Part 2: Like my then 8-year-old said "Never stand on a swively chair"

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8.11.22

So she's not 8-years-old anymore. She's still shrewd, acerbic, quick-witted and brilliant. I like her very much.

Next to her, please find attached, her sisters Ginger Grant, and Sister. One of those is a beautiful, loyal, caring, funny, kind, devoted, hard-working ED nurse who lights up any room she's in. The other is a dog. I love these girls more than I could ever, ever tell them, but I'll keep trying.

Previously, we were WAITING. Now, we're not.

Now I'm just about perched on the arm of my old pal, the swivley chair and on July 28th, I hop right up to full standing. I do not like the view.

It's the Thursday, post Biopsy Monday. We could call it Maundy Thursday except it's not Easter and I am not washing any old dudes' feet, so let's stick to Thursday, nkay?

<insert eyeroll>

I check MyChart. I check and recheck MyChart. I like MyChart. Everything is accessible, whether the hell you want it to be or not. I can see pathology, scans, bloodwork...

Do I, a chronic malingerer, know what any of those reports mean? No.

Do I look anyway? Not no.

What I did read, sitting in my office alone, was

• AXILLA LEFT, INVASIVE CARCINOMA INVOLVING FIBROADIPOSE TISSUE, 1.1 CM IN EXTENT

• BREAST, LEFT, 8 O'CLOCK, INVASIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA, MODERATELY DIFFERENTIATED

• BREAST, LEFT, 9 O'CLOCK, INVASIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA, MODERATELY DIFFERENTIATED

There was other shit, but after that, who cares? Did I mention I was at work? Yeah, not ideal. I was pretty much out of it for the rest of the day (month).

Wait, wait, wait! This part was fun. Watch me as I try to get medical people to tell me WTAF is going on, and what it all means. I guess it wasn't just that first US/Mamo lady. My MD's office couldn't call me back. When they did (both doctors, days later) they said they hadn't received the biopsy results (not true) and that I should call Smilow. Yeah, thanks a frigging LOT.

It took over 48-hours for me to get someone to call in orders to set up oncology and surgeon visits. As soon as someone did, the Yale people were all over it. Sherri set everything up. To this day, neither of my Primary Care Doctors has called me to discuss the results of my biopsies. I've since learned, that is what's known as "not giving two dog shits", speaking in the vernacular.

And, we're back.

Monday, August 1, my mom and I along with Sister 2 (not like, Back in the Habit. I refer to the former 8-year-old mentioned above) head to Yale to meet with the medical oncologist, Dr. Silber. My mom had Dr. Silber as her oncologist 7 years ago when she had her own swively chair episode. Happy, THRILLED, actually, to say she (my mom), after a lumpectomy and radiation has been cancer free for many years!!!

That was some scary shit.

Alas, Covid. Only one person is allowed to accompany me. Sister2 kicked her grandmother out onto a New Haven street corner in a blink. My poor mom sat on a bench like a hobo while S2 and I got massages and piña coladas.

I kid!

My mom did sit on a New Haven bench, but we shared our piña coladas with her.

Eventually.

Dr. Silber said a lot of things. I am truly grateful S2 was there to hear it, because I wasn't.

Dr. S assumed my own docs had explained things to me. When I said they had not, she kindly did.

She talked about HER2, genetics, and scans. Her fantastic team set up bone, chest, and abdomen, scans for me. Dr. S said I'd for sure need radiation since the cancer was in my lymph nodes, but she expected that to be the extent of the spread. We won't know that till the scans are back.

What I understand is that if the cancer has spread, surgery will have to wait until chemo kills the space invaders like my husband at Spanky's Arcade in 1981.

Scans are set for August 24th at Hospital of St. Raphael. It's also a Thursday. I'm still not washing any feet.

AND WE'RE WAITING...