Free In Idaho!

In the course of my reading the past couple of days I’ve hit on more than a couple posts that have an element of “waiting, for big events” about them.  Here is one from the Dutchman.  Here is one from Rodger.  I could give you more links, but I think you understand.  There is something wrong in the country today, a cancer, if you will.  How bad is it?  We don’t really know yet, but we know it’s there.  The greater picture is of a very hard road ahead, with a destination unknown, no way to go back where it seemed “safe”, and no way of knowing what isn’t seen yet.  Definitely not a road for cowards, but we may not get a choice.

The reason I’m thinking of these things this morning is because of a personally hard road ahead for my Sweetie.  At the beginning of the month she discovered “a lump”, and over the course of the past 4 weeks we’ve come to where we are this morning.  In a couple of hours I’ll go pick her up and we’ll go see the surgeon.  He’ll tell us what the true facts are, and give us a glimpse of the road ahead.

Waiting has been difficult.  We tend to be of the sort that does better with a list, or a map, or at least a visible path stretching out ahead.  So far, we’ve had none.  Details are not forthcoming, so far… “the surgeon will explain it all to you on Monday Wednesday” is not reassurring.  Note to the medical profession: telling a woman she has breast cancer, then telling her the surgeon will tell her all she needs to know next week is a very difficult thing.  Finishing that news by saying “we’re so VERY sorry” doesn’t reassure your patient that she has a “routine lumpectomy” ahead.  I doubt my wife is different from other human beings in reading the worst into that last line.

Daytimes have been alright.  Since finding out last Friday that she has cancer my wife has been working.  One of the munchkins flew into town for 3 days, and that was a blessing.  I have worked, and taken care of chores around the house, and even spent a day shooting.  It hasn’t been hard to keep our minds occupied during the day, although we know each other so well we both can tell we’re just going through the motions right now.  But night time is the worst.  The unknown is very fearsome, especially at night, and the dark hours drag.  I do not know how unbelievers get through times like this.

This has been a hurry up and wait kind of process.  Putting on the game face and bulling ahead has been the strategy.  Lump?  OK, make another appointment, get the screening done.  Wait for appointment.   Positive pictures?  Ok, make another appointment, get the biopsy done.  Wait for results.  Positive results?  Ok, make some more appointments.  Wait.  And then Monday, expecting the surgeon appointment, we woke up, got the game face on, got ready to go and then received a call saying the files didn’t get from one office to the surgeon office in time.  Cancel and reschedule for Wednesday.  New lessons in anger and fear management for two days, waiting for today.

We’ve had all the conversations, about what if this and what if that. 

 ”What if it isn’t simple?”

 ”What if I lose my breasts?”

 ”What if I have to have chemo and lose my hair and get sick?”

 ”What if I lose my job?  What’ll we do?”

 ”What if I die?”

 ”We’ve had a really full life.  I’ve been so happy to be married to you.”

Those are all things she has said to me.  Yeah.  We’ve done all of those, and more.  And there are no good answers, only more questions.  There are so many possible outcomes to this, our minds boggle, and we can find no comfort from any of the stories friends and strangers try to share with us. 

It is a hard road.  And in a couple hours we’ll get a glimpse at another part of it.  And then we’ll wait some more…

UPDATE: A little light is so much better than none at all.  Surgeon was nice, and quite positive.  He was also very reassuring, which we both needed.  You can imagine the state we had gotten ourselves into by the time we finally saw him.  Apparantly that is pretty normal because it was almost like he was expecting it.   And now we know what we can expect.  Surgery at the end of the month… lumpectomy and remove a (or more) lymph nodes, followed by radiation treatment five days a week for about 6 weeks, and then hormone treatment for a few years.  He doesn’t expect her to need chemo.  Very unlikely she will lose her breast.  Breast cancer probably won’t be what she dies from, and there is a high likelihood she will get old. 

We’re back to waiting again.  This time we have a better idea what we’ll be waiting for.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 8th, 2009 at 11:12 am and is filed under Hard Roads. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.