My mom is having yet another surgery tomorrow. This will be the second in the last 10 days unless of course you want to count the 2 biopsies before that and then we would be up to 4 procedures.
Tomorrow's procedure is to perform a biopsy of the lymph nodes and to try to get clean margins where the cancer is. The scan on Monday shows that it appears to only be in the one breast for now.
I am counting the days until I see my doctor. I could really use some clinical reassurance that my breasts are changing because I am aging and losing weight and for no other reason.
The funny thing about cancer is everyone has a story. You tell them that your mom has breast cancer and they all offer you some story of someone they know that had it and made it though. I know that these stories are meant to be reassuring but it's hard to hear them. They are all of someone you don't know, a stranger. Someone who is outside your whacked up family.
My mom is still adament about celebrating my birthday this Sunday ( a week late) even though she is having surgery on Thursday. I don't know who she is trying harder to prove nothing will change to, me or her. I love her for it but it seems so weird. I mean, I feel a little like time should stop until this is over. Is that wrong?
I bought a fish the day we found out my mom had cancer. I called my sister to talk about it and my mom answered her phone. I was trying to navigate the parking lot around East Towne and my mom goes, "I have cancer". Luckily I had it together enough to get into a parking spot where it hit me fully what she said. So there I sat, in the parking lot at Jc Penny, sobbing. That is how I found it. Funny thing is, I don't think I'll forget that. The weird part was as I was driving home, it looked like the sun was trying to come out. That seemed wrong but at the same time like some omen like everything was going to be ok.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
March 1
I saw my mom this weekend. It was weird, we all acted like everything was fine, except talking a little bit about what was going on and making the obvious jokes about cancer. I found myself unable to stop looking at my mother's breasts. She was wearing this aqua shirt, it was not like there was a big flag on one of them that said, "hey! ticking time bomb here!" I mean , you would think that there should be.
My mom cried when I left. I told her I was certain it was a lipoma and the doctor was wrong. She just gave me a look.
I made it to the car and out of the driveway before I cried.
I didn't come right home last night. I stopped to spend some time with some friends and their baby girl. It was good, because no matter what is happening, life doesn't stand still.
My dad called me this morning about 9:00 am to tell me that they did the ultrasound already. They found a second spot and aparently again the phrase it doesn't look good was again uttered.
This is so different with Dad calling being the giver of the information. I mean, when he got sick, it was my mom, telling us about what the doctor said, trying not to cry. My dad gave me the facts and then scolded me for not immediately answering the phone when he called.
There is an appointment with the surgeon at 3 pm today. Everything is moving so fast. Is it because it looks that bad? Is it because everyone at the hospital knows my mom and is pulling strings? Is is just a light day?
So I talked to a friend of mine because I feel guilty for caring on like normal today. I mean I've been cleaning like Marta Stewart herself is coming to visit, checking the internet for any kind of exciting communication, eating cheese, watching my "stories", making plans for fun things. She reassured me that this was ok. I feel like it shouldn't be but what else is there today. I feel like until the surgeon gets in there and we see the actual cancer cells, we don't know what we are up against. Until there is PET scan, we don't know if there anymore cancer. Either way, life goes on , right?
My mom cried when I left. I told her I was certain it was a lipoma and the doctor was wrong. She just gave me a look.
I made it to the car and out of the driveway before I cried.
I didn't come right home last night. I stopped to spend some time with some friends and their baby girl. It was good, because no matter what is happening, life doesn't stand still.
My dad called me this morning about 9:00 am to tell me that they did the ultrasound already. They found a second spot and aparently again the phrase it doesn't look good was again uttered.
This is so different with Dad calling being the giver of the information. I mean, when he got sick, it was my mom, telling us about what the doctor said, trying not to cry. My dad gave me the facts and then scolded me for not immediately answering the phone when he called.
There is an appointment with the surgeon at 3 pm today. Everything is moving so fast. Is it because it looks that bad? Is it because everyone at the hospital knows my mom and is pulling strings? Is is just a light day?
So I talked to a friend of mine because I feel guilty for caring on like normal today. I mean I've been cleaning like Marta Stewart herself is coming to visit, checking the internet for any kind of exciting communication, eating cheese, watching my "stories", making plans for fun things. She reassured me that this was ok. I feel like it shouldn't be but what else is there today. I feel like until the surgeon gets in there and we see the actual cancer cells, we don't know what we are up against. Until there is PET scan, we don't know if there anymore cancer. Either way, life goes on , right?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
February 27
My Saturday started just like all the others.
My friend Nancy called at 5 something in the morning during her hour and half long commute to work. We talked for a while. I told her I had to go, I was going back to sleep for half an hour and then getting up to go to my Saturday morning Weight watcher’s meeting.
I eventually got up, got showered and left to go. I went to weight watchers, I lost 2.6 pounds, stopped at McDonalds for my normal coffee and sausage biscuit. Met a friend at the driving range, went to the dollar store, picked up new pictures. A Saturday just like all the others
I got home, and my mom called. I didn’t think much of it, we were planning a birthday party for my sister the next day. Nothing big, just the 5 of us, but there were still details to discuss.
I called my mom back, we made small talk, had I lost any weight this week, plans for the day, yada, yada. Then my mom took an exceptionally deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.” I thought oh crap, now what. Turns out my mom went for a mammogram on Friday. She just went because she thought she should have one. Turns out they found a 1 cm speculated mass in her breast. The worst part was that it wasn’t some random tech who found it, it was friend she worked with. The rad doctor too was a doctor she knew. And they were crying. Let’s be honest, you see enough stuff, you know what you are looking at. Don’t ever believe a tech when they tell you they need the doctor to look at it, they are the ones who tell the doctor where to look. So without the ultrasound, without the biopsy, they are fairly it will be cancer.
Talk about punching you in the gut. I didn’t cry on the phone with my mom, I waited until I got off the phone. And then I sobbed. I am for all practical purposes 35 now. If my mom has breast cancer, this changes my entire world. At 35 is when you need to start worrying about this yourself if you have a first degree relative. What if my mom… I mean there is so much she is still supposed to be there for me for.
I called my friends. They all tell you not to freak out, not to assume the worst, that it will be ok. I calm down. I call my mom back. Ask her if she would like some ass fat to reconstruct her breast if they do a mastectomy. She says they use the tissue from the person. I can’t catch a break. I also tell her if she dies before I have a baby, I won’t let her go to heaven. My mom believes you have to let people when they die. I also tell her that she is total control of this situation, more so than other in her life and she needs to remember that.
My day goes on, I surf the internet, I load the dishwasher, clean the fish tank, watch a friend’s baby. And then I come home and look at my breasts. I once had a lover that told me that boobies were meant to be cherished. He had no idea what he was saying or how his words would echo through my head tonight. I am sure that my mom and I look at our breasts differently. She is 55, been married for 37 years. Her breasts had nourished three children and comforted so many bad days and boo boos. They had lived a life. I look at mine as something I offer men along with my blonde hair. They define me. I miss the lover who had so tenderly caressed my boobies tonight. I will never look at them the same. Now they have taken on a new identity. They now just remind me of how scared I am now for my mother.
Inside my head, I’m battening down the hatches for the conflict in my family that I sure will come to a head, each sister some how trying to diminish my role, my need to help, my need to do something, somehow trying to prove that this is affecting them more severely.
I am praying and hoping that the doctor is wrong this one time. That they do the biopsy only to find it’s not cancer, but a lipoma. Regardless, today my life changed forever.
My friend Nancy called at 5 something in the morning during her hour and half long commute to work. We talked for a while. I told her I had to go, I was going back to sleep for half an hour and then getting up to go to my Saturday morning Weight watcher’s meeting.
I eventually got up, got showered and left to go. I went to weight watchers, I lost 2.6 pounds, stopped at McDonalds for my normal coffee and sausage biscuit. Met a friend at the driving range, went to the dollar store, picked up new pictures. A Saturday just like all the others
I got home, and my mom called. I didn’t think much of it, we were planning a birthday party for my sister the next day. Nothing big, just the 5 of us, but there were still details to discuss.
I called my mom back, we made small talk, had I lost any weight this week, plans for the day, yada, yada. Then my mom took an exceptionally deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.” I thought oh crap, now what. Turns out my mom went for a mammogram on Friday. She just went because she thought she should have one. Turns out they found a 1 cm speculated mass in her breast. The worst part was that it wasn’t some random tech who found it, it was friend she worked with. The rad doctor too was a doctor she knew. And they were crying. Let’s be honest, you see enough stuff, you know what you are looking at. Don’t ever believe a tech when they tell you they need the doctor to look at it, they are the ones who tell the doctor where to look. So without the ultrasound, without the biopsy, they are fairly it will be cancer.
Talk about punching you in the gut. I didn’t cry on the phone with my mom, I waited until I got off the phone. And then I sobbed. I am for all practical purposes 35 now. If my mom has breast cancer, this changes my entire world. At 35 is when you need to start worrying about this yourself if you have a first degree relative. What if my mom… I mean there is so much she is still supposed to be there for me for.
I called my friends. They all tell you not to freak out, not to assume the worst, that it will be ok. I calm down. I call my mom back. Ask her if she would like some ass fat to reconstruct her breast if they do a mastectomy. She says they use the tissue from the person. I can’t catch a break. I also tell her if she dies before I have a baby, I won’t let her go to heaven. My mom believes you have to let people when they die. I also tell her that she is total control of this situation, more so than other in her life and she needs to remember that.
My day goes on, I surf the internet, I load the dishwasher, clean the fish tank, watch a friend’s baby. And then I come home and look at my breasts. I once had a lover that told me that boobies were meant to be cherished. He had no idea what he was saying or how his words would echo through my head tonight. I am sure that my mom and I look at our breasts differently. She is 55, been married for 37 years. Her breasts had nourished three children and comforted so many bad days and boo boos. They had lived a life. I look at mine as something I offer men along with my blonde hair. They define me. I miss the lover who had so tenderly caressed my boobies tonight. I will never look at them the same. Now they have taken on a new identity. They now just remind me of how scared I am now for my mother.
Inside my head, I’m battening down the hatches for the conflict in my family that I sure will come to a head, each sister some how trying to diminish my role, my need to help, my need to do something, somehow trying to prove that this is affecting them more severely.
I am praying and hoping that the doctor is wrong this one time. That they do the biopsy only to find it’s not cancer, but a lipoma. Regardless, today my life changed forever.
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