So, the call came in from ‘Private Caller’ tonight around dinner hour, and as per usual it’s mayhem around here. I answer on the phone that I just dumped into the bathtub whilst trying to rescue one of my drains that had gone for a swim, and so I have no idea who it is calling me. Switch phones. Quiet boys down temporarily. Give up. Change rooms. Apologize to whomever it is who is exhibiting incredible patience with me on the other line.
Hi Tanya. It’s Dr. (Insert name of surgeon who did double mastectomy, lymph node dissection and who informed me three weeks ago that she would call me the minute she had the pathology report in her hands).
(Stop breathing. Cry a little. Inhale sharply. Sit down. Stand up. Pace.)
Oh. Hi. Okay. I’m ready. Tell me.
(Preamble) She took out 17 lymph nodes. Two were identified as cancerous during surgery, which leaves me the very small window of one more cancerous lymph node before they classify me as Stage Three. This is terrifying.
Her news? 3 of said 17 nodes have cancer in them, the third literally containing ‘a couple of cells’ that are infected. They removed 6 – yes, 6 tumours from my left breast, all cancerous, and the right breast turned up clean as a whistle. All margins are clean. Go ahead and make plan for chemo and radiation, girl, and we have every reason to believe this is totally treatable.
‘So am I happy or sad right now?’
Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say Stage Two is good news, but it’s what we were expecting, and certainly nothing worse.
I’ll take it.
YAY STAGE TWO!!!