Getting 'The Call' - Part II

So I'll take the story up where I left off - the biopsy had been performed, everything went as expected. Now it was a waiting game and I had the long, Martin Luther King weekend to contend with. As much as I tried to put a good face on for my girls - who are 9 and 11 - it was pretty obvious I was under a lot of duress. I had a very sore boob, I was having a hard time shaking the anesthesia off, and I knew there was a possibility, even though I was told it was fairly remote, that I had cancer.

My husband and I had a meeting to discuss the results of the biopsy with the surgeon on Wednesday but the results were expected as soon as Monday. Of course, I called the office several times on Monday looking for answers but the final diagnostic report had not been filed. That same night, the phone rang and it was the surgeon. He was calling to prepare me with some unexpected preliminary (this word is key) news. They had found some cancer. Although it was very early, I may need more surgery and radiation.

Nothing in my life hit me as hard as that conversation did. I wish I could say I was strong but I wasn't. I went into the bathroom (to spare my girls) and fell to the floor, phone still in my hand. My husband followed me in, held my free hand and rubbed my back. He didn't need to hear the other side of the conversation.

My neighbor, who is a dear friend of mine, happened to be over the house and whisked my girls away. This was just the first of a multitude of compassionate acts from friends and family that would follow throughout the next 48 hours. A two day period that would change my life and, as cliche as this may sound, restore my faith in people's goodness.

Most of that period is already a blur - but I remember the phone calls, the meals (I think 3 arrived in those 2 days), the offers to drive my girls to activities, even make their lunches. Flowers began arriving, emails began arriving, friends began arriving. Two friends who have been through bouts with cancer just made themselves available to listen. I could never thank them enough for that.

I learned that when someone is going through something - an illness, a death in the family - it doesn't matter what you do or say, as long as you do or say something. I will be a better friend because of that lesson.

So Wednesday morning finally arrived...and as I phoned some remaining friends, I found it was the first time I could actually say the word 'cancer' aloud. Maybe that meant it was real. I also started thinking about things I had never considered before - would people see me differently? I didn't want to be defined by the diagnosis and I certainly didn't want to be pitied. Things that other cancer survivors have certainly felt and dealt with but that you can't fully understand until you are standing in those shoes.

At 10 am the phone rang again...it was the surgeon. I almost didn't answer, I suspected he was calling with more bad news. Could I handle another blow? I had to face it, whatever it was...so reluctantly I answered the phone. Thank God I answered that phone.

Check back for Part III - 'Elated Confusion'...And if you're due for a mammogram - schedule it TODAY. That's why I'm sharing my story!