I didn't expect the doctor to drop the C bomb when she called on Monday. The week before she said it was probably a cyst. Biopsy? Okay, sure. Go ahead. I've always done well by the girls. They won't turn on me. (Jerks. Didn't I buy you padded bras with frilly fronts? It wasn't always Jockey For Women, ya know.) And, sure, I thought maybe cancer would be one result, but I didn't expect to actually hear it come out of the doctor's mouth.
Friends, always expect them to say the word "cancer."
It's breast cancer ("invasive ductal"), which I guess is good in some ways because all those walk-a-thons have paid for some innovations in research and things are better now than when my aunt died 15 years ago. I mean, sure, cancer isn't good overall, ask anyone, but I don't feel dread yet. Maybe I want to be hopeful because positive is good. Maybe I'm just in denial over what it's going to cost me because I know that's going to suck.
But I haven't called everyone I want to call. I have had two vodkas and some ice cream.
I wanted to tell you all personally. You know who you are. I still want to tell you, but it's kind of stupid and lame and I have no idea how to explain it in person anymore. I've run out phone chat ideas. It's not like you can say "Oh, I was on safari and those mosquitos carry this thing apparently, and when the plane landed at Heathrow I felt the first fevers..." How the hell do you "catch" breast cancer? I blame Taco Bell. So, maybe this post is in part explaining it to myself as much as to everyone else, because I still think they'll call today and tell me that they read the wrong chart. Maybe tomorrow when I go in to discuss the big knife it will be a little more real. Maybe not. Maybe I just need more ice cream.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
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8 comments:
Goodness. How awful. Hang in there, lady. I'll be thinking about you.
You know we are all here fo you, always!! No matter what or when you need us, we are there!
Have you seen that book/DVD "Crazy, Sexy Cancer"? Should we co-author a book called "Ordinary, Dumpy Cancer"? I think it would be a hit and we can pay some bills with our royalties.
Oh My God. I'm on it. We can have helpful hints like "Turning your sweatpants inside out means you can wear them for another day!" or "The Yoga-Pant Head Warmer"
Karen, just wanted to let you know how sorry I was to hear the news that you also have to face this awful disease like Kelly. I am here for you as well and am praying for you. - Erin
Bummer. I am sending you well wishes.
If you care to post your address on the interwebs, Ill send you some sweet motivational posters as well.
I never trusted that boob anyway. Har har?
Love the book idea. As you write, you should think ahead to the movie. I see a Bollywood-style number involving sweats-clad dancers.
Reverend I have fear about outing my real identity (crime would escalate). Email me at mauricequetindelatour@yahoo.com. Hey, Hil, I like your thinking. I wonder if Amitabh Bachchan would play my dad.
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