It was my Doctor. The test results were in, and they weren't in my favor. I tried to look behind her to see if there was anyone else waiting in line to add another "one-two punch," but she stood alone with words that cut through. In all fairness to her surgical abilities,… her words were probably sharper than a scalpel and were certainly straight to the jugular!
OK. The tumor we were hoping for has caught the last train for the coast. Ugh! This means I have to work a lot harder to get back to the old reliable Robin. I'm so tired of trying to compete with who I am! It's Ridiculous! Why do I have to be Type A and an Over-performer? It would be so much easier if I didn't have to live up to my own overwheming image.
She explained that she would go in laparascopically but I'd need to sign a consent that if she saw anything more she'd be able to do a full blown surgery instead. I asked, "Does this change the stage I'm in?" She said she wouldn't know until after they biopsy other organs if necessary. I asked, "How long for results?" She said 10 days. Ten days of torture; of not knowing what stage cancer you're in. Hell, I just figured out what stage of LIFE I'm in! The final question, and of course this is me assuming I'm living through this crap- "will I need chemo?" Answer, "YES." There in lies the stranger that was in line behind her. The one I thought skipped my line and meant to bother someone else. No such luck. What about my book? How do I add chapters on to the end of "The Diary of a Sugar Mom?" These are some Serious Chapters! Oh dear God… I'm already realizing there's gonna' have to be Book Two. I don't think I could live through it! Oh… maybe I won't HAVE to?
I'm now thinking ahead… I wonder if I have enough hair, … it IS down to the middle of my back… to have someone make me my own wig? It's right up there with finding my car in a parking lot. Same kind of illogical logic that works in my head.
The final question I had for her was, "You said that tonight I had to be on an all liquid diet. Does Vodka count?" She said two things:
"Go for it," and how she mustered up the ability to say the closing comment I'll never know: "Have a good night."
Shouldn't Doctors have pat answers to medical conditions? If you're operating on someone in the morning who has cancer- Here'd be My List of correct comments:
a. Try to get some sleep b. It'll be over before you know it! c. You're in good hands. d. Don't beat yourself up. You need to rest.
"Have a good night??"