My Diagnosis

​At 1:50pm I got a phone call from the hospital.  I let it roll to voicemail.  I listened, it was Dr. Sanan asking me to call him back on his cell phone. Shit, what surgeon gives out his cell phone? I rushed outside and called back.  He started saying something about how he was right to be worried, and that I have breast cancer.  Excuse me?  I had to ask him to repeat himself as all the blood in my head rushed to my stomach.  I could feel my voice catch in my throat as I mumbled my yesses and mmmhmms as he spoke.  He rattled off the positives (are there in this situation?): it’s close to the surface, any deeper and we wouldn’t have noticed.  It’s a small tumor, I’m young.  Jason (I haven’t told him at this point) and I are meeting him at 10am tomorrow at the hospital - he’s coming in on a Saturday for me, when no one else will be there.  I can’t decide if it’s because it’s very very serious or if he wants to be aggressive with treatment.  I’m going with option two.

We finalize our plans and hang up.  Five minutes later Lynnae calls to see how I’m doing.  She says she’d like to be at the appointment tomorrow.  Love her.  I might make her my new best friend.  She answers my preliminary questions: do we know what stage it is? (can’t tell until after surgery), how fast will the treatment process go? (MRI and genetic counseling scheduled for Monday, surgery by the end of next week), whether my insurance will cover this? (yes).  My last question: what if I’m pregnant right now?  I’m due to get my period tomorrow and yes, Jason and I have been trying.  Lynnae and I decide that I should take a test today so I can go to the meeting tomorrow with as much information as possible.  We hang up, I go to the bathroom.  Relief, I notice some spotting.  I take the test anyway and it’s negative.  At the very least, I’m not having to restrict any possible treatments or worse, terminating a pregnancy. 

Jason’s on his way home right now - I’m sure he already knows it’s what we were afraid of (my text to him before I left work: “can you come home?”).  How do you tell your husband that you have cancer?

Jas and I at a Packer game last fall - MUCH happier (and oblivious) times