The hardest thing in the world. Much crying, screaming and hugging. I've promised to be totally honest and tell them everything as I learn it.
Logan is very attentive and openly affectionate (this does not extend to touching in front of his peers, however). Sydny is coping by pretending there is nothing going on.
Friday, 30 September 2011
The Call From the GP's Office
I can't remember the exact date of the follow up mammo and ultra sound, but the following Monday, September 19, I got a call from the doctor's office, "She wants to see you today". Now, that may not necessarily mean bad news - but my doctor doesn't work Mondays.....and I pretty much had a sense of things from the US tech anyway.
I headed in for 12:30. The office was completely deserted except for Dr S standing by the inner door, beckoning. "It's not good" was all she said as we went into one of her exam rooms. She gave me the bad news and I learned the details for the first time, birad 5, 95% sure it's cancerous - invasive, spiculated lesion, biopsy recommended. Then she tells me that she's phoned Laurie and asked her to come in as well.
Laurie is one of my best buds. The Porch Police actually thought she was my sister, now I'm pretty sure they think she's my lover (tee hee) because she's here so frequently. Laurie and I hang out together so much that we share the same hairdresser, chiropracter and doctor among other things. Laurie even gives up her time to come and watch my children in their myriad of performances and athletic endeavours.
When I see Dr S and we're discussing my health, she will frequenly look at me with skepticism and ask, "What does Laurie say about that?". We call it 'medicine by Laurie' - I'm not sure that either of them are properly covered by insurance for this. So, when Dr S tells me she's phoned Laurie, I can't say that I'm overly surprised. My first reaction is 'poor Laurie', she'll have a full day of clients that she'll have to cancel. Both Dr S and I kept thinking that we heard someone come into the outer office so we kept getting up to look. Then we'd continue our discussion. After about the fourth interuption Laurie is there. She looks bad. I have no idea at this point what she's been told or when. She knows about the Call Back already but is an eternal optimist. I did not share with her the reaction of the US tech. Dr S starts to cry and Laurie is upset and I'm looking at the two of them and trying really hard not to burst out laughing at the absolute absurdity of everything. At one point Dr S asks me whether I'm angry that she's called Laurie - no, I wouldn't have told anyone yet if it had been left up to me, but I'm not angry. Dr S has the best of intentions. She's crazy, but bloody thorough and if it wasn't for her I still wouldn't have found the lesion - I still can't find it, although I have no doubt that it's there. All I want to know is, what's the plan, what's the plan, what's the plan?
I headed in for 12:30. The office was completely deserted except for Dr S standing by the inner door, beckoning. "It's not good" was all she said as we went into one of her exam rooms. She gave me the bad news and I learned the details for the first time, birad 5, 95% sure it's cancerous - invasive, spiculated lesion, biopsy recommended. Then she tells me that she's phoned Laurie and asked her to come in as well.
Laurie is one of my best buds. The Porch Police actually thought she was my sister, now I'm pretty sure they think she's my lover (tee hee) because she's here so frequently. Laurie and I hang out together so much that we share the same hairdresser, chiropracter and doctor among other things. Laurie even gives up her time to come and watch my children in their myriad of performances and athletic endeavours.
When I see Dr S and we're discussing my health, she will frequenly look at me with skepticism and ask, "What does Laurie say about that?". We call it 'medicine by Laurie' - I'm not sure that either of them are properly covered by insurance for this. So, when Dr S tells me she's phoned Laurie, I can't say that I'm overly surprised. My first reaction is 'poor Laurie', she'll have a full day of clients that she'll have to cancel. Both Dr S and I kept thinking that we heard someone come into the outer office so we kept getting up to look. Then we'd continue our discussion. After about the fourth interuption Laurie is there. She looks bad. I have no idea at this point what she's been told or when. She knows about the Call Back already but is an eternal optimist. I did not share with her the reaction of the US tech. Dr S starts to cry and Laurie is upset and I'm looking at the two of them and trying really hard not to burst out laughing at the absolute absurdity of everything. At one point Dr S asks me whether I'm angry that she's called Laurie - no, I wouldn't have told anyone yet if it had been left up to me, but I'm not angry. Dr S has the best of intentions. She's crazy, but bloody thorough and if it wasn't for her I still wouldn't have found the lesion - I still can't find it, although I have no doubt that it's there. All I want to know is, what's the plan, what's the plan, what's the plan?
Thursday, 29 September 2011
The Call Back
Following a routine mammo, the Merivale Medical Imaging office called to ask me to return to have more "pictures" taken as well as an ultra sound. The woman on the phone, Margot?? (or some reasonably similar proper noun) repeatedly assured me that usually they would have had my GP call, but her office was closed until September 20th - and they simply couldn't wait.
I don't know about you, but following a mammo, the message, "we can't possibly wait four days for your GP to return" is not very warm and fuzzy. I got the picture.
I had a lovely mammo tech for both rounds. Imagine my shock when they wanted to look at the right and not the left! The left I know from experience is fibrous and sometimes difficult to see clearly. Having the right re-mammoed was not encouraging. I was asked to go back into the waiting room while the pictures were rushed over to the radiologist. When was the last time you had a medical test rushed - while you sat in a four-chair waiting cubby-hole in the most elegant of this year's paperwear? The hair on my arms was rising while I listened to a 70-something lady complain about how they pulled and tugged her boob. Joy.
It wasn't long before I was called by the ultra sound tech, a pretty and relatively young lady. She had me lay down (could I possibly have a short nap??? MMM, their gel is very warm.....) on my back while she propped up my right side, had me slip my right arm out of the paper "GOWN" (hello!!!) and rest it over my head. For those of you who knew me when playing soccer, you will remember that I took a horrible hit in my last season (I actually got a whiplash injury) and my right shoulder has never been the same. Resting it over my head is extremely painful. The tech was as accomodating as possible and the pain shot up and down my arm. At least that distracted me from what was going on. Who knew pain could be a friend?
The US tech was very friendly, but she got progressively more quiet as the exam went on. By the end she was almost in tears. "O.K., you're done now. I'll make sure the results are sent to your doctor today. Don't worry." Now hair all over was standing up and alarm bells were ringing. Today? Really? It's that bad? She's not even in the office until next Tuesday. Man!
So, that's how I found out. An ultra sound tech trying to be nice and sort of falling apart. How did this happen? I was supposed to get cancer below the waist some time in my late 50's - or never at all. I eat better than my parents, I was sure that eating and exercise would lower my risk of developing cancer to almost nothing. Oh wait, does stress play a role? Well, what difference? - there is no stress in my life that I can't handle after all. Everyone to whom I've been regularly exposed these past few years is welcoming, warm and friendly - good karma and no toxic energy. Oh, wait! Fuck.
I don't know about you, but following a mammo, the message, "we can't possibly wait four days for your GP to return" is not very warm and fuzzy. I got the picture.
I had a lovely mammo tech for both rounds. Imagine my shock when they wanted to look at the right and not the left! The left I know from experience is fibrous and sometimes difficult to see clearly. Having the right re-mammoed was not encouraging. I was asked to go back into the waiting room while the pictures were rushed over to the radiologist. When was the last time you had a medical test rushed - while you sat in a four-chair waiting cubby-hole in the most elegant of this year's paperwear? The hair on my arms was rising while I listened to a 70-something lady complain about how they pulled and tugged her boob. Joy.
It wasn't long before I was called by the ultra sound tech, a pretty and relatively young lady. She had me lay down (could I possibly have a short nap??? MMM, their gel is very warm.....) on my back while she propped up my right side, had me slip my right arm out of the paper "GOWN" (hello!!!) and rest it over my head. For those of you who knew me when playing soccer, you will remember that I took a horrible hit in my last season (I actually got a whiplash injury) and my right shoulder has never been the same. Resting it over my head is extremely painful. The tech was as accomodating as possible and the pain shot up and down my arm. At least that distracted me from what was going on. Who knew pain could be a friend?
The US tech was very friendly, but she got progressively more quiet as the exam went on. By the end she was almost in tears. "O.K., you're done now. I'll make sure the results are sent to your doctor today. Don't worry." Now hair all over was standing up and alarm bells were ringing. Today? Really? It's that bad? She's not even in the office until next Tuesday. Man!
So, that's how I found out. An ultra sound tech trying to be nice and sort of falling apart. How did this happen? I was supposed to get cancer below the waist some time in my late 50's - or never at all. I eat better than my parents, I was sure that eating and exercise would lower my risk of developing cancer to almost nothing. Oh wait, does stress play a role? Well, what difference? - there is no stress in my life that I can't handle after all. Everyone to whom I've been regularly exposed these past few years is welcoming, warm and friendly - good karma and no toxic energy. Oh, wait! Fuck.
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