The Scan and the Plan

Waiting for my connection in the Atlanta airport last Friday, I checked my email and excitedly opened the message from Oklahoma Cancer Specialists and Research Institute (OCSRI). A link led me to my PET scan results. Put into everyday English, they said no spread of cancer. It is confined to my right breast.

“Yes!” I whispered and set about to give the good news via Facebook. What a wonderful way to start a Kentucky weekend with my brother Bob and his family!

 And a grand weekend it was. But this is a cancer blog, so let’s go on to the next thing: today’s appointment with my surgeon. She is kind, professional, and explained things very well. My mind is still spinning several hours later with new information and what it all will mean for the month of September and beyond.

I have an aggressive invasive cancer, likely triple negative again. It is smaller than two centimeters, which means surgery first and then chemotherapy. I won’t know anything about the chemotherapy regimen until well after the surgery.

To prepare for the September 4^th outpatient surgery, I have a lymphedema education appointment on August 27. (That is just in case I develop lymphedema someday due to the removal of one or more lymph nodes.) I should receive a phone call soon to set the pre-op appointment in which various tests are done.

What follows the mastectomy is not what I expected: weekly appointments for the first month. That is the easy part. The harder part will be being laid up for an entire month. Dr. Flynn summed up the activities to which I should limit myself for optimal healing: rest, eating, and personal hygiene. (But no showers.)

There go my plans to work from home. “Typing?” I asked. “That’s not one of the three,” she answered with a smile. Talk about disappointment! But as I’ve thought about it, I will need lots and lots of rest without the pressure of accomplishing anything. Who knows? By the end of September, I might have the mental energy to do some reading.

Still harder is the thought of not seeing my grandchildren for an entire month. They are young enough and rambunctious enough to make visits unwise. No singing “The Wheels on the Bus” and “Patty Cake” complete with motions for 15-year-old Benjamin, who has Down Syndrome and autism. No pretend play with 11-year-old Joelle and 6-year-old Ava. No big hugs that almost knock me over from 9-year-old Josiah, who has autism. And no dancing with 2 ½ year-old Elijah.  I guess we will visit over FaceTime.

And I’m not thrilled by the idea of limiting my blog updates to rest my right arm and chest muscles. Pray for me during the possible silences. As you can see, the reality of giving up my regular routines is hard to bear.

But I must dwell on the positives, which include meals from Hopestone, our local cancer nonprofit. And light housekeeping from another nonprofit, ElderCare. And rides to medical appointments with various friends and acquaintances. And, best of all, the constant company of the Holy Spirit to comfort and encourage me. I’m quite sure there is plenty to learn in long recoveries.