My bliss following the last chemo session was somewhat dampened by the discovery of a lump - this time in the left breast! What horrible person was I in my last life that this could possibly happen? How is it that tumours can develop at the same time as one's body is being poisoned with chemo drugs? This tumour must be HUGE too, because I could feel it - whereas they removed three tumours from the right side and I could never find them.
Accompanying all the drama in my brain were doubts that I could start this process again with the same attitude that got me through it the first time. Sure, there were benefits: my nails have grown out for the first time in my life, I got an awesome tattoo, I am going to grow curly red hair, I got away from the office and I met a whole bunch of awesome people. But what additional benefits could there possibly be from doing this all over again so soon?
My first thought was to rush in to see Doc S, but then I remembered that I already have an oncologist, and who better to look at my lumps? And my next appointment with Doc Clemons/his resident (whose name I really have to get sorted out as she is lovely) was already scheduled for April 11 - I just needed to stay zen (ha ha) until then and not panic.
So, I pushed the lump as far back in my mind as I possibly could and only thought of it about twenty times a day. I glued on my smile and got to work trying to get back into shape after my five months of inactivity. It is shocking how quickly one loses muscle tone. I'm like one big lump of dough. I had been doing a little walking over the winter - but never long and only very sporadically (i.e. to run a quick errand or when Laurie came over to drag me out) and I started doing longer walks and some very light yoga - the kind where you only get off the yoga mat to re-position the cushions and lay back down. Laurie calls this yoga for Donna:) This past week however I walked on average 10km every day but one. Laurie convinced me to try a BodyArt class at our gym - which was awesome (and resulted in muscle pain for three days following) and she and I did a hot Yin class as well. It felt great to be moving again and helped keep me relatively peaceful while I waited to see the Docs.
Finally the day arrived. I tied up my sneakers and turned my iPod volume up loud and headed out for the 4km walk to the hospital. I left rather early because my housekeeper was here and I get in her way if I hang around. I brought a book to keep me company for the half hour that I would have to sit. On the way there I planned my pitch to the lovely Hazel. How do I broach the subject? This entire time when asked how I'm doing the answer has always been pretty easy - I'm great, considering. Maybe a minor little thing that needs to be addressed - but really blessedly lucky. How do I tell Hazel that something's gone wrong? I felt like I would be letting her down, betraying the comraderie that we had established. Disappointing Hazel, even, with my marked inability to beat the shit out of this cancer thing on the first go. YIKES!
About half way to the hospital I had my plan of attack prepared: I would tell Hazel that I wanted the doc to tell me that I am a hypochondriac. There must be a simple explanation for how giant lumps appear during chemo and perhaps a good shrink could help me with my newest psychosis. Excellent, I love having a plan.
I arrived at the hospital to a sign behind reception that Doc Clemons was running an hour behind schedule! Good thing that, in addition to my book, I packed a snack. I settled in, mind settled on my plan of attack, and thought of the lump only continuously. It didn't seem long before Hazel was calling out "Donna" and searching for my bald dome (which is no longer truly bald - I sport a full head of white fuzz now). We headed off to the exam room and Hazel asked how everything was going. "A slight bump in the road I'm afraid - literally. The Doc needs to tell me that I'm a hypochondriac because I found a lump on the left side." I cannot tell you how reassuring the look from Hazel was. It said, "You're an idiot", which is exactly what I needed to hear. She threw a gown at me and said, "We'll take a look." I changed - and put my jacket back on because the hospital was FREEZING and stuck my nose back into my book and waited.
The Resident came in and I told her what I found and she proceeded to examine me. She told me she was sure that it was just fibrous tissue, but she would have Doc Clemons come in and double check. She then asked me what I had eaten? Huh? How is what I just ate in any way related to this lump? I just stared at her. "Your mouth is blue." I went to the mirror - and sure enough my tongue and lips were blue. I had stolen a candy from the dish that was out at reception - I'll never do that again.
Clemons came in after a few moments with a student doc in tow. The absue began immediately, "Hello Trouble. Just making things up to see me?" Yup! His examination begins - first sitting up and then laying down. And he starts asking the student questions. "Other than the fact that this patient is insane, what are the clinical signs that we are looking for?" "What is the number one thing wrong with all lawyers?" On and on. There I am, on the table with my gown open and it's bloody cold and these two are having a great time. And the Resident is there too - so it's basically a party and I feel like the buffet table. Next the student gets to examine me. Now I want someone to stick an apple in my mouth like a stuffed pig. She touches me and I let out a yelp. "Okay, one thing you definitely need to learn is that you cannot touch patients with hands that cold. Rub them together to warm them at least a little! I'm sure you have a very warm heart though." Clemons was killing himself laughing. "Oh, she'll teach you some things for sure", he told the poor student. She tried the examiination again, with Clemons telling her what she was feeling. And I am happy to report that I am merely a hypochondriac.
Apparently chemo often effects the nature of the breast tissue and in this case it has created some lumps in mine. I'm sure that this possibility is outlined somewhere in all of the literature that I was given - but seriously, who could retain all that info - even if they read it in the first place? All three docs could apparently feel fibrous material running in cords from the lump - which they taught me is a good thing. We'll keep an eye on it to make sure that it doesn't get any worse, but no one is worried at all - including me.
With Hazel's disparaging look now taking the place of the lump in my mind's eye, my steps on the walk home were much lighter.
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