February 15, 2012 - Posted by Mitushi - Comments Off on A pity party for one…
As I left the OB office a huge wave of realization and fear crashed over me. With eyes stinging with tears I rushed to the safety of my car and tried calling my husband [DH from now on]. It went to his answering machine which made me really really angry and I proceeded to have a huge meltdown right there in the parking lot of the OB office. It is amazing how weak a person gets when faced with the thought of their own mortality. I did not even have a diagnosis yet but my brain linked the words lump=cancer=death. However illogical that may seem that moment sitting there in that car bawling my eyes out my only thoughts were about not seeing my kids grow up. Amidst this pity party of one my phone rang and I picked it up assuming it was my DH; instead it was my colleague from work with a question. She probably heard the squeak in my voice and inquired if I was OK and that is probably when I lost all control. I proceeded to between heaving sobs tell her all about the day from hell I have been having. My unsuspecting colleague C who had probably called to see if a code was ready yet got to hear a earful of how I am gonna die and not see my kids graduation.
I am lucky to work with an amazing posse of few of the strongest women I have ever known. Each of them have had their own personal struggles but have always been their for each other. C will probably never know how much pouring my heart out in those unintelligible mumblings helped me that day. She did not try to fix things, she did not say she was sorry, she did not offer suggestions. Instead she told me it was ok to cry and speak and that she had nothing better to do. Giving voice to what I was feeling that day made me see the ridiculousness of my thought process. I did not have a diagnosis and I certainly had not been handed down a death sentence. Gradually my realistic brain took over and I calmed down. I probably would have been there for a lot more time crying if she had not called when she did.
As I left the parking lot DH called. By this time I was already very calm and matter of fact and when I spoke to him he did not get to hear the uncertainty in my voice or the shudder in my tone. Believe me this was a good thing because DH is not a man who handles crisis well. He asked me if he should return that day but I told him not to as the breast surgeon visit was just diagnostic and him being there would be of no use. It was a short and composed conversation very dissimilar to the one I had with C a few minutes earlier. For once I was glad DH had not picked up the phone when I called.
February 15, 2012 - Posted by Mitushi - Comments Off on A butterfly flutters its wings…
The butterfly effect has long been the tagline for chaos. How a butterfly can flutter its wings in China and result in a tornado in Texas… Although a butterfly flapping its wings has remained constant in the expression of this concept, the location of the butterfly, the consequences, and the location of the consequences have varied widely. Sitting there in the parking lot of the OBGyn’s office this thought kept playing in my head all the time. It was so surreal that it all started with a spontaneous game of Wii I had one Sunday afternoon. Its was Superbowl Sunday and my son and I were supposed to be setting up for the party but instead we had broken out a Wii game and competing with each other. We were bonding over virtual beach volleyball and riding virtual horses. Yup that riding was my butterfly… I got carried away and pulled a ligament. Since the pain was more on my breast than my arm I decided to see my OBGyn instead of my regular doctor. That and I like my OB more than my regular doc. Dr. J told me to take it easy, apply some ice and stay off horses. And nearly as an afterthought she mentioned the lump she felt on my left breast. Probably nothing she said but just to be safe lets do a mammogram.
It was my anniversary that week and the first appointment available was for the day of my anniversary. That is just what I needed getting a mammogram on a day of fun. Noway I told the scheduler lets do it next week preferable after Valentines day. In hindsight it was a great decision. It would have ruined my anniversary but I digress.
So there I was bright and early the day after Valentines Day checking in at the radiology center. Word with Friends kept me good company till I was called. The mammogram for the uninitiated is basically a modern twist to a medical torture device. Sadism probably is a prequalification to operate a mammogram machine. It basically involved flattening your breasts like a pancake and taking a picture [both things you mom said you probably should not do].
So after the mammogram they told me to wait in a cozy waiting room while they looked over my films and prepped for my ultrasound and then in the the next 20 min my world came crashing down. The ultrasound tech called me in, exchanged pleasantries and had me lie down on the beach chair looking ultrasound bed. She started the procedure with an indifference reserved for paranoid young women who thought every tiny lump was cancer, since I could not see the the screen I was look at her when suddenly I saw her expression change from indifference to alarm I sincerely hopes she doe snot play poker]. She left to get the radiologist/doctor who came by and both of them pored of the screen for a long time mumbling stuff. They probably really like how my breasts look and are thinking if they can ask Playboy for a finders fee I rationalized. Weren’t doctors supposed to be calm and composed at all times so patients don’t panic? After what seemed like an eternity the radiologist turned to me and the first word out of her mouth were “Try and get a breast surgeon to see these ASAP. You have a big lump and two small lumps and the look malignant.” She could have told me George Clooney was on his way to take me out for a date and I would probably have been a little less shocked.
While I have always taken what doctors say with a pinch of salt cause for them everything is urgent and immediate the speed at which they got my films and ultrasound reports ready [ a task which usually takes a few days to get done] was unnerving. I walked out on autopilot still thinking ok pretty sure the lumps are extra deposits of fat my body is storing for when I go on my diet. In the same autopilot I drove to my OBGyn’s office less than a mile away. My first inkling of the urgency of my situation was when I realized that in the duration of that two minute drive the radiology office had already sent over my report there and the OB coordinator was already setting up a breast surgeon appointment for me the day after. Never have I seen the medical machinery spin so fast and efficiently. She handed over my appointment details with instructions to keep her in the loop about what was going on. My mind was screaming “How about someone loop me in with what is going on?”
This post is getting too long… More tomorrow.
