I was called for the confirmation on my mammogram appointment and the woman on the other end of the phone insisted that if I were feeling another lump, that I needed a "diagnostic" mammogram, not the routine.
She was maybe more concerned than I was. I will be forever indebted to her. She called my doctor, made the change of test request, change of location, and bumped up my scheduled appointment time. Because this was the week before Christmas, what she did was nothing short of being directed by Providence. She could have easily put me off two more weeks. Or longer.
I don't know who she was.
***
The lady doing the mammogram was pretty rough on me. I have never hurt after a mammogram like that. But she seemed to know as soon as I showed her the lumps, and she knew she had to get the best pictures possible for me.
After she saw the developed mammogram, she took me immediately into an ultrasound room and started an ultrasound. I was watching the screen and saw 'it', then 'them', easily and immediately.
Then she left and brought back the radiologist.
He did his own ultrasound and then did it again. He was in a hurry, but I could see in his eyes that he knew what he was seeing.
They were ugly and black.
And I was strangely calm, watching and talking the whole time trying to get any information I could from them.
I said "that doesn't look so good". He told me I had at least two lesions that he was seeing and that it seemed to be in the same lymph node chain.
I asked him if that was better or worse.
***
That was all on a Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday, I spent trying to get the official results from my obgyn. Her nurse communicated to me that although my doctor was too busy to talk with me at the time, she wanted me to get an appointment with a surgeon as soon as possible for a biopsy. I tried the surgeons she suggested, but all were full and shutting down for Christmas and scheduling two weeks into January.
I knew what I had seen on the ultrasound screen the afternoon before, and I knew "that" was not there when I had seen my obgyn for my usual appointment in June. It was not there in August when I had her examine a warm hard lump in my arm pit. She had done a pretty thorough exam both times.
I was a bit taken aback with the speed and seeming ferocity of this growth.
The day was rapidly spent in waiting and phone calls. Phone calls and waiting. I was texting with a friend and as a favor she was able to get me in with her doctor for a biopsy in another hospital within two days. Her doctor was willing to forgo all of the usual round of beginning consult visits, etc, and just do the biopsy straight up. I called my obgyn and asked them to forward the records.
It was "Library Wednesdays", so the twins were here, although we did not go to the library that day. We read books and laid down for a nap, then the personal call from my obgyn came in. She said she would rather I stay with her surgeons in Medina and she would try to get me in herself. I told her that I understood that all I was needing was a needle punch biopsy done under ultrasound, and that as long as I could get that done quickly and collect the results, I could be on my way to wherever I needed to go.
We went back and forth a little bit. I wanted speed and a diagnosis, alarmed at how fast this had grown. I was familiar with needle punch biopsies - both on the animal and human side, having had a couple on my thyroid. You go in, get it done, and get the results. I didn't understand her reluctance for me to go with the fastest available opening.
She agreed that "this was growing like wildfire", but wanted me to schedule with a surgeon first. I hedged. Finally she said "Karen, I have your pictures in front of me and it doesn't look good. You need to develop a good relationship with a good surgeon - you are going to need one."
She continued saying what no one was wanting to say over the phone up to that point. "These look pretty nasty - you have cancer."
And that was how I heard that word for the first time ascribed to my person.
***
My son Scott walked in shortly thereafter to pick up the sleeping girls. He caught me - I was wanting to wait - especially with it being Christmas - to have a definite diagnosis in hand before I told anyone. What if this was just a 'scare' - it happens all the time, right?
But he caught me with red eyes, and the shock of it all. He is pretty awesome in a crisis -- he could tell I had been crying when he came in, and I told him I was just upset, we would talk more next week, and he said it was all kind of out of the bag here, he had glanced at my notes on the desk, so I just told him.
He gave me a big hug and told me I was going to be ok. His strength made me feel instantly better. Plus, we are kind of two peas in a pod when it comes to thinking out diagnosis, the best approach, the best chances, etc. We can talk like that and it's good to be clinical and step back and look the situation over.
Then he left with the girls, and I was alone again before Scott got home. I didn't know how to say it to him. I didn't know how to tell him that the happiest time in our lives was about to be shaken to its foundation again. I didn't know how to dump this stress on him without causing him physical distress.
He walked in the door; he called out my name, and I just started to cry. He hugged me for a long time.
***
I had called my daughters early that morning and told them I was sending them an email. As much as I didn't want to drop this on them over the phone, and just before Christmas, I had no choice. Their brother knew and he thought they should know and would want to know. Because I was missing work, word was leaking out.
But I didn't want to drop this on them until I had the biopsy results in hand with certain black and white words. Everyone was getting ready for the big holiday - finishing up shopping, wrapping, baking; generally being happy. The granddaughters were beyond ecstatic and filled with glee.
This would be such a sudden, dark cloud.
I talked to Kristi on her way to work - which was cruel - and I could hardly get the word out.
"Cancer". "My doctor thought it might be cancer." I tried to be strong and not so concerned, but we both cried. She just kept saying "oh mom, oh mom".
At that time, I impressed on her it was "looks like". It was "we don't know anything for sure yet".
Then I called Heidi. I especially hated telling her - she had been through so much already - and yet here was more. We cried. I could hear the fear in her voice - she didn't want someone else to go through the deep waters she had just tread.
Our family had seemed to already have had its full share of medical misery. But in the harbor was a boatload more shipping in from the shores of Haedes.
***
My friend miraculously got me in for the biopsy on Thursday. I had thought about little else. She thought maybe the doctor doing the biopsy was leaning away from it being cancer and maybe I might just have some odd cysts.
It seemed like I was given a short reprieve. Maybe the biopsy would not show what we thought. I didn't believe it, but my mind was warming up to the idea that maybe it was just some type of odd cysts. I told my kids that and they were relieved.
And we all felt better celebrating the holiday.
***
Then it all came crashing in the following Wednesday morning. Because of the holidays, the labs were slow. The biopsy results were supposed to be in on Tuesday. We made plans to go down to Heidi's and stay overnight that evening pending "the phone call". We called and waited and called and waited and finally left home, thinking they would call as we drove.
No call. We did a little shopping, trying to wait for the phone call before we went to their house. I sat in Barnes and Noble front window at Polaris and waited until the promised call never came in before 5pm. So we thought maybe that was a good sign - if it was bad news, they would have been sure to call back quicker. We went to Heidi's house and had a good evening.
My doctor called with the biopsy report confirmation promptly at 8:18am the next morning. It was not cysts. It was metastatic cancer.
I didn't want that there. I didn't want that dark shadow anywhere, but not there, please.
***
Wes made up his awesome oatmeal, and we talked candidly about it all. Then, I got on the phone.
I talked with my family doctor about options of where to seek treatment. I talked to my obgyn. On my own with the ones I had talked to, I had narrowed my options to two places: University Hospitals in Cleveland or James Cancer Center in Columbus. I had been to the OSU medical facility with my daughter's surgery the previous year.
I called and they were able to get me in the following week on January 4th.
***
Somehow, we had an impromptu party that night at Heidi and Wes'. Scotty and Leila came down with the twins. Kristi and Cal came over with Evelyn. We bowled on the WII. I almost won.
The grand kids shouted and laughed and were having the best of times. We ordered food in. It was the best-worst night ever.
We talked about it openly, but we had fun and didn't let it define us. They wanted to be there for me and I needed them to be there for me.
We have some pretty awesome kids. They have married some pretty awesome people. We are so blessed.
We packed up late and drove home. Then we laid awake for a long time savoring the evening and grasping it tight and then cried some more.
***
WHAT I SAID:
This is part of the email I sent to my kids that first day.
Hey Loveys,
This is certainly not something I wanted
to put into an email. I wanted to come down to Columbus today to tell
you this - but I am tied to a phone. It's too early to call now and
after 8am I need to have my phone free.
...(then I included some of the medical info already stated above)...
I am so sorry loves. I know you are old enough that
you can do this process very well, but on the other hand, I just didn't
want the cloud hanging over you this weekend until I was more certain
of what I am dealing with. And by the way - we still are not certain until we get the biopsy back....
I have spent a couple of months walking through the prophets again. I can't help myself - I love them. I had read Jeremiah, my main man, last fall and had just finished Ezekiel, read
through Hebrews because you have to, because it is all tied together so
nicely, then decided to continue with Daniel. I had just finished the
first 6 chapters again - the option Daniel chose to live a life set
apart and holy - the 3 young men thrown into a fiery furnace - the
lion's den -- all of them jumped out at me again. While this was all
happening the last couple of days, it was rolling around in my brain - I
am not as strong as they were, but am hoping, praying, that my response
will be the same as Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego -- that I will say
to the God of heaven and those evils that are trying to overtake me:
16 Shadrach, Meshach and
Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend
ourselves before you in this matter. 17 If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. 18
But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we
will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”
I've
lived long enough to say, I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't
want this, but if I must my first response cannot be anger at God nor
hurt feelings of Him not protecting me; instead I know whatever it is
that this is about, I must say I will face this furnace and if He saves
me wonderful; if not it is still good. He has already given me more
than I could ever have hoped for or wanted and if I get more, I will be
grateful.
I love you all deeply
and want you to know that if this all ends up simple - great. If it's
not, I know a God that walks in the fiery furnace with you. I have a
friend who is begging a co-worker to help me out. And most important to me, I have three children that do right, live upright lives and
honor their God - all on different levels, different ways, but it is
true.
And the more you walk it, study it, believe it, pray it, the more you have when things like this happen.
It's
still hard. But everyone in their life at some point has to look into
that furnace and everyone better have a speech prepared for that moment.
I watched Kristi and Heidi and Scotty and your dad all face enormous
odds and pain and demons from the pit of hell, and I guess my thinking
is yeah I'm sad, I'm scared, I'm weepy at times, but if they all faced
the furnace, walked in, and walked out, I can do no less.
***
That's what I said.
***
WHAT THEY SAID:
(parital post, copied from Heidi's blog http://trippingoverhappiness.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2011-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&updated-max=2012-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&max-results=50)
the ugly
& now please pardon my horrible, sailor like language. (as most folks except maybe christine or holli or kristi may know, when angry & before the vineyard, i knew how to swear with the best of the world's best cussers...so be prepared!)
the story goes like this: my mom had noticed some swollen lymph nodes, went to the doctor, who mostly brushed it off. then she found a breast lump in august & a mammogram was scheduled for late january. last week she found another breast lump. her doctor did some scans & declared it cancerous. then she was able to get into a local hospital to have a biopsy, but they said they were more optimistic it was not necessarily cancer.
that was last week. it was a horrible few days. i cried nearly an entire day. so that's why, on christmas eve, i released some stress via a not so great method, but effective! but we weren't certain it was cancer, so we were all optimistic.
tuesday night my parents spent the night & we played wii, then finished the night by watching the end of a documentary on theodore roosevelt (the gerwig-gerbicks know how to be rock stars). the next morning my mom got the news we all didn't want to hear, the cancer news. she is one of the strongest women i know. if anyone can make it through this, it's her. i mean, she nearly beat all of us in wii bowling! she had almost the youngest age in wii fit! (i was 64! WTF?!). my sister wrote something like 'stop all the clocks' & that's for real. it hurts in a way that most things never can--but somehow i know she will have strength like no one else.
***
And the last say: (copied from Kristi's blog http://justcallmelilybriscoe.wordpress.com/?s=stop+the+clocks&submit=Search
Stop All the Clocks
22 Dec My mom admits that she’s not a great communicator; she prefers to write what she wants to say. I’ve learned a lot about her through written communication and though I yearn for a more intimate relationship with my mom, I am the same way. I write what I want to say. Writing is organized and can be edited and it helps my brain to settle and focus. The written word has weight and carries something of the eternal with it; the written word is participation in the dialogue of humanity. It is what’s left.Writing instead of vocalizing is also distance. My self, my heart once removed scratched onto white space. It’s easier for me to write than to speak; this white space a place to put my self and my say.
That said, not only do I not know how to say this, but I don’t know how to write this. When my mom called this morning, she could not say the word either. But she called and we spoke to each other and wept. My mom told me what it was. My mom has cancer.
There are the words, there. There. For all their distance and for all the white space surrounding them and holding them and bearing them up, the words are not distant enough and it hurts and I can’t say anymore.
Instead, this is what others have said in their grief:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
…let the mourners come. Auden
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan
In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. Jesus
***
And that's how this journey started........
Thanks for sharing from your heart these gut wrenching times...may the Lord Jesus continue to provide strength and hope! When my trial comes, and they always do in this life, I hope to have at least half of your courage and faith! <><
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