Like the familiarity of putting on a worn in pair of jeans, we were back at the doctor today for a pre-op. The good news is that everyone really likes us there, and were so excited that we were married. Several people commented on my new name ("I wasn't sure it was you!") but everyone seemed genuinely happy to see us. That's always nice. And they LOVED seeing wedding pictures. I will say that one thing that is very sad about having the other breast removed is that I won't get to see these good people as much. I truly am disappointed about that. That's a really good feeling to have, though, to want so much to see these people, despite how many times delivered bad news!
I went into this appointment with mixed emotions. As I said, it was very familiar, because we already knew all the information. It felt more like a formality than anything else. So fear was not a part of the mix. But there was sadness, for how real this is getting - again. I suppose there was some anger, and some anxiety. There was a lot of tiredness. I'm just spent on all this. I want to experience joy or relief when I wake up from surgery, but I'm not so sure I will. I'm imagining grumpiness right now.
One of the reasons I went in today was to have a mammogram and an ultrasound, just to make sure there is nothing suspicious in there. I realized that this was my last mammogram ever. Seems like good news, but again, I almost felt some sadness about this because I actually really like the ladies who do those, even though I don't like the scan itself. I will miss those girls! After two pictures and an ultrasound, everything came out clear: my right breast remains cancer-free.
Another thing that should have seemed like good news, right? But strangely enough, I was a little disappointed. If they had found cancer today, it would have confirmed that I definitely need to have this mastectomy. A little DCIS would have helped my heart, I think - nothing life-threatening, but something to convince my heart that this is indeed a joyful thing I'm doing. What a twisted place to be, to wish they had found cancer. What's that about?
We sat in a consult room waiting for Dr. Skinner, quiet and too comfortable. We've been in such a room too many times before. When she walked in, she said, "How you are you doing?"
"Eh. I'm doing."
"Are you ready for this?"
"No."
"Do you want to postpone it?"
"No."
I told her postponing it is just postponing the inevitable, prolonging the anxiety, pretending something doesn't exist that we most certainly know does. We talked a bit about the importance of being ready, a similar conversation as we had last time. I expressed to her some of what is on my heart these days - feeling grateful all the while that I have a doctor who cares about these things, who knows that this is a part of healing. She said, "If we could be 100% sure that if or when something else comes up, we could catch it as early as we did the other ones and get it out with no trouble, then yeah, we could wait. But I can't give you that guarantee." I agreed, and said I mostly just feel sad and discouraged about this. She said, "You're a woman of faith, you know what to do about that!" I said sometimes it is a lot easier to be a woman of faith for other people - how much easier it is to see something from the outside and know just what to do! Luckily, I have a perceptive and thoughtful husband to help me with that.
After we talked about some of the surgery details and signed the consent, I asked if she had time to see some wedding pictures. She immediately put on her glasses and came to sit next to me, and Michael and I joyfully shared some of our favorite pictures with her. She probably doesn't get to see something like that too often with her patients, so it was probably as fun for her as it was for us! I hope that some day we will be able to walk into the breast care center not with an iPad full of photos, but with a bundle of new life. Won't that be a happy day!
So there we are. One step closer to the surgery. I didn't cry, so there's that. I still feel sort of numb about the whole thing - I'm just out of emotion. I was so intentional last time around, reading books about how to prepare for mastectomy, and trying to do all the right things. This time... whatever. I don't care. I'm a sponge that has been squeezed dry of emotion, after everything we have been through this year. I don't have any more energy for this business. I'll do this thing, but I guess I'm sort of apathetic about it. I suppose that's better than being angry about it. I'll take it.
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