Actually, I think the whole thing just built on earlier confusion: Before my biopsy, which was day surgery, I had seen my gynecologist who had not come out and said for certain that I had cancer, but had said she was "very concerned." I had had a mammogram only a month earlier because I was having pain (another myth: cancer does not cause pain) and received a "no significant changes--see you next year" letter, with the standard disclaimer about how some cancers are not detected through mammography (what I learned from this was, disclaimers are there for a reason), and gone happily on my way. She had sent me for more mammograms. It took a sonogram and six mammograms to get whatever it was they needed. Expressions were guarded, and I was given no information. That day, I would describe as frightening and painful, and somewhat confusing. I had spoken with my surgeon, who was the person brave enough to tell me that it looked like I had cancer and she was "very concerned" about how fast it was changing. At my request, she performed a needle biopsy in her office. The results of the needle biopsy had indicated cancer. So, as far as I was concerned, the purpose of this procedure was to determine what to do about the cancer, not whether it was there. I arrived early in the morning, had an IV started, the usual releases and instructions by the surgeon, anesthesiologist and nurse, then off to the operating room. Now whatever it is that they give you for this surgery, you are awake the entire time, but life is wonderful! I have never felt so happy. Here I was having a biopsy for my cancer, tapping my fingers to the music on the radio and just having the happiest thoughts. I think I understand why my arms were restrained. I can't remember when I have had such a good time. I heard my surgeon say "now this doesn't look like cancer." Even in my euphoric state, I realized that she was probably looking at some fibrocystic area, and had not yet located the cancer. I don't remember her talking after that. I did ask what the radio station was, because I really liked the music. Near the end of the procedure, I was beginning to wake up a little bit, and I remember telling the doctor I was feeling little "ouchy." (This reminds me of a friend who has had more than one biopsy. She is so funny, and extremely pretty. When we were talking about my biopsy and what a great time I had, she said that she knew just what I was talking about, except that she had LIED ABOUT HER WEIGHT, and came out of the anesthesia a little too early.) After the procedure, I was taken back to day surgery waiting. As if it wasn't strange enough that I was enjoying the whole thing, the anesthesia guy came in to see how I was, and told me the doctor had GOOD NEWS. This seemed unbelievable to me, but who was I to question this guy? There must have been some mistake. So I was happy, but confused because everyone had been telling me I had cancer. When the surgeon came in, she told me that I did, indeed have cancer. Now this seemed more consistent with what I had been told, and I was prepared for and OK with this. I looked over at my husband, and for the first time realize that he was not prepared for and OK with this news. We had both had the same information. I guess he had been hoping that it was a mistake while I had been adjusting to accepting the reality of it. He looked so sad and disappointed. I felt so sorry for him. I don't believe the surgeon had talked to the rest of my family. I was glad I didn't have to confirm the news to everyone. I believe my husband was the one who had to tell my family I had cancer. The surgeon explained that there had been an area biopsied that was not cancer. (That must have been why the anesthesia guy thought the whole thing was benign. I realize he wanted to share good news with me, but I wish he would not have said anything. It just got my husband's hopes up.) She said that the cancer looked like it was about six centimeters (I was so uninformed about cancer at the time that I was not any more concerned than I would have been if she had said one centimeter) and that it was very near my chest wall. I asked her if it was treatable. She said it was very treatable, and that I would have chemotherapy to "reduce the size of it" before it was removed, then possibly some radiation in case there were any cancer cells in my chest wall. This was OK by me. I was home by two o'clock. I had a very small incision. When I got home, I went for a walk. After that, I spent lots of time on the phone with friends explaining the procedure and the results. Like I said, it was a very confusing day.
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He is before all things, Colossians 1:17 |
If I had to choose a day as the most
confusing day of my life, this would definitely be it.