is waiting for me.  When I wake up, it will be Monday.