Lean on Me

A while ago, I wrote about the five stages of grief, DABDA. I have to say I haven't experienced any of these yet. I'm mostly feeling sad. Sad and irritable. OMG. Irritable. I'm already a very irritable person, and this latest bump in the road certainly brings out the worst of this major personality flaw that I have. Speaking of bumps in the road, to make an analogy, on Saturday, I spent the day at a local fire station, with their EMT and paramedic. I live in a place where people are not willing to pay taxes, so, surprise, surprise, we have the worst roads ever. Potholes galore. Trust me, these are horrible in a car, and downright dangerous on a bike. But after Saturday, I realized they are way, way worse when you are in ambulance. I can normally manage my irritability, but it's now at a level where I feel like I am strapped down in a cot in the back of an ambulance and screaming at every freaking pothole I hit. It's not a good feeling.

To make things worse, it's that time of year when I get really pathetic and groveling e-mails from my students, and I feel like responding to each of them with, Look, during the past semester, I've been suffering from debilitating hip pain, dealing with life-threatening deep vein thrombosis, and I just found out that I have breast cancer, yet I have come to work every freaking day and tried to force some information into your lazy freaking ass, and graded all your freaking exams and homework in a timely manner, so if your reason for needing an extension on a freaking three-page report can't beat that, then go freaking screw your freaking self.

Don't worry... I've yet to actually respond to an e-mail like that, because all I need on top of all of this is to lose my freaking job.

(Did I mention that I have been really freaking irritable lately?)

Obviously my mind has been going nonstop since Friday, and I've been dealing with a bunch of stuff that I couldn't begin to summarize here, so I'll just hit the highlights. The two biggest things I've noticed are:

1. When you tell people you just found out you have cancer, they will say a variety of things, and some of them will be freaking annoying.
2. Generally, people will really want to help you. That's the awesome thing about cancer (LOL) - it freaks people out much more than something like debilitating hip pain. You could be limping around for a year with no one really batting an eye at you, but if you tell people you have cancer, suddenly people are like, I'm so sorry - let me know what I can do to help out. 

Epiphanies related to these points:

1. You have to cut people a break. They aren't trying to be annoying; they just don't know what to say. And if you think about it, do you really know what you want them to say? Probably not, so whatever. Get past it. The fact that you're talking to them at all means you cared enough to tell them, so assume they care. Otherwise blame yourself for telling someone who doesn't give a shit and will say stupid shit when you tell them shit.
2. Let the people who want to help help. This is probably the most important realization I've had in the past 48 hours: I need to let other people in, let other people be a part of all of this. I need to let people do what they do the best, help in the ways they know how to help. This is not just about me, it involves a lot of other people, some of whom are more freaked out than I am (namely my husband and parents).

That said:

• I am glad that my primary care provider in all of this is my husband's doctor. Even though I've had mixed feelings about him in the past, he cares a lot about my husband and therefore a lot about me. He has shown a lot of compassion about all of this, and knowing that he will take care of my needs is a big thing, but knowing that he will take care of my husband's needs is an even bigger thing. It will also take some of the pressure off of me in terms of making sure my husband is okay throughout all of this. 
• I need to figure out a way to let my parents help that will not drive me crazy. My parents are academics and think that unless I go to the university hospital, I will die. I am not opposed to going to the university hospital, but depending on the treatment plan, it could be very inconvenient. Of course inconvenience is worth it in a life or death situation, but I don't know how bad this is. Overall, I need some space to get more information and draw my own conclusions about my healthcare providers and the treatments they suggest. So... I've been letting my dad contact all of his connections at the medical school and forward suggestions to me. I thank him and then let the e-mails sit in my inbox. But hopefully it makes him feel useful.  
• I'm pretty overwhelmed right now, and I am anxious to see a specialist and get more information. I have an appointment with a surgeon on Wednesday, one that was recommended by my primary care doctor. (My dad had his friend at the med school vet her, and supposedly she has excellent credentials. She is not, however, an oncologist.*) I feel very lucky that I was able to get an appointment relatively quickly, as waiting and not knowing is really the worst part for me. I'm anxious to get the ball rolling one way or another. 
• Unfortunately, I am supposed to teach all of Wednesday morning, and my appointment is right smack dab in the middle of both my classes. (Apparently they called the house this morning and my husband took the first available appointment with no regard to when it was.) This normally wouldn't be a big deal, but it is the last class of the semester before finals week, and I had promised my students we would spend the entire class reviewing for their exam. Obviously getting in to see the doctor ASAP is a top priority for me, but I do feel bad. Fortunately, one of my colleagues, who also teaches this class and is thus familiar with all of the content, agreed to cover my classes for me. This colleague and I haven't always been on the best terms, but she was SUPER nice about it and SUPER supportive. Her mother also happens to be a pathologist, and she said she would be happy to ask her to look at my biopsy results if I wanted. Back to point #2 from above: Let people help.

* According to my dad's friend: I don’t know Dr. L, but I’m glad to see that she’s now part of the University Cancer Center, and that should mean that she has a lot of expertise to draw on. She’s a surgeon, with an impressive training and experience record, and I assume she consults with experts in other forms of therapy. Invasive ductal carcinoma usually is treated early by lumpectomy, though it can be preceded by some form of chemotherapy, and is commonly followed by that, and/or biological therapies like the monoclonal antibody Herceptin, depending on the results of typing that the pathologists do. Ask her to discuss the total plan with you and Waning; some of it may involve trips to University Hospital if certain therapies are only available here. And if at any time you fell you need a second opinion I’m sure that could be had at UH as well.

Overall, I feel better about everything than I did even just 12 hours ago. Perhaps you noticed that I calmed down significantly from the beginning of this entry to the end. That's because I started this entry last night around midnight and just finished it now. I just need some time. Time and deep breathing.