A Talk With the Doctor

(Originally written 12:00am, February 4, 2009)

After Monday night, I had to call in sick for part of Tuesday. I was emotionally wrung out and still terrified. Although, when I woke up, I felt completely at peace, which was a nice feeling.

Plus, Megan was sick and I couldn't think well enough to figure out what to do about that.

At 9am, I was finally able to drag myself out of bed and start moving. The first thing I did was call my Doctor's office. Up until now, I hadn't been able to talk to her-- and I really needed too. I wanted her to give me something that would calm me down. I wanted hope.

Barely functioning, I somehow managed to oversee Meg getting dressed, find a place for her to go for the afternoon since school was out of the question, and get myself dressed. As I write this, I have no idea if we ate anything, though I have a vague recollection of a box of Mac n' Cheese crackers and Capt'n Crunch somewhere in the equation.

Then, at 1pm, my Doctor called. I don't remember much of the call, just that I was basically incoherent in my explanation of how well I wasn't coping; and, how badly I needed another explanation for why there was a huge lump in my breast.

She stated that it could be... a big word I can't remember... and that the mass wasn't connected to anything like muscle or nodes (a plus in that most invasive cancers are connected to something that carries the cancer cells to other parts of the body). She also said that it was movable, which is a good thing., and, that if it was cancer, we'd get through it.

She also made me promise that I would not get on the internet again. I bargained for my facebook page, and we had a deal.

Hope feels so good. The wait for results does not, and I won't have them until Friday.

I went into work, numb but needing to get things done. Grateful that friends were offering to pray for me. No longer hiding my terror. Happy that my boss understood. I got there at 1:30pm and worked until 8pm-- a little short on the hours, but productive none-the-less.

As I write this, it is 12am Wednesday morning and my biopsy is in 10 hours. I'm still scared, but it isn't the mind blowing terror of the night before. I'm not even sure I have the energy for that again. Surely, it would be more devastating than anything else could be since I was literally making myself sick.

I'm going to take another Ativan and go to sleep, and pray that this trial is soon to be over. Or, at the very least, it has direction and an end that ensures a future.