It happened sooner than I thought. I always knew that I would have to think about it but I thought I could catch a break for a little while.
My husband was helping me take a splinter I could barely see out of my toe and he glanced at my ankle and said, "Wow, that looks cancerous. You need to have that looked at."
I just stared at him. My chin quivered. Tears welled in my eyes and flowed down my face. He looked away. He didn't get it. I screamed out loud, "Why would you even say that to me?!"
I had been watching that smeary freckle on the side of my ankle for years. It didn't really change, until this past year, where it grew a tiny, pin head sized dot of dark, dark brown. I promised myself I would get around to it, but I just didn't want to see another doctor. I didn't want to drive to the hospital. I didn't want to walk up to the receptionist and give my name and date of birth. I didn't want to wait in another waiting room. I didn't want to have my vitals taken. I wanted none of it. Medical fatigue.
I just had cancer. I can't have it again, right? NO! I am done with it. I haven't begun to heal emotionally, though physically I am doing quite well. Emotionally I am scarred.
But I did it. I made an appointment to see my doctor, who I love, and who hasn't seen me since she did my annual check up, and hasn't spoken to me since she gave me the news that I had DCIS.
I drove to the hospital without thinking, so many times I have done it this year. About a block away from the right hand turn into the street the hospital is on, tears streamed down my face. My stomach dropped. I let the tears fall. I don't need to hide them anymore. I am not embarrassed by them falling. it is not a sign of weakness but a sign of weary. My soul is weary from worry. It has been a year almost to the day that I had my first annual (and last) mammogram and i should've predicted these feelings, but I couldn't predict their intensity. It creeps in. I wish so hard that these anxiety feelings over the freckle are just that and its not cancer. I hope I have overreacted like a crazy person. My arms were shaking from nerves. I don't think my soul can take much more.
We had a good chat. She looked at it and said, "I don't like it." I told her to just take it all off. She looked at me and I said, "I had a shitty year. Please don't tell me its cancer." She doesn't sugar coat anything for me. She never has. She said, she wants me to see a dermatologist, and because of my cancer fatigue, she will put an urgent request in so I can just get it taken care of.
I asked her for the worst case scenario. She said, "If it is the worst stage melanoma, and the dermatologist cannot get enough skin around it for clear margins, you do chemotherapy."
I said, "no." She called the dermatologist on her cell phone and said to call me back on my cell phone ASAP. Because my doctor is the best doctor. And she is looking out for me - including my mental state.
While she was typing notes into the computer, she asked how I was feeling after my year fighting DCIS. I told her about how I wished there were more support groups on the east side and that DCIS seems to be hiding everywhere if you just open up, people come out of the woodwork as also having it. Or they know someone. I told her I was going to write a book about my journey. She stopped me and said, "What makes you think you aren't qualified to start a support group on the east side?" I answered that I thought a legitimate and safe support group needed an actual therapist (not just me waving my hands in the air) and maybe a nurse. She wrote down a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. She said, "Here is your therapist to work with. Start a support group."
I stopped breathing. She got up and I followed her out to see her receptionist (who I also missed in the year I haven't seen her). She said, looking back at me: "You are destined to do great things, friend."
I could've cried. I didn't this time, but I could've. I chatted a while with Ashley the receptionist and then got on my way. I stopped at the gym to do '80s bootcamp and then ran two miles to get the anger, fear and worry tired.
Should I cancel my Cancer Free Boob Party? I am undecided. I do have a lot to celebrate. But I am still scared. And I am tired of being a downer for everyone around me. Its exhausting (to everyone) for sure. But I have to move forward. It just seems really stupidly unfair that DCIS didn't require chemotherapy but a foot freckle would. I can't even handle that thought. Worst case scenario, I know. But after the year I had, it feels fair to think the worst and hope for the best.
Its never where I thought I would be. Maybe I never really thought of it. But after hearing my doctor say I was destined to do great things, I feel like.....I am going to.
Comments