After receiving the phone call that I had an appointment with Doctor A, I didn't sit and cry. I was fully aware that I was going to hear that I have cancer but I think I was numb. Things still didn't feel real to me. Other than chest pains, and a sometimes having a wheezing sound when I got out of breath or laughed, I felt perfectly fine. People with cancer are sickly, aren't they? Not being able to accept that is what kept me from being fully aware or actually accepting what I was going to hear.
My appointment with Doctor A was in an examine room, and since they are not the biggest, I couldn't take my full entourage with me. So off I went with mom and Karla. I can remember sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called in and noticing the people around me. I was being seen in the ambulatory clinic so not all the people there were cancer patients. But some were and they sat with no hair, or had turbans on. I remember one woman in a hat explaining to a man next to her about how fortunate she was that her hair loss was only on the top of her head, so she can wear hats and no one can tell the difference. And she was right. Her hair was about shoulder length and I wouldn't have had any idea. But then my thoughts went to what was under the hat and it horrified me. I pictured the same happening to me and having to look at myself with essentially what would be a skullet. Fortunately I did not have to wait long before being called in, so I didn't have a long time to dwell on that thought but that image was now imprinted in my brain.
Doctor A saw me in an examine room like any other one but we just sat in regular chairs. He wasn't examining me today, just reading results. We gathered in the room and he was very direct, to the point, and laid it all out for us. My official diagnosis was Stage 1, Mediastinal Diffuse Large B Cell, Non Hodgkin Lymphoma. He went on to explain that the treatment plan for me was to receive chemotherapy and that it would begin the following week. The skullet thought popped into my head again here and I asked him about my hair--would I lose it? He told me that some people hold on to their hair, while others see that it thins out, and some lose it completely. I wish I could say that I wasn't bothered by this, but I was. I began to cry at this point and I didn't hear much of anything else. I didn't realize I was a vain person until that day, but losing my hair at the age of twenty two devastated me. Hearing a doctor tell me that, is what made it finally sink in for me. Everything was becoming real and it happening quickly. While I sat and wept, Dr. A was explaining to mom that I would have to have a couple of scans and a bone marrow biopsy done before I could start chemo. He had all those booked and she was writing down times, where they would be and so on. A piece of advise for anyone going to an appointment such as this---take someone with you. I was absorbing nothing being said at this point. If it wasn't for my mom, I don't think I would of made those appointments. I do remember him saying that the type of chemo I would be receiving (there is more than one kind?!) was a kind that doesn't affect fertility and that I would be able to have children later in life. That should of been a bright side of all he was saying but in my state of mind in that moment, talking about having children was irrelevant. I was being told that I had cancer. Having kids was the furthest thing from my mind. I zoned out again, but I am sure everything he was saying was very important but I just wasn't hearing much of it. *The movie 50/50 does an excellent job of portraying this kind of appointment. You hear that the people are talking, but the shock/numbness you are experiencing doesn't allow you absorb anything being said. Great movie, check it out*. I do remember hearing that the form of lymphoma I had was one that was unlikely to reoccur once it was gone. Again, another good point. But I was thinking that doesn't help me now. Right now I have it and I couldn't see past that. I can't say how long we were in that room. Most of it was a blur and I was weeping throughout it. When the three of us got up to leave, Dr A touched me on the arm and made eye contact with me. All he said was "Karen, we are going to beat this". I just nodded my head but I can't say I believed him.
The three of us left the hospital, still crying, and returned to mine and Karla's apartment. Over and over in my head, I was thinking, I have cancer. I had so many different emotions flooding through me. I just wanted to run from it all, but obviously I couldn't. I went into my bedroom, closed the door and let myself have a good cry. None of this quiet, weeping bullshit I had done during the appointment. I put my face in a pillow and screamed out my frustration. I was 22 years old. Why the fuck did I have cancer? I've always had an active lifestyle and I didn't smoke. How the hell had this happen? I felt an overwhelming sense of unfairness. I didn't want to die. This couldn't be how my life was written out. I wasn't finished University yet. I wasn't married. I hadn't gotten to do so many things I wanted to do. I sat and cried. My thoughts then went to my family, to Lee, to my friends. How terrified they were for me. How seeing me upset would cause them to also be upset. That's when I decided I wouldn't spend my time sat in my room, crying and upset. I didn't want to see everyone else upset so I was going to do my best to also not be. I left my room and went out to Karla and mom and said to them "No one better make a fucking Facebook group about me and cancer". I think that's the first time we laughed in days. But although funny, I was serious. I wasn't going to be hiding the fact I had cancer, but I also didn't want to be the talk of everyone. I wasn't ready to have it all on display, and that stayed true as here it is, 8 years later, and I am just now able to open up in this way. I think that crying session and having time with my own thoughts was the turn in my "I can't believe this" way of thinking. I had a diagnosis, a treatment plan, and it was underway. I knew no one deserved to have to go through anything like this, but people do. I was starting to accept what was happening.
Myself, Lee and Mom were hoping to leave for Bishop's Falls that day after my appointment as it was Thanksgiving weekend and we were going home for it. But I had to have another (I should of kept count over the years) cat scan done the next morning. From being so tuned out at my appointment, I didn't even know why I was having another one. So we postponed until the next day.
That morning I went back to the hospital, drank my cups of contrast that I was becoming accustomed to, had my CT, and we hit the road. It was Friday, and I was able to go home for the holiday. Since Monday was the holiday, I didn't have to be back at the hospital until Tuesday when I would be having a gallium scan (wtf is that?), and Wednesday I would have my bone marrow biopsy done. The two of those needed to be completed so that I could start chemo on that Friday. So we went home to have our last "normal" holiday.
We got home and I was greeted by my friend Amy who had the most Amy-like card made up.
Obviously I still have this. It was too good not to keep. But on that day, this is exactly what I needed. Thank-you Amy. Humor was my new way of dealing with cancer. I was not going to let it take away my laughter, my spirit, or my laid back way of life.
I went to bring Lee home and had to also had to stop in a convenience for milk. Why does that stand out in my mind? Well my hometown is a relatively small place. And even though I was 4 hours away, going through all this, the majority of the town knew what I was going through. I think this aided in me being so private about it all. I didn't want to be the talk of the town. But once I entered that store that day, I knew that I was. I walked in and there were a few people in the store. When they saw who had come in, it went completely silent. I didn't overly know these people, but I knew they knew who I was. It was the most awkward experience of my life. It lead me to believe that I might of even been the topic of conversation before going in there. So I just went to the cooler, got the milk, paid, and left. No one spoke to me, and I didn't speak to them. I later learned that I was the talk of a lot of people, and friends and family were being asked questions about me. Most times those questions also included things like "well I heard they can't do anything for her" or "I heard the surgery (?) didn't go well", so all kind of things were being twisted about what was going on. No wonder the people in that store looked at me the way they did...they had me one foot in the grave. This is my love/hate relationship with small towns.
After such a bizarre experience, I brought Lee to his house. In that car I told him how scared I was and wish it wasn't happening. In previous days I had told Lee that I would hold no grudge against him if he wanted to leave. I didn't want him to go through this, and if something were to happen to me it would be too hard on him. He had told me the only way he was leaving me was if I broke up with him, and that wouldn't stop him because he would just be by every day anyways. Well that night, in fewer words, he reinforced that he was in it for the long haul. He told me that I had to promise him that when WE beat this, that I would never do it to him again. I don't think he could ever know what those words meant to me. I had so many uncertainties facing me. But one thing I did know, from those few words, I was sure I would marry him one day.
My world was changing at a very fast pace and I had zero control over any of it. But the first step in getting better, is accepting what you are faced with. I was ready to take this on. I was still scared shitless, but I was ready to go. One last weekend home with family and friends. Tuesday, it was go time.
-K
Thank you again for reading my blog! It continues to help me and I hope you all are enjoying reading my story. Thank you again and feel free to share!
