It was right after my visit with Dr. T (see last post, where I was sitting waiting to see him again, and now this is what happened after I went in and talked about my pathology report) I was biting down on the inside of my lip for a while yet again as I'm now back in the waiting room for the third time in the span of one appointment at the front waiting on the extremely busy receptionist to schedule my next grouping of appointments, I want to l-e-a-v-e and I was pretty worried about drawing blood because I'm totally abusing the inside of my mouth, and mouth sores are typical with my treatment, but I was doing it anyway. I had a bad experience with the doctor. Not sure why I’m not getting to the point, I just smoked a bit so that may explain it, but the doctor told me the pathology did come back on my tumour and it was negative for whatever hormone they wanted it to have, which isn’t actually a good thing, despite how it sounds. It means that the other treatment option they had that they were gonna give me after radiation I’m not eligible for because a specific hormone needs to be present in my cancerous tumour. It's good I guess that I'm not getting hormone treatment pumped into me, or that sounds like a good thing to me, but that treatment does bring the percentage of recurrence down a bit if eligible for this, which I'm not. I'll do chemo, then radiation and then they monitor me for the rest of my life. I had the following dreaded thought inside his examination room while I was sitting by myself kicking my dangling feet on the table: I’m going to most likely die of this one day and I'm most likely going to battle this again and again until I do. My feet stop swinging at this horrific -but still true- revelation. Have I before now even allowed myself this thought? I don't know. Why I decided to verbally enquire into this line of thinking at that moment with the doctor while such negative thoughts were swirling is a mystery to me. I can't be on and up all the time and I'd be lying and doing no justice to myself or anyone else reading this to state otherwise. The mind does go to crazy places at inopportune times, doesn't it? I got upset because when he returned to the exam room, I asked him a question about the recurrence of cancer in someone my age with my type of tumour and I didn't like the answer, obviously. But you do have to ask. He's a doctor and he has to be honest and up front with me and I shouldn't have asked until I was in the right state of mind to deal with his answers but now I'm upset and want to go absorb and feel sorry for myself and blubber incoherently to no one cuz it's therapeutic to do so. What he said to me is kinda a big deal, and I don’t know what I feel. Right now as I'm writing about the past experience, I'm feeling definitely strong and I’d even say positive, it is an act? Can I really be this realistic and inspired even? I mean, I still obsess about my weight and hair and frivolous stupid things, I still get aggravated with my family and friends, I still laugh at self-deprecating humour, my favourite all time movie is now Superbad and I watched that after my diagnosis, none of that's changed, I'm still living and laughing, I still love hearing stupid gossip and still watch ET, so I’m normal that way, but don’t I now feel different because of this whole experience and different in a good way? Scratch that; I am different because of this whole experience. Anyway, that day in the office, I got upset, but I was able to bite my lip and almost get through it. Then the nurse comes in to the exam room as I'm practicing breathing deep breaths and fluttering my eyes towards the ceiling to keep the water in, and hands me my prescription, but she forgets one of the meds and has to go get it, I’m still managing the 'holding it together' part and then she comes back in and sees that I’m about to crack, and says 3 dreaded empathetic soft spoken words with the hand on my shoulder… “Are you okay?” I mean come on! So a whimper seeped out but I managed to catch it and chuck it back down. "Fine." Jump off the table. Look at my face and know I don't want another word spoken. One more step and home free. The nurses station to get my appointments booked and printed, then mercifully to my car to cry and release. This unrelentingly takes another 30 minutes and it’s so not their fault, the poor staff is worked so hard and they manage to appear so happy and are so efficient! For the most part Princess Margaret staff are absolutely amazing (refer to future post regarding why there's a 'for the most part'). I now have appt slip in hand, have kept it together, and am striding (running) out the clinic, gaze of stone on my face. As I’m heading towards the stairs, a lady-with-a-clipboard had just marched out the other exit of the clinic looking around but sees me and is walking purposefully towards me staring right at me, coming right at me, no way around her. Friends, here's a belly laugh for you guys and you are about to be nodding your head in firm emphatic agreement, so let's word in this way. I have a look about me. I don't carry a look on my face that says "approach me, I'm friendly." This isn't by mistake, it's by design. It has been crafted and perfected my whole life. (You can read more about my views on this look in the post titled 'For the amusement of my friends, me trying to rationalize my look') On this day at this time especially, I can only imagine the look on my face at this exact point in time and friends, I know that you're picturing it too!
But, fearlessly, this lady-with-the-clipboard stops me right there and starts with “Excuse me, I’ve been waiting for you, I hope you don’t mind, I can see you’re in a hurry but if you just have a sec” I nod to confirm definitively that I am obviously in a hurry (I'm practically jogging) at the same time she’s saying ‘have a sec’ but I do stop. I am so touched by this compassion that I’m being shown, but I’m also really not good under those circumstances, I almost get emotional right there and I’m soooo not a good crier and right at this very moment I'm a ticking time bomb of pent up anger/emotion/feelings and cannot have this explosive release of any of it happen to me when I'm by myself like that in the middle of the busy hospital. Through sheer will I'm still able to hold it together today. Some people get through conversations so well crying, like Amber from Big Brother 8, but I’m just not one. Don’t wanna talk when I’m crying or about to, just wanna g-o. She tells me about this conference coming up at the beginning of November for young women with breast cancer and here’s some info on this (hands me some pamphlets) as young women have felt it difficult to get targeted info on breast cancer for their age group so what she was saying was just so perfect and exactly what I've been feeling and experiencing and truly, I wanted to hear every word, but I really, unfortunately, had to run right then. It's too bad in hindsight that I couldn't stop to talk with her (I do mean couldn't, not didn't) as she had been literally waiting for me to finish my appt so she could speak with me (so so sooo touching!) She asked when I’d be back, I told her Wednesday, just 2 days from now, so she gave me stuff to read, and then I was off like lightning. Sunglasses on and I think I leaked a bit before I got to my car, but just a small crack, not a dam of tears. I almost lost it completely, but managed my way through it and then it’s over, I have my moment with myself and I’m good again.
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