Yesterday, I saw an oncologist for the treatment of my breast cancer. She did an evaluation of my records and asked me to proceed to the examining area where she did a physical examination. Upon feeling over the remaining one, what she told me was, you have a very good breast. I didn’t know if I should laugh out loud or burst into mourning for the lost one.
She told me that because of my results and my age, and that there are 12 out of 14 nodes that are involved, she will have to give me the full dose chemotherapy. That would mean more cost and more side effects, according to her. This would also mean that after February 7, my target date for the first cycle, I will have to stay at home for four months. I suddenly realized that I won’t be able to attend Kiko’s and Angela’s graduation ceremonies, something I had been looking forward to all their lives. I guess this was the hardest to take because I had always wanted to be a parent that is always there as a cheering squad for the kids.
She went on to tell me the dangers and risks I will be taking and the probable glitches down the road. I got a quotation of how much everything would cost and how long it would all take. She gave me the worst case scenario and the things I have to prepare for the duration of the treatment.
Finally, before we left, I asked her, “Doc, instinctively, by my records and how you assess me, do you think I will make it?” After a pause ( a little longer than what would have been a comfortable pause), she said with a sigh, “Yes, I think you will.”
I told her with a smile, “That’s good, Doc. Because let me tell you, I will.”
She told me that because of my results and my age, and that there are 12 out of 14 nodes that are involved, she will have to give me the full dose chemotherapy. That would mean more cost and more side effects, according to her. This would also mean that after February 7, my target date for the first cycle, I will have to stay at home for four months. I suddenly realized that I won’t be able to attend Kiko’s and Angela’s graduation ceremonies, something I had been looking forward to all their lives. I guess this was the hardest to take because I had always wanted to be a parent that is always there as a cheering squad for the kids.
She went on to tell me the dangers and risks I will be taking and the probable glitches down the road. I got a quotation of how much everything would cost and how long it would all take. She gave me the worst case scenario and the things I have to prepare for the duration of the treatment.
Finally, before we left, I asked her, “Doc, instinctively, by my records and how you assess me, do you think I will make it?” After a pause ( a little longer than what would have been a comfortable pause), she said with a sigh, “Yes, I think you will.”
I told her with a smile, “That’s good, Doc. Because let me tell you, I will.”
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