Today is D-Day, but not actual D-Day. It’s my D-Day, Diagnosis day. I have an appointment with Dr. Impossible to See, though right now, his office is making it easy for me to schedule appointment with him.
Things at work are crazy, we’ve just launched a new system that I helped train. And now I’m lending support for the morning. I’m leaving at noon but until then I’m trying to keep things together. I just went for the biopsy last week so I called the office to make sure the results are in. They are and now I’m ready to jump out of my skin. After I make the call, I take a break. Stay away from the computer, just stay away. I go back to my desk, take a few deep breaths, and log into my online account.
New test results available. My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking. And there it is in black and white…. Ductal carcinoma in situ, nuclear grade 2, micropapillary and solid patern. DCIS covering a span of 0.5 cm. Possible small foci of solid papillary carcinoma. A follow-up appointment with a breast surgeon is recommended. In english, DCIS. Breast cancer. WTF???
The rest of my day at work was a blur. I’m in shock. I’m anxious. And I am scared to death. I leave work at noon and my appointment is at 2:30. I go home to change and freshen up. I log into my online account again and start consulting with Dr. Google. What is nuclear grade 2, micropapillary, and solid pattern? And how the hell did this happen? 80 percent of what’s seen on mammograms turn out to be nothing. Well, this ain’t nothing. This is something. Something very real.
There are a few things I should mention before I talk about the appointment. First, the older of my two brothers is a doctor and he has been my go to for the past few weeks. I like to bounce questions off him and get reassurance that this is nothing. The second is that my husband’s 40th birthday is in three days and his party is in two days. There’s a tent. a band, 50 guests. many moving parts, and no turning back.
On my way to the appointment, Dr. Brother calls me to see how I’m doing. I don’t let on that I know anything so I tell him I’m on my way and I’ll call him when I’m done. I’m at the office and checked in. It’s not as packed as last time. I wait and right at 2:30, I get called for my appointment. The nurse weighs me and takes my blood pressure. It is sky high and my heart is pounding out of my chest. Nurse Gatekeeper and I make small talk. She asks if I’m doing ok after the biopsy. I’m not in the mood to chat so I keep my answers short. She takes me to the exam room and I change into my gown, everything off from the waist up, opening to the front. Then she’s gone and I’m alone with my thoughts.
There’s a knock at the door and the doctor come in, not Dr. Impossible to see, but the next of the many residents I will see. He introduces himself and sits down. No doubt he’s wondering how he drew the short straw, getting to tell the 41 year old that she has breast cancer. He’s handsome but extremely serious. And he breaks down the diagnosis and treatment plan for me. Lumpectomy and radiation. Two words I was hoping I would never have to hear preceded by You need to have…..He assures me that I’m young and otherwise health. Everything will be just fine. I will learn to hate that assurance.
He leaves and comes back with Dr. Impossible to See and Nurse Amazing. The doctor explains everything that his resident already has but in more detail. None of this is foreign to me or even surprising. I already know what a DCIS diagnosis entails. Hearing the words, I can’t describe it. He also recommends genetic testing so that I can make a surgical decision. If I test positive for the gene, he explains, I may want to consider a mastectomy rather than just a lumpectomy. I agree to do it. I have no questions, I’m not sure I can think at this point. Doctor and resident shake my hand and they are out the door. Nurse Amazing steps out while I get dressed and she’s back soon.
She’s got a pink portfolio in her hands and a whole lot of reading material for me. She walks me through my diagnosis. Stage one. ER positive. PR positive. She takes the time to explain everything to me and introduce me to all of the resources that I may need in the next few months. She’s been involved in my care for several years and she tells me that no one was more surprised than she with the diagnosis. She tells me that someone from Medical Genetics will be in touch with me to set up the genetic testing. She’s amazing. Once she gives me everything I need to know and need to do, we stand up to leave. She hugs me and tells me that everything is going to be fine even if it doesn’t seem to be right now. Dr. Impossible to See wants to see me back in two weeks. I will meet with my medical oncologist, radiology oncologist, and a social worker. Sounds like the perfect way to spend a Thursday afternoon.
I check out with my next appointment scheduled and head home. Mars is out in the yard cutting the grass in preparation for the tent delivery in two days. I get choked up just thinking about having to tell him. He sees me on the deck and stops the tractor. He comes up and hugs me. I feel like he knows but I explain everything to him. He hugs be a little bit tighter and a little bit longer. He tells me everything is going to be ok. I believe him, but I’m not convinced. He goes back to the task at hand I call Dr. Brother. He, too, assures me since I am young and otherwise healthy that I will be fine. After I hang up with him, I sit on the recliner for a long time and cry. Once it’s out of my system, I pack it away in its appropriate compartment. I’ve got a birthday party to pull together….