As soon as the diagnosis sinks in and you have time to stop
crying and catch your breath, an onslaught of medical professionals come
beating down your door to take you under their wing. When people say you have a
team of doctors, they are truly not joking. Within one week of diagnosis I had
met with a surgeon, an oncologist, a radiologist, a gynecologist, a
reconstructive surgeon and a slew of nurses and assistants. I have had my blood
drawn, genes coded, an MRI, a mammogram, an ultra sound, my IUD removed, and a
few new drug prescriptions. Within the
next week I will be also meeting with a fertility specialist, a nutritionist, a
counselor, a peer advocate, some repeats of previously listed people, and, if I’m
lucky, a hair stylist! More on the hair later…
Every single person
has a lot of valuable information and I really do feel fortunate to have such a
satiated network of brilliant helpful people, it can be just completely
overwhelming and exhausting. Now as someone who doesn’t even have a primary
care physician, I tend not to spend too much time in doctor’s offices, and it
has been some minor culture shock (and before anyone freaks out unnecessarily, I
have an OBGYN and that has been the extent of my medical needs for the past 5
years). Most every appointment means
missing at least half a day of work (a lot of times more), and I am considered
a new patient at every doctor I go to see. As a new patient, that means I get to fill out
almost the same damn paper packet for every damn office I go to. It didn’t
matter that my oncologist is LITERALLY ACROSS THE HALL from my surgeon; I had
to fill out the SAME EFFING 10 PAGE PAPER PACKET!!!! Even though I have
repeatedly answered the majority of questions that these monotonous behemoths
have, it still takes upwards of 30 minutes for each one. In context of other things I’m currently battling,
not the biggest issue ever, but seriously there has got to be some way to
streamline the process.
After paperwork mountain (I think it’s the antithesis of
cupcake mountain), some friendly nurse will take me into a tiny room. This part
usually makes me laugh since I haven’t been to a single appointment alone, and
whoever is with me (usually my mom or dad) comes rushing up and seems as though
they might tackle this poor nurse out of some fear that not walking fast enough
will have them allocated to the waiting room while the doctors do god only
knows to me. The nurse will take my vital signs, measure my height, my weight
and my blood pressure (5’7.5”, 152, and 102 over 66, give or take). After that,
the waiting game begins again, and another 20 minutes of my life gets devoted
to Plants vs. Zombies 2.
Every doctor I have had has been awesome, and has also given
me what seems like a lot of similar information. I’m going to give a quick
break down by doctor, and since I have no idea if I’m allowed to use their
names in a public forum, I’m going to just go by initials. If you want any more
details, let me know and I can tell you more. I can honestly say I would recommend
every one of my doctors to anyone in a similar situation to me. Anyway, here we
go!
Dr. D, my surgeon extraordinaire! As the brains of the whole
network, she is the one who referred me to my other doctors, set up
appointments, and will be the first one to administer any kind of treatment.
She was the first face I saw and it was honestly the best I could have hoped
for in the situation. Everyone I have talked to that has gone through this and
with Dr D has had nothing but good things to say about this woman. She was upfront
and laid out a clear course of action. Not knowing anything about what was
happening next it was really comforting have someone tell me, “You’re going to
be okay, here’s what were going to do.” The details of the pathway are still a
little hazy but she let me know what’s up.
Dr. T, my oncologist. She is a really nice lady, and she’s
the one who will be in charge of chemotherapy and hormone replacement therapy. She
is current and is up on the forefront of whatever information is coming out
about breast cancer.
Dr. L, my reconstructive surgeon. He’s got the swankiest
office and he wore a tie with dogs on it. If that’s not enough to sell you, he’s
considered one of the top reconstructive breast surgeons in the northwest and
after looking at his work I can see why. Even better, when talking with him
about silicone implants, he showed me how durable they were by throwing one at
a door. I like this guy.
Dr. W, my radiologist. He might be the smartest person I
have ever talked to in my life. This guy is sharp as a tack but has the ability
to explain things clearly. The fact that I might not need radiology actually
bummed me out because that would mean not getting to talk to Dr. W again.
There is also K.W. who is my patient navigator. She is
possibly the best thing the Salem Hospital has ever put together. K.W. is a
registered nurse whose sole job is to help patients make connections and
appointments with any doctor or professional a person with cancer might need. She’s
also a two time cancer survivor and is beyond helpful. I do not understand how
someone can get through this without having a patient navigator.
I’ve got a handful of other fine staff that are helping me
out but these are the main people guiding me on my terrifying journey. Everyone
is insanely supportive and I feel nothing but positive vibes about my upcoming
fight. These people seem to have breast cancer down to such an elementary
science, and speak with such confidence about everything going on; it leaves me
feeling secure about my diagnosis. Even though I haven’t had surgery or chemo
or anything yet, just the process of talking about it endlessly is a lot to
process. The whole thing is still very bewildering and unbelievably exhausting,
but at this point there are only two things about my current treatment that are
bothering me:
1. I still don’t have an absolute answer on what is
going to happen to me in the next few months. I know I’m still waiting on tests
to come back and I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I don’t have it 100% with dates
set on everything and the uncertainty is wracking my brain.
2.
Medical appointments are currently reacting like
a hydra: for every one you finish, 3 more spring forth from it. My appointment
with the surgeon finished with an appointment in oncology, radiology, and
plastic surgeon. My oncology one brought me two blood tests and an MRI. I
realize this stuff is all very important but I have never been so excited for a
full day of work in my life.
Once again, for those
too tired to read, here’s CANCER ABRIDGED (if you have a better name I’d love
to know it)
*Doctor appointments are numerous and lengthy.
*My doctors are really cool and smart people.
*I’m doing just fine thank you (really I’m only freaking out
about 10% of the time, pretty good if you ask me).
And I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has
taken the time to read this or share this blog. When Simon and Chunk (Hi,
friends!) told me they actually enjoyed reading it, I was touched and really
appreciated the heartfelt words of encouragement. I feel really lucky to have
such supportive family and friends. Even if I don’t get back to you right away,
please know how much your love and caring words help give me hope and keep my
spirits high during such difficult times.
Thank you all so much.
You write well, kiddo. Keep it up!
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