Can It Be True......

11/6/12--Tuesday--Day 24--Never Lose Faith
I woke up at 6:15. Three hours sleep. That was going to be tough. We decided to hot tub because who knew when the next time I might be able to again.  I got ready and piddled around doing every unimportant task. I dusted, cleaned the toilets, watered the plants. I was originally planning on working the half of a day in the morning. I had a presentation at a meeting, but I was so unable to focus that I called Carol and I decided not to go in. I changed the laundry, added cat and dog food to the bins, looked for a presents to take to Cottonwood. This is dumb. Just go on to Mesa. As we left the house, tears welled up again. I am really going to face this today. Maybe if I got in a car accident, all of this would go away. I'd wake up from this nightmare because other parts of me would be broken instead.

We drove two cars to Mesa so I could go on to Cottonwood to my mom's hospice memorial after the appointment today and Greg could come back home.  I was alone. It was quiet. I had three hours to process what was about to happen, the truth I was about to face. God and I had a very long conversation in between phone calls from friends to reassure me, but today was real, once again.

Coming in to town, Melissa, Dr. Byrum's assistant, called and said we could come in early because the appointment before mine had cancelled. Great. I'd rather get this over. We drove into the Cancer Center at 2:00. It was a beautiful facility. As we walked in, a big metal tree covered with all colors of ribbons loomed in the entrance. Was this going to be part of my new life? I was now one of "those people" who are symbolized with ribbons on trees, squares on quilts, names on walls. I was now a cancer patient. Gosh this all seemed so surreal.

The new patient receptionist had no idea why we had come so early. No one knew who had called me. No one from Dr. Byrums office knew. Okay, I'll sit here. No biggie. Finally, we were taken through door number one--payment processing. We followed Abbe into cubby number four. Insurance card, driver's license, emergency contact, "do you have a living will and power of attorney?" She had a whole roll of labels with my name and information printed on them. Each piece of paper I signed had my personalized label carefully placed on it. As we finished, she handed me a blue welcome packet with my sticky label on it and extra Susan labels inside. She called for a volunteer to escort us up to Dr. Bryum's office. An escort? Really? Dale, a nice man probably in his seventies, probably a cancer survivor came to take us. He gave us a tour on the way. "Down there is radiology. All the lab work is down here on the left. We have a library with lots of information on all types of cancer. The bistro is open until 3:30" We got in the elevator. "Floor two are the doctors offices. Floor three is infusion." "Infusion?" I asked. His look of compassion and understanding that I was a newbie cancer patient was obvious. "Chemotherapy." "Oh," I said as I had my first cancer lesson.

When we got off the elevator, the floor looked more like a conference center or shopping mall than doctors offices. Every few tables there were puzzles half built. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over a rock garden. Dale introduced me to Dr. Byrum's receptionist. She didn't know why I was early either. As we sat down to wait, Dale handed me a paper. "Here is the bio on your doctor. Good luck." I looked at Dr. Byrum's picture and started reading. Board certified. UofA graduate. Practicing since 2007. 2007? Oh my gosh. That's only five years. Panic set in. I began texting Paula, who recommended her. "Are you kidding? She's only been practicing for five years." I pasted the text to Trina, then to Peggy. Peggy used to be the administrative assistant for the head of banner health. She pulled her up and started reporting. "She did a great residency, no complaints about her, 100% of her patients recommend her." Then she got inside information. "Gateway medical staff director had her sister go to Dr. Byrum. And she is 39. Stop panicing."

The nurse came out shortly and took us back. She weighed me then took my blood pressure. It was 154 over 90. I always have really, really low blood pressure. She asked if I was nervous (duh) and thought maybe we should retake it after I took a couple of deep breaths. 129 over 70. I suggested she take Greg's. 159 over 94, lol. Guess he was nervous too.

In the exam room, a nurse came in to take our information. We explained much of what our doctor back in Safford had told us, and she started to see the urgency we were feeling about surgery. I explained how the lump had grown in three weeks. She left me a gown to put on and said the doctors would be in after they looked at the images. We waited what seemed like forever. Dr. Byrum's assistant came in. The words that came out of her mouth were comforting and we suddenly realized this may not be as bad as we thought. She began going over the biopsy report with us explaining this was DCIS which was a really early stage of cancer. When Dr. Byrum came in, she said we did need to have surgery, but there was no need to rush into it this week.

Greg and I just looked at each other is total disbelief. What was she saying? Nothing was making sense. She examined my breast. She picked up this book and started reviewing graphics of the breast and explaining what happens during breast surgery. She explained she didn't want to schedule surgery until I saw a radiologist oncologist. He needed to explain the radiation treatment and make sure I knew what was going to happen. I also needed to get chest x-rays, scans, and blood work done first.

When it was all out on the table, our horrible news was still bad, but was so much better than we had originally feared. Yes, I had to have surgery. Yes, I had to have radiation. Yes, I would have something like chemo, but it was an estrogen blocker in the form of a pill that I would take for the next five years. It doesn't cause hair loss (yay).

NEW DIAGNOSIS:
Surgery tentatively scheduled for Nov. 30th
Would be a lumpectomy about the size of a golf ball and they would also take a lymphoid
Outpatient surgery
They would make two insistions one about 4cm
After about four weeks of healing, I would start radiation. It would be five days a week for six weeks and would be done there at their facility.
This cancer has been caught early enough that it is the earlier stages of cancer, but it is still cancer. On a scale of one to ten, it is a four.
The pill I would have to take for five years would put me in to menopause (oh joy), but is necessary.

Wow, talk about prayers working. This is still bad, but it is so much better than what we were thinking. This is doable. I won't lose my hair. Most likely no mastectomy. Scar would be about four cm long. I was so grateful.

It was dark when we finally left the building. Dr. Byrum had spent several hours with us reviewing how this was going to work. We sat in the parking lot relieved for the first time. I texted those who had been waiting on a report. Sitting in that parking lot, I heard a huge sigh of relief echo as many prayers had been answered.