There's No Good Time to Get the Call

Pardon my French, but the week of January 17 - January 24 was the longest fucking week of my life.

Having been told I would get results within days, I steeled myself for the worst and could barely eat or sleep. "You'll know by Friday," I told myself.

"You'll know by Saturday," I thought.

"There's no way they'll keep me waiting this long," I thought Monday morning.

By Monday night, I was beside myself. At this point, I had also convinced myself that since I hadn't heard anything, well - it's sitting in the No Big Deal pile, while they tackle the So Sorry pile.

Delusion is great.

Having heard nothing and a couple of vacation days to use up, I packed my bags for the snowy landscape of Detroit for the 2019 US Figure Skating Championships. I had several volunteer shifts planned, including ice monitor for the pairs championship short program. Free jackets and swag! Fun with friends! It was going to be a great weekend!

Eager to make it to Detroit, I resisted the temptation to stop by the Coach outlet. And then, I got the call at about 11:30, outside of Brighton.

Dr Beall: "So hey, how's it going?"

Me: "Well, you tell me."

Pause.

"I have the test results back... and it looks like cancer."

I wish I could say I was shocked, but with a history of cancer in my family, I was not. I just thought this was possibly the worst place to find out, eastbound 96. Then I thought there was no good place to find out either.

"Shit."

I wish I could tell you more about the conversation. I empathized with her for having to make THAT call. A former figure skater, she was planning on attending the championships too, and maybe we would run into each other. I thanked her for her thankless task. I had my own phone calls to make.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part...

After I'm set up for the biopsy, now comes the harsh reality of how to pay for it. I don't have great insurance, but thank God for some sort of protection. I can't imagine facing this diagnosis and having no coverage. It seems cruel on top of it all.

Anyway, as comfortable as we are, payment requires some shuffling of funds, and is not what I want to think about while being told "this is something, or this is nothing." Felt like an expensive Saturday Night Live skit.

Also, it was coming time to inform Will something was going on. I was headed to the hospital a little more than usual, and of course the day of my biopsy, there's a snow day. We can't avoid telling him what's up.

He takes it with a grain of salt, just happy he's going to be able to play Minecraft on his phone.

I check in, and hand over the wad of cash. I get called back for the now typical locker room-gown check in. Butterflies are flying, and as I'm changing, nurse comes in and says "wait! We have to check something! Is it just a freckle?"

A freckle? Of course! This is nothing!

Oh, never mind. False alarm.

I'm taken into the area where they will be doing the biopsy, and I have to get on the bed and allow my left breast to hang through a hole in the table. When asked if I'm flexible enough to do it comfortably, I reply in irritation, "I'm a figure skater, I can do this!"

The way I was positioned in the room, I was facing away from everyone. At one point, I felt completely disconnected from everything that was happening. At one point, a Queen song was going through my head, and I remember thinking "stop, because if this is bad news, it will ruin this song forever and I don't want that." And for the life of me, I can't remember what the song was.

They remove the sample, and ushered into another room for ANOTHER mammogram. It's noted they dropped a clip, and whatever IT is, they removed most of IT in the biopsy, so I guess I should be relieved.

I asked what was next, and was told I should have results in 48-72 hours. This is on a Wednesday afternoon, so this could mean I know by Friday or Monday.

And so I wait...

The Infamous Sneeze

I report to mammogram part deux on January 3 at the hospital. At this point, I'm thinking we are just redoing the left breast because of the sneeze during the film from a week ago.

I'm given a locker key, my choice of front tie kimono, and shown the lounge where Nancy Kerrigan is on HGTV with her son to revamp flea market finds, some sort of game show where she is pitted against another Olympic medalist and her mom.

They are refurbishing when I'm ushered to another room.

I'm taken in the room with all the cool high tech equipment, and the tech is working efficiently to get me ready for imaging. I chuckle over the sneeze, and she says to me in all seriousness, "it wasn't the sneeze."

Oh.

The usual squashing happens, and I'm ushered back to the lounge, where Nancy and company are now selling their refurbished things as an antique market.

The doctor will see you now.

I never see who wins the challenge.

I'm taken back into the room with the machines and technicians and I hear the word "cancer" uttered for the first time. Complete and utter shock, I am struck numb.

Slight backpedaling, I'm told it could be nothing, and in most cases it is nothing, but we have to be sure, what I have looks suspicious and they have to rule it out. They're not in any hurry either, did I want to wait until the cool, new equipment comes in?

Tears rolling down my face that is still in stun mode, I nod.

The next thing on the agenda is a biopsy in two weeks. I'm given a pamphlet and time to pull myself together. I walk out to my car and sit there, staring across the lot at the strip mall across the street, with the realization that everything has changed.

Is this something, is this nothing?

We will find out in two weeks, I guess.

It's Been a While...

So I have been engrossed in the everyday life of work, being a mom and wife, and an active figure skating judge, and not keeping up with the blog the way I wanted. Hitting the gym, getting my sessions in at the rink, and watching my health.

Then came my annual mammogram.

I scheduled it for my Christmas break, so it would be an easy in and out at the local clinic, and I would have an excuse to be lazy and eat leftover cookies because my boobs hurt from being in a vise.

I get a call the regular tech was sick, and she had the keys to the mobile unit, so I could reschedule for another day or I could go to another clinic. Since I had nothing else to do, I opted for the same day reschedule.

Everything is pretty routine, until lefty is in the vise. I say to the tech, "Immma gonnnnna sneeeeze!"

"Please don't!" she implored.

I stare at the ceiling, I try the press your upper lip trick, while holding my breath because I'm not supposed to move.

I sneeze as she snaps the film. So I have to get it taken again.

I don't think anything of this, I'm actually a bit smug leaving the clinic, applauding myself for making sure to take care of my health.

Two hours later, everything changes.

The clinic calls, and with a professional singsong voice, I'm told they're not sure, they think they found something, but need me to come back in for another mammogram to be sure. They are so no big deal about it, that I almost dismiss it.

Almost.

So I live with a nagging fear leading into new year's.

Could it be cancer?

And thus a new chapter begins.