Scan results
An early appointment on Wednesday brought us back to Kelvin's clinic to see whether my cancer had spread or not. The CT radiographer had told me that although the images of my scan were available immediately, the report would take 7-10 days, so I was hopeful but not necessarily expecting the CT results, as it had only been a couple of days before.
Greg and I barely spoke on the way there, as I just think we knew what the other was thinking and feeling, and we didn't need to articulate it. We didn't need to make it any more real than it was. We've both 'catastrophized' what could be, and then brought ourselves back from that. We've both considered that I might have to live with cancer long term and die early. Or worse. We've both envisaged what that might mean for him, for me. For me and for him. For our families. For our friends. Even though I know I push the thoughts away, its naïve to think they aren't there. I just don't dwell. Greg - and my dad - both catastrophize on lots of stuff, and where they are responsible, can tend to get locked in a downward spiral. But when they need to be strong for me, they pull themselves back. They focus on the light and the positives. They're strong for me, and for themselves and all the other people in our lives. We're strong together.
It was good news. The bone scan was clear, and the relief from Greg and I was palpable. I forgot all of the questions I might have had swimming around in my mind, and didn't ask anything that I'd meant to.
We talked about surgery and pencilled 13th December in. Greg laughed as like last time, I said no to the first date, I'm too busy! I briefly explained the 'shaping the future library' focus groups that are scheduled that week and the notion of not having physical books in our academic library and Kelvin exploded with support for the printed book! And then told us how he occasionally goes to Cardiff University library to look at his PhD thesis - with an unbroken spine, and the dedication at the front where he forgot to thank his mother - so she now uses her copy as a door stop. I'm tempted to go and break that spine for him, scribble some notes in the margins (in a light pencil) and make him feel loved.
We discussed whether to have a full mastectomy or a lumpectomy. The size of the tumour only needs a lumpectomy (properly known as a wide local excision, or WLE), but he gave me the option of both. He confirmed, again, that a full mastectomy gives me the same chances of cancer returning, but slightly improves - by just a few percentage points - the chance of a local recurrence. Knowing this made me feel confident it was all that I needed, I wouldn't put myself - or Greg - through bigger surgery and recovery, plus all of the reconstruction that I'd want if it wasn't going to have a significant benefit. Everyone seemed relieved with this decision. I'll be in and out in day, which will be great.
I'm rather looking forward to finishing work even earlier than I had planned. I have the week of the 18th as annual leave anyway, so will now finish on the 12th December and won't go back until 3rd January. Yep, OK, so I have to have some surgery, anaesthetic, and will probably be a tad sore for a few days, but its a small price to pay for saving your life. And I'm sure I can still do some crochet!!!
So I didn't ask any questions, so they're here, for next time. I have to go back next week for the CT scan results, but I'm allowing myself to believe it will be clear now. I really am.
But I'll still ask: Is it definitely a new primary? Am I definitely not having chemo or herceptin? How are they sure lymph nodes aren’t involved (the ultrasound took a quick look, but that’s all)? Will it be 3 weeks of radiotherapy again? Will I have drains after my surgery this time? (I hope not).
Greg and I barely spoke on the way there, as I just think we knew what the other was thinking and feeling, and we didn't need to articulate it. We didn't need to make it any more real than it was. We've both 'catastrophized' what could be, and then brought ourselves back from that. We've both considered that I might have to live with cancer long term and die early. Or worse. We've both envisaged what that might mean for him, for me. For me and for him. For our families. For our friends. Even though I know I push the thoughts away, its naïve to think they aren't there. I just don't dwell. Greg - and my dad - both catastrophize on lots of stuff, and where they are responsible, can tend to get locked in a downward spiral. But when they need to be strong for me, they pull themselves back. They focus on the light and the positives. They're strong for me, and for themselves and all the other people in our lives. We're strong together.
It was good news. The bone scan was clear, and the relief from Greg and I was palpable. I forgot all of the questions I might have had swimming around in my mind, and didn't ask anything that I'd meant to.
We talked about surgery and pencilled 13th December in. Greg laughed as like last time, I said no to the first date, I'm too busy! I briefly explained the 'shaping the future library' focus groups that are scheduled that week and the notion of not having physical books in our academic library and Kelvin exploded with support for the printed book! And then told us how he occasionally goes to Cardiff University library to look at his PhD thesis - with an unbroken spine, and the dedication at the front where he forgot to thank his mother - so she now uses her copy as a door stop. I'm tempted to go and break that spine for him, scribble some notes in the margins (in a light pencil) and make him feel loved.
We discussed whether to have a full mastectomy or a lumpectomy. The size of the tumour only needs a lumpectomy (properly known as a wide local excision, or WLE), but he gave me the option of both. He confirmed, again, that a full mastectomy gives me the same chances of cancer returning, but slightly improves - by just a few percentage points - the chance of a local recurrence. Knowing this made me feel confident it was all that I needed, I wouldn't put myself - or Greg - through bigger surgery and recovery, plus all of the reconstruction that I'd want if it wasn't going to have a significant benefit. Everyone seemed relieved with this decision. I'll be in and out in day, which will be great.
I'm rather looking forward to finishing work even earlier than I had planned. I have the week of the 18th as annual leave anyway, so will now finish on the 12th December and won't go back until 3rd January. Yep, OK, so I have to have some surgery, anaesthetic, and will probably be a tad sore for a few days, but its a small price to pay for saving your life. And I'm sure I can still do some crochet!!!So I didn't ask any questions, so they're here, for next time. I have to go back next week for the CT scan results, but I'm allowing myself to believe it will be clear now. I really am.
But I'll still ask: Is it definitely a new primary? Am I definitely not having chemo or herceptin? How are they sure lymph nodes aren’t involved (the ultrasound took a quick look, but that’s all)? Will it be 3 weeks of radiotherapy again? Will I have drains after my surgery this time? (I hope not).
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