I asked Doctor Brother to come to my appointment today to meet with my team. He met me at the Cancer Center just as I drove up. It was the first time he’s seen my shiny new, crazy, expensive, but I got a great deal on it, German car. “It’s made for you.” he says. Even though I’m sure he’s trying to make me feel better, I’m also sure he’s right. I look fabulous driving it. He waits for me to park and we walk up to the fourth floor together. I’m trying to be strong and I’m trying not to be nervous. The Academy Award will elude me.

You might be wondering why I didn’t ask Mars to be with me today. Well, I hesitate to say it’s about the path of least resistance. However, Mars is one of those people who get frustrated (translation angry) if he doesn’t understand something or if something doesn’t happen as he thinks it should. In short, this is stressful enough for me without worrying about him. Therefore, he’s at work and I can filter the information to him that I deem necessary. Even though he will play a strong supporting role, for the immediate future, everything about this situation needs to be about me.

I check in for my 9 o’clock appointment and I meet Doctor Brother in the waiting room. We chat about anything light, anything that will keep my mind off what I’m really here for. I know that my surgery will be scheduled with the oncology surgeon, Dr. Impossible to See. I will meet with the medical oncologist to talk about five years of Tamoxifen. And I will also meet with the radiation oncologist to talk about my seven weeks of radiation. Even though I’ve done my research and I’m pretty sure I know what to expect, I asked Doctor Brother to come with me to make sure I have the answers to everything I need to know. If I forget to ask something, he’s got my back.

We’re pretty early and a lot has happened in the last few weeks. Mars’ 40th birthday party, my diagnosis, and of course, the season finale of Game of Thrones. The office is a pretty serious place, no one is here because they want to be here, and most people won’t walk out of here after hearing good news. Doctor Brother and I talk a lot and I guess not quietly. I notice a few people get up and move away from us. We’re really not everyone’s cup of tea. We’re really quite delightful so I don’t take it personally.

And I’m up, the nurse calls me back, weighs me, and takes my blood pressure. It’s not good but the nurse can see the nervous look on my face. In addition to not winning the Academy Award, the World Series of Poker is also out of the question for me. We go back to the exam room and Doctor Brother waits outside while I change into my gown. It’s not my first rodeo, I’m wearing a shirt that is easy off and easy back on again. In the 30 seconds that it’s taken me to change, Doctor Brother has managed to strike up a conversation with a stranger in the hall. Clearly, I’m adopted.

Dr. Impossible to See is up first and he comes in with his entourage which includes his physician assistant, Nurse Amazing, and Doctor Brother. We discuss a lot of what we’ve discussed in my previous appointments. Doctor Brother makes it known that not only is he my brother, but he’s also a doctor. Not sure it makes a difference but the point has been made. I ask questions. He asks questions. The doctor explains the surgery and we decide that it’t time to put it on the books. He tells me I will do fine, I’m young and healthy. There it is again. I begin to wonder the truth in that statement. I sign the appropriate consent forms and Nurse Amazing leaves the room to get the “the book”. I find it interesting that they use a book to keep a calendar. Friday July 19 it will be. Doctor Brother commits to being available for me that day and it’s a done deal. I wonder if they’ve use pencil or pen to add my surgery to “the book”. That question will be answered in about two weeks.

The medical oncologist is up next and she comes alone. She asks Doctor Brother to step out while she does a physical exam. She is a lovely and soft-spoken Pakistani woman. The exam is thorough but quick. She confirms what everyone else has agreed upon, she can’t feel a lump or a mass. We discuss family history and she walks me through  what Tamoxifen will entail. Do I plan on having children? Nope, that ship has sailed. We discuss early menopause, possible weight gain, and hot flashes. She encourages me to stay active, work our, and eat healthy. It sounds like five years of fun to me. We talk about meeting again after the surgery, we shake hands, and she’s gone.

Queue up the radiation oncologist. Another lovely woman. She’s a little less soft-spoken but I immediately like her. Radiation, she explains, is five days a week and I meet with her one a week regarding my progress. We talk family history and side effects. My skin may seem like it’s sunburned. I’m going to be tired by the end of it all.  But I shouldn’t have any problems, after all I am young an healthy. I don’t really have any questions for her. I was with my mom during her radiation, she did it, I certainly can. We’ll get together to discuss more after my surgery, we explain pleasantries, and she too, is gone.

Doctor Brother is satisfied with everything he’s heard by now. He has a tee time to meet , so he leaves me before the social worker comes in. At last, I get to change back into my clothes before she comes in. Enter social worker. She’s a pleasant enough woman but by now I’m tired and just about checked out. She assures me that all will be ok, because guess what…..I’m young and healthy. Ugh. We discuss medical bills and medical leave from work. I already know I won’t be taking any but she assures me she will take care of the paperwork in the event I need her to. She lied. She gave me pamphlets and resources to consider. She offers to put me in touch with people my age dealing with the same diagnosis. I decline. I have Doctor Google and Doctor Brother.

When I’m done with her, I check out. The nice lady schedules my pre-surgical testing for the following Friday. I ‘m free to leave. It’s 12:30 and too late to get myself to work for a half day. I feel ok. I’m happy that the surgery is scheduled. I’m satisfied with my proposed plan of care. Mars is nowhere local. I head over to the mall for some pizza and a little reflection and retail therapy. My heart’s not into the shopping but the pizza was good.

My obsession with my on line account will thankfully continue for the next few weeks. I monitor it several times a day. I have yet to get the results from my genetic testing and I’ve already scheduled the surgery. Hope that works out. There will be some restless and sleepless nights ahead. But at least we have a plan.