Up the down cancer case

The excitement of being told my whole-body PET scan was “clear” (other than the cancerous tumor slated for excision) lasted precisely 24 hours.

Then my surgeon called to talk “next steps.” She mentioned a conversation she’d had earlier in the day with my radiation-oncologist and my hematological-oncologist. They are up to date with my case -- and on board for chemotherapy and radiation following surgery, she told me.

Oh-so casually those words slipped through her lips and into my ear as I stood in the parking lot outside Best Buy on a cell phone that didn’t work at all inside the store and worked only intermittently in the parking lot. (Must I remind you how much I hate telephones?)

I tried to stay tuned to what else she was telling me, but I was stuck on 1) “chemo and radiation” and 2) frustration with cell phones in windy parking lots.

That night I had my first meltdown. (Before that, for eight days, I’d been the leading lady in an inspirational made-for-TV movie depicting an exemplary attitude in the face of personal hardship.)

Having had a few brushes with death during my first experience with chemo almost four years ago, the idea of doing it all again brought bad-attitude thoughts to the fore. Then angry thoughts. Then crazy stuff like “I wish I’d have had been riddled with cancer; then my decision would be so much easier.”

This morning, equilibrium reigns once more. I have appointments for another ultrasound and an EKG on Monday. Surgery date is still outstanding, as it involves coordination between my breast surgeon and a plastic surgeon I met with last Monday. (That visit deserves a post of its own, as the “nip and tuck” guys fascinate me.) The plastic guy comes into play because the gaping hole from tumor excision is anticipated to be bigger than the available tissue to close the hole. Apparently plastic surgeons have tricks for that sort of thing that regular surgeons do not. So at best, surgery will happen within the week.

Then, finally, the removed tumor can be fully analyzed with details of treatment to follow.

Oh joy.

(Here are photos of days I have thoroughly enjoyed recently. Readers who know these people don’t need further explanation and those who don’t aren’t likely to care.)

(Mary and Mary were proud to both be wearing riekers.)