Getting the MRI results

I had planned a get-away to Port Townsend for the weekend prior to my surgery. I just wanted to get away from home and the temptation to sit around the house worrying (in retrospect, it worked and was a great idea). My husband, daughter, and I had planned to leave for Port Townsend on Friday, August 1st. However, I hadn't received any news whatsoever about the results of my MRI and I was getting pretty anxious about it. I really didn't want to go off for the weekend without knowing anything--good news or bad news.

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The breast MRI

My surgeon referred me for a breast MRI a week before surgery in order to detect any miniscule lesions (in either breast) that didn't show up on the mammogram or ultrasound and to ascertain the extent of the lesion already found. I really wasn't worried about the procedure, as I'd had a CAT scan before, so figured it would be similar. I read about the MRI on the Internet and learned that I would have to have an IV inserted because a contrast agent is used during the procedure. This was the only part that gave me pause, as I'd had to endure SIX POKES at the medical lab just to get a routine blood panel. Did I mention that they had to poke me SIX TIMES to get blood out of my veins? Sheesh!

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Lord, have mercy

One of the most frequent prayers of the Orthodox Christian is, "Lord, have mercy." The first time I visited an Orthodox church (while still a Protestant Christian), I heard it said over and over again during the liturgy and thought, "Talk about overkill. How many times do you have to ask God to take pity on you and forgive you?" But I didn't understand the prayer from the Eastern Orthodox perspective. Now that I'm Orthodox, I pray this prayer more than any other. For myself, for my loved ones, and for the world. It's a prayer that covers everything. Let me explain. The book "Orthodox Worship" describes the meaning of the word mercy as follows:

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The surgeon's call

On Thursday, July 17th, the doctor who would be performing my surgery called. I remember the day well because, up to that point, I was adrift in a sea of anxiety. With no definite plan of action, I felt overwhelmed with fear of the unknown.

I was relieved to hear a sympathetic, caring, and confident person on the other end of the phone line. He assured me that he had looked at my biopsy reports and that this cancer could be cured. He told me that 10 years from now, I could be another cancer survivor helping out in fundraisers for other people. I remember telling him, "That's the goal."

My appointment for surgical consultation was made for the following Tuesday. Already, I was beginning to feel some relief, just to know that I was on the road to getting the tumor out.

Trauma at the Medical Center

Even though I'd already received the diagnosis of breast cancer from my nurse practitioner, I still had an appointment with my Group Health doctor at the medical center the following day. She would be the doctor who would refer me for surgery and follow-up treatment. The doctor didn't spend much time explaining my biopsy report or anything else, since she could see that I'd already been given that information. She told me that I could expect--worst-case scenario--to be "profoundly fatigued" for the next year. Yippee, just what I wanted to hear to motivate myself to go through the next year. :~) I will give her credit for getting me in to see a surgeon right away. Many of the best surgeons in the county were out on summer vacation or booked up. She apparently pulled some strings and got me in to one of the best surgeons the following week for a consultation.

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The diagnosis

July 15th, 2008 was my husband's 49th birthday. It was also the day that my Group Health doctor had made an appointment to give me the results of my breast biopsy. Instead, her office staff called me the day before to tell me that my doctor was OUT on July 15th and that she would see me on July 16th. To say that I was freaking out a little is an understatement. I had valiantly (or so I thought) endured living through a FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY, MONDAY, and TUESDAY trying to distract myself and keep from going insane while wondering if I actually had breast cancer. Asking me to wait ONE MORE DAY seemed to be the cruelest of ironies. There was nothing I could do, however. The doctor was OUT.

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Waiting for results . . . torture!

This seems like an appropriate spot to talk about what happens AFTER you've had a breast biopsy. You've been told that you may, in fact, have the dread disease of cancer. Your entire life may be (and really is) altered from this day forward. You have no idea what kind of tumor you have, whether it's aggressive, malicious, slow-growing, or what. Then you are sent home with a pink flower to WAIT for the biopsy results. Surely this life circumstance has to rate at the top of the list of torturous experiences for human beings. My Group Health doctor called to say that she would meet with me when the biopsy results came in and let me know the details. She set up an appointment for five days after the biopsy. I didn't know how I would fare mentally for those five days. What I ended up doing was to replay the entrance into her office over and over and over again in my mind, each time imagining good news and bad news and my reaction to each.

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