What I didn't expect
July 14, 2009 at 19:01 When I signed into the doctor's office, I learned my doctor had been delayed at the hospital and wouldn't be arriving for 30 minutes or more. The receptionist checked the schedule and arranged for me to have my mammogram before my appointment rather than after so that I would not be sitting around forever.
The mammogram was painful, more painful than it has ever been before. Painful enough that at one point I almost told the technician I just could not stand the compression, but instead I bit my lip, scrunched my eyes shut, and had absolutely no trouble holding my breath while she pressed the button and took the film.
Then it was back out into the waiting room. Just as I was getting engrossed in a magazine, a nurse took me into the examining room where I was weighed (*sigh*), answered questions, and had my blood pressure taken.
Later, after the nurse had left, I heard a knock on the door and a doctor stepped into the examining room where I was sitting in a paper jacket with a paper drape over my bare legs. I glanced up and thought, "Oh, my doctor must still be stuck at the hospital, so they've sent in somebody else."
And then I looked again when I heard her address me and realized the person I was looking at WAS my doctor. I never would have recognized her in another setting.
She'd gained a lot of weight and her long dark curly hair was gone, replaced by a short, straight, light brown modern hairstyle that framed her face. Her face looked puffy, she had acne, which was unusual for her, but even though she looked tired, her smile was the same. I immediately complimented her on her new haircolor and style. Such a bold change! It looked good--so shiny--and I loved the warm highlights and the shape of it.
She replied that she was glad I liked it, and then she cheerfully and matter-of-factly told me she was wearing a wig, that she'd lost all her hair, and that she was receiving chemotherapy for breast cancer.
Her conversational tone and easy manner kept the moment from being awkward, but I was stunned, hurting for her, wanting to hear that her new hairstyle was part of a midlife do-over, not a life-threatening disease.
The news, which would have been bad under any circumstance, hit me particularly hard. Dr. D and I are the same age. We have been together since our 20s, when she was fresh out of med school and studying for her Boards, and I was new to the area. We arrived here at about the same time, and I was one of her very first patients. I loved her energy, passion and how easy she was to talk to.
We were about the same height and weight, had similar body types, and both of us had long curly hair. We'd always chat not just about medical issues but about our lives--and about our hair! We also frequently compared notes on jewelry; she has some great pieces. As we entered our 40s, we complained about weight gain and our changing shapes.
When I was 29, I wanted to have a tubal ligation. I'd been married almost 10 years, and the Man and I didn't want children. While everyone around us jumped into parenthood, we admitted we just weren't interested in raising a family. I wanted a permanent contraceptive solution, and Dr. D told me if she did a tubal ligation, there would be no turning back.
Then she added, "You know, you're not yet 30, and for a lot of people, everything changes when you turn 30. It really does. Why not wait a little longer to be sure?"
Because I trusted her instincts as well as her medical judgment, I did wait.
And she was right.
When I turned 30, everything changed in my life, especially my perspective. It was during that year that I first began to think that maybe, just maybe, I might want to be a mother after all.
As it turned out, Dr. D and I would be pregnant around the same time. She broke her ankle during her first pregnancy and had meningitis during her second but took everything in stride. She has two girls, close in age to my own two children.
During my pregnancies, we saw each other frequently and bonded even closer, having frank discussions about all things medical and many things personal. Years ago, I lost a baby during pregnancy and was emotionally distraught. She called me at home the weekend before I was to have surgery to see how I was doing. She stayed on the phone with me a long while, answering questions and talking me through the process. It was an enormous comfort to me during a difficult time.
Medically, she has never let me down, and personally, we've related so well to each other. It seemed we were navigating life together.
And now she has breast cancer.
As we talked about her cancer (and our hair, of course, we ALWAYS talk about our hair), I was struck at how everything had changed and nothing had changed. Physically, it was clear she'd been transformed by her illness, and oh how sad I felt when she pointed out to me that she no longer had eyebrows or EYELASHES. But the spark in the brown eyes behind her glasses revealed that inside, she was just the same. Chatty, friendly, warm, and yet matter-the-fact.
A doctor married to a doctor, she's still not sure what her prognosis is. Who can say? The cancer is in her lymph nodes, but it's a type that's responsive to treatment. Her mother had breast cancer at 38 and survived, but she knows there are no guarantees. We talked about Elizabeth Edwards, about facing the future with cancer.
As the conversation moved from medical issues to business interests and the state of her practice, she displayed the same zest she always has.
"There's so much we can't control. What can you do but get up in the morning and keep going?"
When I left the office I carried equal measures of grief and hope, fear and courage. I had come face to face with one of my biggest fears and witnessed true grace--not false optimism or blind faith but a commitment to carrying on and moving forward, living with confidence amid uncertainty and challenges.
It will be about two weeks before I get my test results. I won't pretend I'm unconcerned, but I know if there's a problem, Dr. D and I will get through this next stage together.
(Update: Since I posted this, I learned my primary care doctor, who is in her 40s, also has breast cancer, and the mammogram tech who has done my mammograms for 8 years has breast cancer too. For a while, my chidren's pediatrician appeared to have been battling a major illness as well. I don't know if it was cancer but I suspect maybe it was. It's both sobering and unbelievable. What is the likelihood that every female medical professional I deal with would have breast cancer?)
breast cancer, mammogram in Midlife
Reader Comments (11)
Life, packed with occasions and opportunities, is best lived with eyes-wide-open awareness, grace and dignity.
Your essay is touchingly illustrative of this.
:)
Thinking positive for you - and for Dr. D.
www.cancertutor.com/Cancer/Budwig.html
www.beating-cancer-gently.com
www.healingcancernaturally.com
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSoddptWL0s
http://www.credence.org/video/cancer/videolive/
http://www.canceriscurablenow.tv/
Live long my friends,
Martin