The appointments keep coming, and I’m doing my best to keep up. I recently met with the surgeon, who spoke quickly but was thorough in explaining my type of cancer. She laid out the picture of what treatment and surgery will look like for me. Like others before her, she emphasized that chemotherapy is a necessary part of my treatment. It seems like that message is becoming a consistent theme.
Later in the week, I received my ECHO results, and with them, another potential issue. I was told that I have Noncompaction Syndrome, a rare congenital condition where the left ventricle of the heart didn’t fully develop. I’ve never had symptoms that align with this condition, so the news caught me off guard. Now, I’m facing yet another specialist—this time, a cardiologist. I’m really craving some good news right now.
My last appointment was for a Breast MRI. Again, I don’t know all the medical jargon, but from what I read, there are no masses in the left breast, and the entire mass in the right breast seems to be about 6cm in size. I haven’t spoken with a doctor about these results yet, so I’m left wondering what they mean.
There are more appointments on the horizon, and still no definite timeframe for when treatments will start. I’m not in a rush to start treatments, but I am so ready to begin the healing.
September 5: Uncovered Parking and Uncovered Emotions
Today was a significant day in my journey. As I drove to Mayo, I found myself wondering what this appointment with Dr. Rao, my oncologist, would bring. Instead of opting for the $5 a day garage, I parked in the open lot. Of course, it turned out to be the wrong day for uncovered parking—the rain started as soon as I stepped out of the car. I had a small umbrella, just big enough to cover my head, but by the time I made it inside, the front of my pants was soaked. Not the best start, but I brushed it off.
Despite the rain, I was excited about this appointment. Something about meeting with Dr. Rao made me feel like I’d finally get the plan I’ve been waiting for. Once I was called back, my vitals were checked, and unsurprisingly, my blood pressure was elevated—160/110. I’ve got to work on that.
I decided to record my conversation with Dr. Rao today. These appointments are often fast-paced, and I don’t always catch everything. Being able to go back and review later is a lifesaver. Dr. Rao came in with a resident, Dr. McKinley, and just like the rest of the team, they were thorough and patient. The treatment plan? Five months of chemo. It was a lot to take in, but somehow, I felt good about the appointment when it was over. There was finally a plan. And then, something that might be funny—if there even is a funny side to breast cancer—happened. Dr. Rao wanted to do an exam, so they stepped out of the room to get the nurse while I undressed. All I could think was, “More tittie touching for me! Everyone wants to touch the boob!” They returned, and Dr. Rao began the exam. Then Dr. McKinley asked if he could feel it too. I almost wanted to burst out with, “Yes, of course, and make sure you pour me a drink after you run the train on me.” It’s these little absurd moments that remind me to laugh, even when it’s hard.
That good feeling didn’t last long, though. The very next day, I was hit with a wave of new emotions. I opened my patient portal and was flooded with a list of weekly appointments. My treatment starts on the 12th, and while I knew the chemo would be weekly, I hadn’t realized that many of those weeks would involve two days in a row—one day for bloodwork, and the next for treatment. Knowing the exact start date of it all just made everything feel more real, and with that came a whole new set of emotions.
I also had a video call with Nurse Yan, who went over the safety protocols for chemo—nausea, diarrhea, constipation. Not exactly fun topics, but necessary. It’s starting to feel like I’m truly on the verge of the battle ahead.
