Today is officially the best day after the worst day of my life.
D-Day was one week ago exactly. It was the day I learned the news that changed my life forever...and made me question if that life would last long enough for my youngest daughter to even remember who her mother was. For 7 days straight I have lived through a fog of sheer panic, shivering and strangling anxiety, forcing myself to eat with no appetite, trying to sleep through nightmares of being told that the cancer had spread to my bone (clavicles specifically), to my kidneys, to my heart even. Each day I woke up to find I had lost another pound...is that because I can't will myself to be hungry, or because the cancer is eating me from the inside out? That sharp pain I feel in my kidney...is that because of the gallons of water I have had to drink, along with the radioactive contrast I've had injected into my body for one diagnostic test after another, or is that the cancer trying to tell me that it's decided to spread throughout my lymphatic system? The mind-numbing headaches...are they because I've given up my daily coffee for fear of thinning my blood for surgery, or is that a tumor growing in my brain?
Wednesday was the day when things began to change...the thoughts were still there...the fear still there, but I began to get a handle on it. When the panic grabbed a hold of my throat, I could swallow...take a deep breath and tell myself that I wasn't going to choke. I could still breathe. That was because of the FAITH. From the day I was diagnosed, I had the hope that I would survive, and a certain amount of faith that I would survive...but the faith was small and timid. It was just a flicker of glowing light in a night that seemed so dark and uncertain. In sharing my diagnosis with family and close friends, their encouragement fueled the flame of faith even more. The glow helped me to walk through those first few days...guided me to start journaling my feelings, to come to an understanding of exactly what I was feeling. Then by Wednesday, the light of faith glowed bright enough that I felt that I could have an honest conversation with God...to talk to Him and figure out what His plan was in all of this. I started praying the minute I learned of my diagnosis--pleading prayers of desperation...but this was different.
On Wednesday I had my MRI. It was a test that I really feared because I have the tendency to get quite claustrophobic. An MRI involves being slid into a narrow dark tube for up to an hour, while a large magnet takes digital pictures of your body...all the while hearing loud banging and snapping noises while the machine does its job. Basically, the scariest environment imaginable...or so I feared. However, Wednesday was also the day after I shared this online journal with my entire world. That was what really fanned the faith flame. Early Wednesday morning, while gearing up for this terrifying test, the love, support, and prayers started coming in...I have to say that it is the most overwhelming and humbling thing I have ever experienced. Knowing that my family and I are being wrapped in the prayers and encouragement of so many people, even some that I've never met, is a comfort that is beyond description. So for that, I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. You gave me the courage to keep my faith burning...and to have this conversation with God...
As I slid into the tube, I closed my eyes. And prayed. I prayed that God would take me by the hand and lead me through all that I had to face. I prayed that He would help me to understand His purpose in placing this challenge before my family and I. I prayed that He would use this experience to draw me closer to Him and to see Him in a more real way. As the magnet rattled and crashed all around me, I drowned out the noise by singing songs of praise and thanking my Creator for showing me His love in the form of family, friends, acquaintances and strangers reaching out to me and offering their hands to hold. Then, in a sound louder than the deafening MRI, I began to hear it. I began to hear the message that I was meant to hear...
And then PEACE came. The MRI was over and I could move onto the next. Only, now my flame of faith burned brighter than the flame of fear. Thursday came, and with it came the PET Scan. An angel of a man wrapped me in a warm blanket while he injected me with a radioactive substance that would cause any cancers within my body to glow and show up in images for my doctors to interpret. While I waited for the radiotracer to be absorbed, I read a People magazine from September and tried to quiet the voices in my head that told me that "this was the BIG test...you remember, the one that showed Dad that his cancer was in his lungs, his liver, and his brain." "Shhhhhh...don't think about that. Look--Bethenny Frankel is struggling to start over. Will her talk show make it? will she love again? THAT, Lindsay, is the important question."
After the PET scan came a meeting with a genetic counselor to be tested for the breast cancer gene 1 and 2 mutations. Results in two weeks. And then today...Friday. Friday was my last diagnostic test...the bone scan.
Friday was also the day that I expected to get my bloodwork and MRI results. At 9:00am on the dot I called Dr. Wilde's office and left a message for her nurse, Pam, to call me back with any results she had. I was told she would call me with the results as soon as she became available. GULP. Then, off to the hospital with Josh and my mom to receive my next "incredible hulk" injection. This time, we had to wait two hours for it to be absorbed. So, we went to the mall, to the Apple store, to lunch. Should I try calling for results again? No...she will call me when she has them.
The bone scan was about 15 minutes underway. Again, I was lying flat on my back while a large square camera twisted and turned all around me, taking slow pictures of my bones and drawing a picture of my skeleton on a monitor. Josh was in the room with me. He was holding my phone when I heard it rang. I heard him step out of the room...it was the call I was waiting for. When he came back he told me that Pam had the results of my PET scan. Wait, my PET scan? I thought I wouldn't get those until Monday. Oh my Lord. She didn't tell my husband the results? Surely if the results were good, she would have told him, would have offered some hint of assurance. The next 15 minutes of the scan ticked slowly by...each minute the beating in my heart got faster and faster. So fast that I worried that my chest was literally thumping and the camera wouldn't get accurate pictures...
Finally, it was over. Josh and I walked to the waiting room where we met my mom. Josh had already texted her that the results were in. The choking hands were on my neck. I couldn't make the call...I was too scared. My mom shook me..."DON'T BE SCARED, LINDSAY." Call.
And here is where the good news comes in...
"Lindsay, your blood work is all normal. And the PET scan revealed no suspicious findings."
THANK YOU, JESUS.
This is what I know for today...sometimes hysterical crying comes from nothing but pure relief and joy...not just from devastation and sadness. I don't know exactly what my test results mean yet; only meeting with my doctors will tell me exactly, but I do know that they mean that they couldn't find cancer anywhere else in my body. Not in my bones, not in my kidneys, not in my brain. I also know that it means that no matter what else lies before me--surgery, reconstruction, chemo, radiation, hair loss--the flame of my faith will not be extinguished. I now have FAITH that I will live to remember this diagnosis as a difficult trial in the long journey of my life. My daughters will know who I am. They won't have to "remember" me, because I will be with them. My husband and I will watch them grow up together. He won't have to do it alone.
Last Friday a storm hit my life. It has rained for 7 days. There have been moments of sunshine and beautiful rainbows...but still it rained. But today, Friday, November 8th 2013, my storm ran out of rain.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
The ball is rolling now...
Well...Tuesday was our Monday. My appointment with Dr. Wilde was rescheduled for 9am today, Tuesday. Josh, my mom, sister, and I met with her, and though hearing what she had to say was terrifying, it was also encouraging as well. What a relief to hear her say emphatically to me, "You are NOT going to die of Breast Cancer."
My sister summed up the visit best, and since I'm pretty emotionally spent for the day...I'm just gonna pull a copy/paste...(thanks, Aim!)
Here is what we found out today from her surgeon Dr. Wilde, who is the director for the Scripps Polster Breast Care Center.
She has 3 spots in her right breast. Two of them were biopsied and are very close together (so they may actually be only one spot) measuring 1.4 cm and 1 cm. The third nodule was not biopsied. The diagnosis is Invasive mammary carcinoma. the invasive means that it has expanded outside of the ductal and lobular walls. It is Grade I. this is different than staging which is determined by size and if it has spread or not. Grade I means that the cancer cells are less abnormal than the higher grades...meaning they can behave and have some similar qualities to normal breast tissue. This is a positive. She is also ER and PR positive which means that the cancer cells have estrogen and progesterone receptors. This is also a positive. This means that these cells can be targeted with medications (like tamoxifin) that will bind to these receptors and kill the cells.
She has many imaging studies to be done this week and next and then we will be able to make a more definitive plan on how to proceed. She will have an MRI tomorrow and a PET/CT scan (which shows where cancer cells are in the whole body) and a bone scan (to make sure it isn't in the bone). She will also potentially be having a breast MRI and another mammogram and ultrasound of the other breast.
She will have a team of doctors surrounding her...her surgical oncologist (Dr. Wilde who we met today), a medical oncologist (who will manage the medical side of her treatment, ie chemo if needed), a Radiation oncologist (for radiation treatment if needed), a Pathologist for a second opinion on her biopsies, a Reconstructive doctor, a genetic specialist (to test for the breast cancer mutation in her genes) and also a psychologist if she wishes to see one. In addition there are numerous support groups and counselors related to the breast care center she can utilize.
She will be having surgery at some point. Lindsay is clear that she just wants it gone and is ready to have a mastectomy. She may have a double mastectomy if she has the gene, or just to be safe depending on her imaging. Having a lumpectomy may also be an option, but she is ready to be aggressive. She may also need systemic treatment with chemo therapy and radiation.
The time like looks like she will meet with Dr. Wilde again in two weeks and could be having surgery as early as the first week of December. If she needs chemo and radiation she will start chemo 3 weeks after surgery and radiation another 3 weeks after that.
Now that I have gotten all the technical stuff out I will tell you what stuck with me...Dr. Wilde, a very no nonsense surgeon said multiple times "you are not going to die from this". In 2013, as she kept telling us, this is a very curable disease and one that Lindsay's kids won't even have to think about.
I think she is in great hands and I know she is strong enough to handle this with grace and through her battle be a beacon of light for others who may have to battle this or any other disease. She is my big sister, she will conquer this. I love you all and appreciate your prayers and good wishes.
I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can.
Amy
*One more note from me, Lindsay...
If you are reading this, and are a person who prays...here are my immediate prayer requests: Pray for me to stay strong and calm during my MRI tomorrow and upcoming tests. Please pray that the cancer is localized to my breast and has not spread to bone or lymphatic system. Also, please pray that I do not test positive for the breast cancer gene. Finally, keep my sweet husband, precious girls, and family in your prayers as I think it is possible that this is going to be even harder on them than it will be on me.
The love and support I have felt in the 5 days since my diagnosis has been totally overwhelming and is such a blessing and comfort...thank you to ALL of my friends and family...I love you.
My sister summed up the visit best, and since I'm pretty emotionally spent for the day...I'm just gonna pull a copy/paste...(thanks, Aim!)
Here is what we found out today from her surgeon Dr. Wilde, who is the director for the Scripps Polster Breast Care Center.
She has 3 spots in her right breast. Two of them were biopsied and are very close together (so they may actually be only one spot) measuring 1.4 cm and 1 cm. The third nodule was not biopsied. The diagnosis is Invasive mammary carcinoma. the invasive means that it has expanded outside of the ductal and lobular walls. It is Grade I. this is different than staging which is determined by size and if it has spread or not. Grade I means that the cancer cells are less abnormal than the higher grades...meaning they can behave and have some similar qualities to normal breast tissue. This is a positive. She is also ER and PR positive which means that the cancer cells have estrogen and progesterone receptors. This is also a positive. This means that these cells can be targeted with medications (like tamoxifin) that will bind to these receptors and kill the cells.
She has many imaging studies to be done this week and next and then we will be able to make a more definitive plan on how to proceed. She will have an MRI tomorrow and a PET/CT scan (which shows where cancer cells are in the whole body) and a bone scan (to make sure it isn't in the bone). She will also potentially be having a breast MRI and another mammogram and ultrasound of the other breast.
She will have a team of doctors surrounding her...her surgical oncologist (Dr. Wilde who we met today), a medical oncologist (who will manage the medical side of her treatment, ie chemo if needed), a Radiation oncologist (for radiation treatment if needed), a Pathologist for a second opinion on her biopsies, a Reconstructive doctor, a genetic specialist (to test for the breast cancer mutation in her genes) and also a psychologist if she wishes to see one. In addition there are numerous support groups and counselors related to the breast care center she can utilize.
She will be having surgery at some point. Lindsay is clear that she just wants it gone and is ready to have a mastectomy. She may have a double mastectomy if she has the gene, or just to be safe depending on her imaging. Having a lumpectomy may also be an option, but she is ready to be aggressive. She may also need systemic treatment with chemo therapy and radiation.
The time like looks like she will meet with Dr. Wilde again in two weeks and could be having surgery as early as the first week of December. If she needs chemo and radiation she will start chemo 3 weeks after surgery and radiation another 3 weeks after that.
Now that I have gotten all the technical stuff out I will tell you what stuck with me...Dr. Wilde, a very no nonsense surgeon said multiple times "you are not going to die from this". In 2013, as she kept telling us, this is a very curable disease and one that Lindsay's kids won't even have to think about.
I think she is in great hands and I know she is strong enough to handle this with grace and through her battle be a beacon of light for others who may have to battle this or any other disease. She is my big sister, she will conquer this. I love you all and appreciate your prayers and good wishes.
I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can.
Amy
*One more note from me, Lindsay...
If you are reading this, and are a person who prays...here are my immediate prayer requests: Pray for me to stay strong and calm during my MRI tomorrow and upcoming tests. Please pray that the cancer is localized to my breast and has not spread to bone or lymphatic system. Also, please pray that I do not test positive for the breast cancer gene. Finally, keep my sweet husband, precious girls, and family in your prayers as I think it is possible that this is going to be even harder on them than it will be on me.
The love and support I have felt in the 5 days since my diagnosis has been totally overwhelming and is such a blessing and comfort...thank you to ALL of my friends and family...I love you.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
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.
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.
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