Nothing is Permanent

Men are from Mars….

DH returned yesterday. While I never envisioned him holding his arms open and me rushing into them for solace [ I would probably trip and fall flat on my face]; I expected him to a little more concerned. Concerned he was, extremely but for all the wrong things.  He had apparently discovered the wonder that was WebMd these past few days and then had gone all out not to find out a solution to my issues but to find a cause for it. I have mentioned earlier that DH is not a man of crisis. He is not the one who will remain stoic and unperturbed when hings are falling apart. He freaks out easily and starts analyzing how things went wrong instead of what he can do to correct things. If any of the kids fall he will start researching how they fell down and who is to blame even before he picks them off the ground. It is just who he is. I on the other hand never seem to analyze whys at all, I am always fine you fell lets see what we can do to make it better. Is one path better than the other I am not sure. My guess is both are extremes. Thinking about the whys will probably help the kid not fall the same way again but sometimes all a kid needs is a quick kiss on the boo boo.

With this possibility of cancer is looming over me it feels ridiculous to me if he spouts stuff about me trying to lose weight or eat more Vitamin D. This coupled with how fragile I was feeling and how freaked out he was made us fight all day. Fight over stupid stuff like a light left on or Listerine spilled by one of the kids in the sink. He probably is wishing this is all a bad dream and he wakes up soon enough. I get it I wish the same but it is what it is and freaking out won’t help. I rather him tell me how this sucks and how angry he is over this happening to me but that’s not how he rolls.

Meanwhile after speaking to C, my colleague the other day she told me to speak to J another co worked or mine. She had a similar scare a few years earlier and while she needed surgery it turned out to be benign. I spoke to J at length yesterday and  like C she is a good listener and me-whisperer. She calmed me down while also telling me its ok to have a meltdown. She spoke to me at length about the procedures involved and even recommended her doctor at Robertwood Johnson [RWJ]. I told her I willbe doing the biopsy with the Dr.S, the doctor I met Thursday and then decide on my future course. I do agree that RWJ would probably a better choice for surgery that Somerset Medical mainly due to its size and facilities and how reputed it was but that’s a bridge I plan to cross when I get to it. J gave me a big thing hope. Hope that this may still turn out to be nothing. Hope that nobody knows for sure what it is till they do the biopsy. That I can still hold off on completely giving up till I get the biopsy results. I am not a patient person by nature. The wait till Monday is not gonna be pleasant.

A support group of one

I am an avid googler and an expert one too. There are times I wish I can have a google search box in my brain to locate a lot of stuff I seem to either forget or lose. Google breast cancer support groups and you will get a million matches to varied resources. There a call centers you can call, people you can meet or forums you can visit but there seems to be a precious little for “Maybe I have breast cancer”. At least for me the uncertainty of not knowing is probably worse than a final verdict of cancer. The maybe and what ifs that run though my mind gradually drive me nuts. I am cranky and in general very impatient. DH is not home yet but the kids are not happy with the way I am now. I am consciously making an effort to be normal with them. They have no clue why mom got so mad when they took forever to zip up their coats.

The breast surgeons office is a small space in a nondescript office building. Nothing in its exterior suggests that so many people come there to have their life changed irrevocably.  The waiting area if filled with a bunch of old people watching some generic program on the small TV hanging in one corner of the world. The receptionist is suitably uninterested an rude at the same time.  She shows one flicker of being impressed when I gave her the neatly typed and printed medial forms she had emailed me the day before.  I usually fill them up in my ant-like scrawl but I needed something to take my mind off my troubles and so the day earlier I had spent a lot of useless time and effort filling them up on my computer and printing them.

I wince at the fact that everyone in the waiting area is twice my age. Everyone around me medical professional or otherwise seems to agree on the fact that 33 is too young to have breast cancer, yet here I am sitting in the waiting room waiting for my turn. I am scared, but I am also feeling stronger than ever.   I don’t know what this dr is going to tell me when I see him. I have to prepare for both the good and the bad. A cute looking Asian guy who looks more like a chef than a nurse calls my name and I follow him inside.  He asks me questions about the reason for my visit and attempts to take my blood pressure but apparently the BP machine was not working. He tries to borrow one from another room but is unsuccessful. Another mishap to add to my overgrowing series of “Things going wrong in 2012”. The doctor waltz in with a smile. He is an extremely tall Indian guy who looks more like an NBA player than doctor. He is all cheery and gung-ho while I uncomfortably de-robe and allow him to squeeze my breasts. The fact that I am in pain and wincing seems to not bother him. He then leaves to look at my films leaving me wondering if that was not something he should have done before he went all squeezie on me. I hear him calling my doctor and catch wafts of the conversation. Cancer… Biopsy…. Reports…. None of the words very confidence inducing. He comes back with a verdict. In his experience it feels malignant and I should schedule a biopsy ASAP. How does Wednesday look for you he asks? Too far away mind screams but my head nods.

I follow him out to the nurses station where finds out that he does have an opening on Monday morning. The first piece of good news in the last few days. Ironical really how the thought of getting an earlier biopsy date made me happy. Be there bright and early and we will see what we can do he smiled. Now the wait for Monday begins…