So I've decided to continue writing here, to share a different journey, which started today when my doctor called to let me know that he had the pathology report from the biopsy I had on Wednesday. It took me a little off guard because I was not expecting to hear anything before the weekend, and also because I did not recognize the phone number from which he called me. It was neither the main office number (which I have memorized) nor his personal cell (which is programmed into my cell). After I answered my cell phone and he said, 'It's Dr. A,' I immediately replied, 'Do you have bad news for me?' Pause. 'Well,' he said, 'I have some bad news and some good news.' Considering the circumstances, any bad news is fairly bad, so I knew right then and there I wasn't going to be happy with what he told me.
Apparently I have a ductal carcinoma. That is the bad news. The good news is that it is 'well differentiated,' which basically means it is the least aggressive type of carcinoma. I've needed some time to process this information, so my consultation time with Dr. Google has been minimal, but I do know this much: this is the most common type of breast cancer and it is often detected only by mammograms, which actually makes me cringe a bit, because my tumor is fairly large by now, so I wonder how long it has been growing. I curse my hips and DVT for causing me to neglect the rest of my well-being for the past two years.
Fortunately, I was mentally prepared for the bad news. As much as I worry about being a hypochondriac, whenever I've felt like something is wrong with me, there has been something wrong with me. The news wasn't better than I expected, but it wasn't worse, either. After I found the lump, I consulted Dr. Google about the possibility of a lump being non-cancerous. Statistically speaking, there was a good possibility of it just being a cyst, although my self-diagnosis did not lead me to believe that my lump fit the criteria for a cyst. However, knowing that I cannot be completely objective with myself, I took on a wait and see attitude. But, I was not surprised when the mammogram revealed that it was, in fact, a solid mass (aka tumor). After knowing I had a tumor, I consulted Dr. Google about the possibility of the tumor being benign, and it did not seem that the odds were in my favor. For one, benign tumors are much more common in younger women - women in their teens and 20s and sometimes 30s. And again, my tumor did not seem to match the description of any benign tumor I could find a description of.
If there is any silver lining in this, it is perhaps that I now have some confidence in my diagnostic abilities, and hope that I can put them to use someday by living long enough to realize my goal of becoming a healthcare provider.
In my heart, I feel like everything is going to be okay. It HAS to be okay. It is still a harrowing journey to be contemplating, however. At this early point in time, I'm mostly feeling annoyed that the awesome summer I had planned out and was so looking forward to will not be happening the way I had envisioned it. But I realize that the farther along I get in this journey, that will seem like such a ridiculous thing that I'll be embarrassed I even wrote it. But that's what I like about reading blogs about other people's experiences - the human aspect of all of this, ridiculous thoughts and all. So I will try to be very real here.
My husband is handling all of this in about the same way I am, with occasional pep-talks thrown in. 'We are going to beat this!' 'This is going to be okay!' I want to believe this with all my heart and know that so much of this ordeal will be dictated by my attitude, but I'm just not quite there yet in my mind. I need some time. However, I had a glimmer of hope today that that positive attitude is in me somewhere. I have to do clinical hours all day tomorrow for my EMT certification (which will actually be a nice distraction), and on Sunday, my husband had planned a guitar-playing date with a friend. He mentioned, though, that he had told his friend we had to see how we were feeling on Sunday, which was his way of asking permission to proceed with the date. I assured him it was fine with me, then I put on my best British accent, made a face at him, and said, 'I'm not dead yet!' He proceeded to burst out laughing and then said, 'See! This is why I know you are going to be okay!'
I hope he is right, because I am very much in love with life, and particularly my life. It is such a good life, and I'd be honored to keep living it for many years to come.
And so we start a new chapter; thanks for joining me in my journey.
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