I was happy about getting back to work. The people I work
for, and with are great and they always bring a smile to my face. I truly have fun at work and love being there. The
distraction was quite welcome.
Thursday at work, I got a phone call from the surgeon’s
office. Apparently they had been calling my fax machine at home instead of my
cell phone to get a hold of me to tell me when my appointment with my oncologist
was…turns out it was supposed to be Thursday morning. Friday at the end of the
day I got a voice mail saying they got it rescheduled to this Wednesday and said
they would call Monday with more information. Of course I didn’t hear from them
today, so will be making a call in the morning to find out what is up with that
(I have a doctor’s name but no address!)
On Saturday, I went to a special house concert at a friend’s home.
I was surprised when I was gifted a beautiful quartz necklace handmade for me
(thank you Lisa!). The music was
spiritual and uplifting and made me feel better about things that had been
going on. I was a bit down, not only because of the cancer but because a dear friend
had come into town and I hadn’t been able to see him yet. Things were tense and I needed a night out to
relax, wind down and recharge.
On Sunday, I was supposed to see said friend, but
unfortunately it was out of my control, and our meeting didn’t happen. It was downright crushing to have something I had looked forward to for so long, and that meant so much to me, pulled right out from under me. I particularly wanted to see him before my surgery, because hey - you never know. Being
reminded about things being out of my control isn’t easy for me to deal with,
particularly at this point in my life where I am reminded that so much is
really out of my control anyway.
This week was also a week of observing the reactions of
others. The vast majority of people tend to react to the news “I have cancer”
in one of two ways. There are those who first look shocked and then say something
to the effect of “You’re strong, you can beat this.” Which, depending on the day can be a good
thing, but if it’s a day when I’m not feeling particularly strong, it really
doesn’t help much, instead it reminds me that I’m feeling a bit on the weak
side.
The other group gets what I call, “that face”. “That face”
is a silent way of saying, “Oh hell you’re screwed”. It’s a look of pity. Not understanding. Not
empathy. Pity. (There are those who can and do show a look of understanding or
empathy, but these fall into a smaller category.)
So far all the doctors, nurses and other medical personnel I
have spoken with have pretty much told me the same thing. Breast cancer,
particularly when it is found this early, very seldom kills people anymore. Well
that’s good news, but it often doesn’t seem like that is what other people are
thinking. “That look” brings to mind the “bring out your dead” scene from Monty
Python and the Holy Grail. I’m not dead yet! Please, don’t look at me like I
am. I have cancer, yes. Sometimes it hits me hard and I think, well hell, this
really could kill me. It sure has taken its fair share of my family members
already. I don’t want to be another one. But when you give me that look, it’s
like you have already tossed me on the fire.
Yes, I do plan to be cremated someday, but that day is not
today.
Tomorrow, I’m busy as well.
