Thursday, January 4, 2018

Medical Clinic

It was January already.  As we started a new year, I was optimistic about the future.  I had a lot of worries, but I hadn’t given up hope. Some might say that I was naïve, others might say delusional (in a kind way), regardless what others thought, I was determined. To think that I would give up on my marriage was to not know me – I took vows and I honored them. My parents were role models for sticking by your partner’s side, no matter what, and I was no different.

I was returning to work relaxed after spending time with the kids.  Alex and Wayne were back to their regular schedules, while Ben remained on Christmas break, with another week off from school.

Today I had an appointment for a mammogram, which I scheduled for the middle of the day, leaving plenty of time to get to Alex’s final soccer game of her senior year.  I remember her 5-year-old excitement of kicking the ball a long way.  Now she was a fierce athlete playing competitive soccer.  There was no way I would miss this final game and celebrating the culmination of hard work and achievements both academically and athletically.

When I scheduled my mammogram appointment, the receptionist in the imaging group said she would call me back after they calculated the deductible and my payment.  That was really bizarre considering it had never happened before and I have good health insurance with relatively low out-of-pocket costs. I found this suspicious.  I felt like I was being singled out for some reason.  Maybe people were spying on me.  I told myself that I was over-reacting, this was a new health care benefits year, so perhaps they provide estimates to avoid billing issues later.

The clinic called back shortly and informed me that the mammogram would cost $311.89.  I found that to be very odd. Co-pays and deductibles were usually whole numbers and not 89 cents.  So there I was thinking about that damn 89 cents, and the date struck me as familiar. Then it dawned on me, that number was familiar because March 11, 1989 was the first time my husband and I had sex.  It’s almost like someone was messing with me.  How often did numbers have meaning to dates in your life?

A petite blonde technician, wearing dark purple scrubs called me in and performed the procedure. I chatted with her while she had my boobs in a vice, trying to keep my mind off the discomfort.  She quickly returned me to the dressing room where I was told not to dress until they confirmed that the images were clear.

Behind the scenes, the radiology department called my primary physician to let her know what they saw, then contacted my insurance company to get approval for an ultrasound.

The technician came in and told me she wanted to do an ultrasound, but couldn’t tell me why specifically.  The additional testing took almost an hour.  I asked why she was doing it on my right side, as well as the left (where I had the lump).  She said the doctor asked her to do that.

Once done, she told me to get dressed, but wait to hear more.  After what seemed like a very long time, the radiologist came out and sat down next to me.   A woman probably in her forties, she was dressed in the traditional blue scrubs the clinic used.  She looked at me with a sympathetic face and asked how I was feeling. I told her I was fine.  She said the reason they recommended the ultrasound was because they saw something on my mammogram and the ultrasound confirmed it.

I knew what she’d say.  I was thinking to myself, “Just f@#king say it.”

She said, “We think you have cancer and in both breasts”.

I just said “Ok”, which surprised her.

I really couldn’t think what else to say.  I just wanted to get out of there.  I wasn’t surprised by the diagnosis since I’d had a feeling earlier that it was cancer.  I think too, that given all the other things happening, this was just another bombshell and I was numb to it.  It didn’t bother me. I was more upset about being displaced from my home than from the diagnosis.

She told me, “You need to see a doctor right away. Your case is serious. The sooner the better.” Her tone was matter of fact, but had a sense of urgency to it. It felt like she was trying to convince me.

“Thank you.  I will do that.”

I walked quickly to my car, in a rush to get home so I could attend Alex’s soccer game.  As I got into the car, my physician called.

“Ms. Mears I have just talked with the radiologist and reviewed your test results.  As I suspected, they confirm that you have breast cancer.” Wow, the radiology department was efficient!  She was calm, and matter-of-fact as she dropped the bad news.

“Oh, Okay.” I was still somewhat numb.

She quickly started speaking again, “Ms. Mears, once cancer is diagnosed, we refer patients to Oncology to determine the best treatment options and begin other tests that need to be done to inform the treatment plan.  Given the progression of your cancer, it is important that you move quickly to meet with an Oncologist.”

I was a little unnerved at the sense of urgency and use of “progression”, so I just said, “OK”. I was thinking to myself that we’d have less progression if you hadn’t lost my mammogram from last year.

“I do feel that you need to get an appointment tomorrow.”

Today was Thursday.  I’d probably have to wait until next week to find an appointment.

She continued on, “I don’t see an available appointment for Friday, but I have asked a doctor to see you on Saturday morning.” She didn’t want me to wait until Monday to see an oncologist.

Right.  She lost my last mammogram, I’ve got cancer, and now she’s in a hurry to cover her ass.

I told her that was fine, I would see the doctor on Saturday.

My mom was at the soccer game when I arrived.  She asked if I went to my appointment or not. I told her I had, and she seemed pleased that I was taking care of myself.  She was still honoring my request of privacy, so didn’t ask about the appointment. She probably knew that I’d tell her when I was ready.  My parents were good at waiting for me to share information. I didn’t mention the results to her until the next morning.

Friday, January 5, 2018

Nikita’s Parents’ house

In the morning, before work, I had a conversation with my mom.

“Mom, you know I went to the doctor yesterday and had some tests done.  They did a mammogram and then an ultrasound.  They are concerned about the lump and believe that I probably have cancer.”

“Oh honey, that’s horrible.  Do you feel okay?”  I could tell my mom was concerned. Our family has a narrow emotional bandwidth, so I didn’t expect my mom to start crying or anything.

“Yes, I feel fine. I’ve probably had this for a little while and didn’t know it. I have an appointment tomorrow with an oncologist to find out next steps.”

“I’ll go with you Nikita. You don’t want to go alone for something like that. What time is the appointment?”

“No Mom.  I’ll go by myself.  I’m fine.” I was thinking that I didn’t need her to have this stress on top of her own chronic health issues. She and my dad spent enough time in medical facilities.  I could spare them dealing with this directly.

“You know I’m here when you want or need me.” My mom looked very concerned.

I know she was concerned for me, but she knew that I was not willing to let others help me yet.

So this was it. Confirmation. I had cancer, as I suspected.  And possibly both breasts.  I would go to the doctor and see what I needed to do.  I needed to show people that I was taking care of myself, so everyone had to see that I was moving forward, being responsible. I couldn’t take another family intervention telling me to see another doctor. And there was no way I was going to let Wayne have a reason to take more control over my life.

Too much was happening in my life that I didn’t think was random.  Maybe I’m crazy, because I still think there’s some government conspiracy happening.

With the cancer diagnosis I could feel that I was becoming overwhelmed, sort of lost in the ocean and being pulled down by the undertow.  I was trying to keep afloat but I was being battered by waves.  I was struggling to put my life back together and now this just drops a bomb in my lap.  I wasn’t sure how to push forward on all fronts when I really wanted to put something on the shelf to worry about later. How do you prioritize your health versus your family?

In some way I felt that everything was connected. Like there was a thread running through all of these events that could explain the bigger picture.

I went about my day, like any other day, determined not to focus on the cancer.

Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash.com

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