9. The One with the Cancer

 Last time we left off with my lumpectomy.

I took two days off from work (again: how do I know I overdid it??) 

I wasn't in any pain, soreness was my chief complaint and I certainly wasn't going to sit around worrying about what would come next.

Luckily, September/October is a very busy time of year for our team and I was not short of work to do.

A week following the surgery I was on a plane to the ATL for a tradeshow. Still sore but having to cover for a co-worker who had grown a little too big for her boots and tradeshows were beneath her. (Luckily she has since taken her high horse, her nonexistent work ethic and her shitty attitude elsewhere). I hit the ground running and was putting out fires and manning the booth like the old tradeshow dog that I am.

There was little in the way of communication from the medical team up until this point. I finally broke down and called that Wednesday as I was almost coming out of my skin and was running out of Lorazepam to calm my jitters. 

Once I finally got someone on the phone I was informed that the original lab could not determine a clear diagnosis so the sample had been forwarded to the Cleveland Clinic for additional testing.

Oooooo, the Cleveland Clinic? That is medical fancy. I felt something akin to pride that my little lump had made it to the big time.




And somehow I talked myself into the notion that if they couldn't figure it out it wasn't going to be anything serious. All of a sudden I felt like the outcome might not be as dire as I had been dreading. 

For a few days I felt lighter and optimistic about what that meant. Maybe it was a one and done and the lumpectomy was the end of this journey (shit show, dumpster fire, attempted murder by body part).

I managed to enjoy my time at the tradeshow, getting to spend time with my work daughter.

She is on my ride or die list. I would do anything in the world for her and she has been a tremendous support to me. 

I am more than old enough to be her mom but we are truly peers. She saw me through the tough times in my marriage and she was one of the first people outside the core four to know about the cancer journey (whatever... not a journey) and had my back throughout.

 We had some fun dinners, great meetings and I was so happy to enjoy her company in person.

We made our way back to Boston after the show. 

I still had not heard from the medical team the following week. At that point we were a week out from our second biggest event of the year: 

The Mid Year Sales Meeting. There was a lot in the way of last minute prep and logistics that meant I didn't think much about the potential outcome of the test results. As time went on, I became more convinced it was a scary experience but probably nothing more.

At this point, let me remind you that I overthink EVERYTHING. At three o'clock in the morning I lay awake remembering that mean thing I said to that girl on the playground in the third grade. Don't remember her name but I was a shithead, a nine year old shithead. 40 years ago... but still. 

An endless loop of things I have said and done wrong over the course of my life, live rent free in my head at all hours of the day and night.

So the notion that I was all breezy about these test outcomes was weird. I should have already mentally shaved my head and picked out a chemo blanket if I had been handling this in my usual manner.

But the one time I decide to under react..... 


As a reminder: the test results from the original ultra sound had shown up in my e-chart. Cold and black and white with no explanation and little in the way of laymen terminology.

Somehow the biopsy results had been delivered via nurse and the BRACA test results via mail.
Given that the last two had not come through the e-chart, that the testing was taking weeks at this point and my doctor's promise that she would call me with the results meant I was fairly certain I wasn't going to be emailed a notification about whether or not I had cancer.

Oh sweetie.... I was truly not in my usual headspace. The Snow White optimism was so misplaced.




At 2 p.m. on Wednesday  October 20, 2021 I received a notification of a test result in my echart.

It never says WHAT test result it is so I clicked on it and here is what I read:

A. Left breast, lumpectomy:
- EXTENSIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA IN SITU, PAPILLARY, SOLID AND CRIBRIFORM TYPE WITH FOCAL MUCINOUS FEATURES (SEE SYNOPTIC REPORT AND COMMENT)
 
B. Additional left breast tissue, excision:
- EXTENSIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA IN SITU, LOW AND INTERMEDIATE NUCLEAR GRADE, CRIBRIFORM AND PAPILLARY TYPE WITH FOCAL MUCINOUS FEATURES

WHAT


THE


FUCK

My heart starts racing, my stomach tries to drop out of my body, I am shaking, I am sweating and I open a new browser window.

Sitting at my desk in an open office space, surrounded by the chitchat of phone calls and conversation.

I read this:

Ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) is a condition that affects the cells of the milk ducts in the breast. The cells lining the milk ducts turn malignant (cancerous) but stay in place (in situ). DCIS is an early form of breast cancer. It is not invasive — the malignant cells do not grow through the wall of the duct or spread to lymph nodes or the blood stream.

Here is I how I interpreted that:

Cancer

Cancer

Cancer


I didn't care where or what stage or invasiveness

All I saw was 


Cancer


Malignant




Luckily (?) the only other person in the office was my work daughter. I asked her to come over to my desk, my voice shaking and I showed her the screen. 

She was speechless, the fact that I had talked myself (and thereby everyone else) around me into the notion that it was fine, I'm fine, your fine. 
FINE 

FINE 

FINE

Meant that she was caught off guard. 
and the fact that I was sitting at my desk, on a sunny fall afternoon being told via email I had fucking CANCER was a gut punch to both of us.

She said "you need to go home" and I said "nope, I need to stay here and finish the day." She is like me in the fact that when we are up against it work is the best distraction. She gave me a hug and let me get back to it.

 I closed out of the browsers and got back to what I was doing All the while the back of my brain was on overdrive.

Do I call the doctor?

Do I call my mom?

Do I crawl under my desk and sob uncontrollably until the men in white coats come for me?

I did none of these. I finished what I was doing, packed up for the day and went out to my car.
Once there I turned on some tunes (everything is better with music)

And "This Woman's Work" by Kate Bush came on


I know you've got a little life in you left
I know you've got a lotta strength left
I should be cryin' but I just can't let it show
I should be hopin' but I can't stop thinkin'
All the things we should've said that are never said
All the things we should've done that we never did
All the things we should've given, but I didn't
Oh darlin', make it go
Make it go away


Really Kate Bush? 

Really?!!?


I have a lot of experience with crying in the car. I put on my shades and let the tears flow.
I was halfway home when I had collected myself enough to call Melissa (Quarter 1).
It was a litany of swears, screaming and crying. 
And she listened as I came all the way unglued.

I somehow managed to calm down enough to stop ugly crying. I was going 80 MPH (which is how I like it) with snot running down my face and one dislodged contact lens.

 And we talked through how I was going to tell my parents, my boss and in particular Josh (The Mud Puddle). At this point he was unaware that anything had been determined. He knew I had gone in for a 'procedure' but not the extent of what was possibly going down.

I got home, walked in circles for about an hour and then called my mom. I told her what I read, what Dr Google said it meant and all the things that could mean.

I think we both cried and I said I was going to take a bath, take my sleep meds and go to bed at roughly 7 p.m. There was no point in allowing this day to go on any longer.

I still hadn't reached out to the doctor because I was kind of (!!!) pissed they had let this happen.

I woke up the next morning and was working from home so was able to shout expletives and stare into middle space every once in a while.

Around noon time my phone rang, it was my doctor.

"Hi Kristi, I have your test results."

"Really? So do I."


Next time on Kris vs. Cancer: The one with the e-chart 

















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