But Indeed It Is

I found out I had breast cancer during a very strangely timed phone call minutes before I left for work.  It was not the World's Best Way to find out, but then no way is.

I was going in later that day, planning to stay for our evening hours. Nick was home, on a conference call.  I still do not understand the inability of the breast center to call my cell phone, but on this occasion, it worked.  The doctor of do you have a breast surgeon fame called me, and told me very plainly that while not all the pathology was back, it was positive for breast cancer.  She informed me that a coordinator would be calling me to set-up appointments. And that was that.

I told Nick.  I cried.  And then I got in the car and drove to the office.  

When I told my friend E this part of the story, she was incredulous.  But to me, it made perfect sense.  I like work. I like being there.  I like the people I work with.  It's sometimes frustrating and sometimes you don't feel like you make enough of a difference, but I am happy with what I do for a living and where I do it. I feel like I get to let go of some of my baggage at work, and just do what I am meant to at that time.  And we have fun.  We laugh.

So naturally, my coworkers were some of the first people I told.  It was pretty awful to see their faces crumple into tears, to watch the expressions that had been hopeful change to sorrowful. They did what every person after them did - told me they would see me through it.  


The next day, I went back to the hospital and had my blood drawn for genetic testing. The phlebotomist was very young and not very well trained in customer service.  At one point she told me to "cheer up" and that "things could always be worse".  (Maybe, but probably not on day two of a cancer diagnosis). Then she stuck a needle in my hand, which caused it to cramp up for days afterwards.   My right breast hurt. My right hand hurt. That night, when I went out for dinner with a friend, I couldn't see the menu because the room was too dark. I was massaging a sore hand, cradling a sore breast, and holding the menu up to the light. My (younger) friend was offering to read it for me.  I felt about 80.  I was a mess.

It seemed slightly ridiculous that this was my life, but there it was. It was laugh or cry. I laughed.