Last night the Daughter and I watched the news report about Angelina Jolie having a preventative double mastectomy.
It led to a very adult conversation with my Beautiful Girl about cancer and breast removal and the effects that all of it can have on your family (not that I’m any expert on the subject). The whole time we were talking, I so desperately wanted to tell her what was happening to me, but I didn’t… I didn’t want to frighten her…
Today was the Wednesday (15/5/2013) Dr M. appointment – the first appointment.
I wasn’t expecting answers – in fact I was pretty sure that my GP was going to schedule me a mammogram and an ultrasound. I wasn’t disappointed. Two more days to wait and apparently I may also be subjected to a needle aspiration – where they’ll stick a very thin needle in to my right breast and remove a sample of the lump. Oh, yay….
Outwardly I’m being surprisingly calm about this all.
It’s the Husband who’s not coping all that well. For me, the nuts and bolts of the current situation is where I find myself and no amount of wishing time would stop in its tracks or rewind will change things.
Currently I haven’t spoken to anyone other than the Hubs about what is happening. We’re not telling the kids because I don’t want to alarm them. Until I know more myself, and then I’ll be able to answer questions. And I may not tell them at all. Because it’s
not the sort of thing that kids need hear.
The reality of it is that until I have these tests done, there are no answers. No one can tell me what the hell is happening. All my GP could say was “I’m very concerned due to the size of the mass.” More of the hurry up and wait.
Today’s realisation though, as I was listening to talk-back radio about older mothers, was that I am not unique in this. On any particular day – worldwide – there are many other women who are currently experiencing (almost) exactly what I am.
Because each of us will be bringing our own unique set of circumstances to the table. Our own way of dealing with what is happening to us. Our own defense mechanisms and support networks.
For me, it is having a Husband who is holding my hand, telling me he loves me and saying that he will be by my side on the day where I get some answers.
It is having a GP who cares enough to go in to work on her day off, to check my results and call me to have a chat.
It’s knowing that I have friends who I can count on, no matter how crazy my life gets if and/or when I lose it.
And why am I writing this?
To give a voice to that mind-altering uncertainty – to get it out of my head, because otherwise it will drive me to distraction. And to, just, maybe, let someone who is going through what I am know that they are not alone. That we will get answers. And whatever they answers are, that we will be able to deal with them.