May 2012. More than a week went by and then the Delos clinic phoned and I went and picked up the results. Surrounded by pregnant women I queued at reception, they gave me the envelope, I stuffed it in my bag, I proceeded to forget about it. Didn't open it, didn't even tell my Span at home that I had received it. I wanted a good night's sleep, for heaven's sake, which I got.
I also knew I wouldn't understand most of the jargon, but I finally opened it - that morning or at lunchtime, I forget which. Hmm. Bad news, it wasn't benign. Then I couldn't make out if it was 25mm or 2.5cm. Yikes. My brain cleverly managed to blank out the fact that it was also highly aggressive. Too much to handle in one session. I would take that on board later.
And I very sensitively broke the news to my Span just as he was going out the door to work. I blurted "Oh, by the way darling, I've got a malignant tumour, have a nice day though. See you tonight"
Now the order of events might have gotten a little blurred. I think it goes something like this. I was having the ultrasound in the hospital and they wanted to look at the ganglion in my left armpit (not a nice word that in English, is it? Axila in Spanish, much nicer) - more of the poking around palaver. I had the results from the clinic in my hand stating I'd been previously poked and prodded there. So I saved myself from repeating at least one of the big 3, phew! Have to say all the nurses and technicians I came into contact with in the hospital while doing the 3 biggies, were delightful. God bless them all! It's their care and attention that transforms a terrifying experience into something you can deal with and even enjoy, yes enjoy, because of the human contact. And I love being cared for. Just don't let it involve needles.
Still sometime in May. Back in Dr Granada's office for his verdict. Same results from the clinic as from the hospital (reassuring, huh?!). Massive malignant tumour and a ganglion affected. Small little breast. Recommended treatment: the other C word we all dread to hear. Chemotherapy first, then once the tumour has shrunk, surgery. Your legs weaken, your lips wobble, your teeth chatter, your whole nervous system kind of melts down really. Oh for crying out loud, girl, get a grip!
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