My First Day at the Cancer Mall

I'm calling it that but I am being, I know, saying it in a sort of smart ass way, fake bravado to hide what I know will be a nerve wracking wait for the surgery. I walked in with my dear and trusty best friends, Jean Jackson, advocate and nurse and friend extraordinaire, and Priscilla, my sans pareil. We all went through it together, the drive to Sunnybrook, walking into Odette Hall, the Cancer building at Sunnybrook. It looks like a big mall. In the middle, a big hug reception area. High canopied ceiling  with skylights, chairs all around, the Sympton Screening Kiosks where you check in and go through a little "How Are You Feeling Today Quiz", where, on a scale of one to 10, you register pain, anxiety, nausea, depression etc that you are feeling that day. You are supposed to do this every time you come for a visit, chemo treatment, appointment re your cancer. It helps the doctors track your progress through the cancer.

We got there early but at about 11:45 (our appt was at 11), we finally, I finally met my surgeon, Dr. Kupets. Not given to warm and fuzzy, she was pretty abrupt but might have what can only be described as a VERY DRY sense of humour. Jean was with me during the whole thing as well as Prill. She also tried to ask a few questions. Here's the scoop - radical hysterectomy in 4 to 6 weeks, cervix, uterus and ovaries and pelvic lymph nodes.  Sorry can't be sooner, only one day a week in the operating room, and it'll an incision, longways down from the belly because, well, laproscopic surgery is for "thinner" people. In other words, I'm too fat for it. Plus, it's actually safer/more thorough in my case. I have low grade, Stage 2 out of 3 cancer. Here's hoping it hasn't gone outside my uterine wall. They will take everything out and hopefully I will not have an infection, need a blood transfusion (it happens...things can be nicked, everything is really close together", injury possible to bladder and bowel because they have to move stuff around and, of yes, possibility of blood clots.."

Shit.

4-5 days in the hospital and 4-6 weeks recovery, walk around, staples out after 10 days, hold a pillow when you cough, take stool softener for the constipation, and drink 8 to 10 glasses of water a day. And don't lift anything more than 10 lgbs. And, oh, shower no baths because we don't want the stitches to get infected. And, uh, no intercourse for at least 6 weeks.

Right.

THe cancer mall was full of all sorts of people, many with cancer and it showed of course. Lots of bald heads, lots of turbans and woman with flair through the cancer. A pair of adult male twins that Prill hoped didn't both have cancer. A young Indian couple, man on one side, woman on the other holding up an older indian woman, their mother?, who was in pain. They both looked worried.  It was a place of normalcy but yet full of worry. Others there just matter-of-factly going to their treatment.

An older grey-haired Indian couple both in jeans went to see Dr Kupets before me and I saw Prill talking to them after I cam out. They were scared and thought she was the most cheerful person there (this has been said before) and I talked to them He said "she's very very scared". I told her I had the same cancer. That it was one of the most curable, that yes, the radical hysterectomy was the best option. "She's my dear dear wife", he said, "we don't have any children".  I told her maybe we'd be roommates! Maybe even have our surgery on the same day! It seemed to cheer her up.  "God is my best friend", she said. "Oh, that's good" and silently hoped God was my best friend too. She asked all our names. They are Jameel and Farida. I felt so much for them and for their fear.  I know everybody's praying for me and am so greateful for all the love surrounding me. Scared as I am to thing of things going wrong and trying to be strong.

Then Jean took us through the Wellsprings house. I am quite moved by the new world I have entered.

Or should I have called it A Womb of One's Own

Today was a day of death and rejoicing, in a crazy way. This morning's funeral Mass for Tony Crema was lovely and simple, not as crowded as the funeral home last night, but good. The boys gave lovely eulogies which was almost, unformtuantely, ianudible. But you got the gist that they loved their nonno, that he was special to them. And the lunch afterwards was great. I got back to work after 2, worried about getting something for Robert's retirment in Montreal - which I will not go to. Jen came in and we talked about the cancer for a bit. She's been through it all herself, as well as her mum and now hr brother. She knows the score too well, unfortuantely. It's a griim knowledge but a hopeful one all the same. And it gave me confidence even thoug I admit I am feeling a bit nervous about what I will hear. My cousin Rino, who has been coping with oral cancer this past year, who has loved singing all his life, who doesn't smoke, who has lost his voice a bit because of the treamtnet, reassured me about how great Sunnybrook was, as did Jen. And he held me close and said, "Don't forget to be strong and optimistic..that's the most important thing". And I believe him. And I remember Joan saying, "Expect the worst and hope for the best".  Somewhere in there is my own mantra to lull me to sleep tonight.

Getting closer to D Day

It's Monday already, just one more day until I meet with the surgeon at Sunnybrook. Phone calls and e-mails of thoughts prayers and worry are coming in every day. Messages of support. Even e-mails that tell me how to avoid cancer (too late!!!) by never eating fruit AFTER a meal and on and on. Assurances that  they know someone who had a hysterectomy and now they're fine. They feel great. And my big cousin John worried almost to tears to hear the news. I felt almost worse for him. I don't feel yet and yet I know thoughts of death haunt me all the time... way before I ever had any idea I had anything as scary sounding as "low grade Stage 2-3 endometrial cancer".  I read the internet survival stats. Another friend writes on Facebook "Stay away from the internet. You'll get scared to death". Or something close to that. A little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing...or can lead to dangerous thinking at least.

Today I went to Tony Crema's wake, Susie's dad. He was just 80. A healthy vigourous man until this cut him down. He suffered terribly for the last year or so with colon cancer. A slow, long and painful death. He suffered terribly.  And the family with him. I'm not to keen on that. But I don't want to face the possibility of an unsuccessful outcome either.

I can't help but think of those who have gone down the cancer road before me.  Some are still here. Others are not.

And yet, I do not "feel". I am numb. I am not panicked. It an odd empty barren feeling. I guess I am at sea. Until Wednesday.

A Wake Up Call

I was lying in bed after having finished Coppermine, Keith Leckie's new novel that we're reading for our book club. Interesting story, kinda corny happy ending riding off into the tundra but okay...I'd finished ita 3 m. Still enough time to sleep at least six hours before I got up to remake the guest room bed for Sean who would be coming in from Prague that nigh...okay...And then the phone rings. . I look at the clock,..it's just a bit after nine. "Hello, Lauretta?  This is Joyce from Dr. Shime's office..."  "Oh, yes.." I answer.
"Doctor Shime would like to speak with you."
"OK".
"Hello Lauretta".
"Hello Dr.Shime".
I'm cradling the iPhone which was on my bedside table.
"The pathology report came back from thism mornig".
"Oh, yes" I say.
"The found you have some cancer in the lining of your uterus. I'm sorry".
"Oh..I see....I guess that means a hysterectomy"
"Yes...I'm sorry to tell you this.I thought it looked kind of funny when I did (the d&C 9 days before). But I don't do that procedure.   I'd like to make an appointment for you at Sunnybrook. Will you let me take care of that for you.
Yes, of course. Thank you."
Is your schedule flexible".
"Yes, it is"..I am very calm.."Good. Joyce will call you with details for the appointment."

"Okay, thank you." So that was it..I closed the phone. And put my head back on the pillow..
"Huh..I have cancer"...How do I feel?" I didn't.
That was my first minute of knowing I now had the big C. All sorts of stuff startied going through my head.
I didn't feel much of anything, strangely enough (maybe it isn't strange at all. Maybe it's typical. It was just like a "Oh..wow. .huh? Pretty inarticulate, insensate stuff. ..A few minutes passed and I phoned Jean, my good good friend, who had had cancer, who works with cancer patients at Wellspring, who'd come with me to Women's College last week for the hysteroscopy. We talked about it. Yes, I was alright, I assured her. Then I phone my mother..who was equally calm at least on the surface. I spoke in calm measured tones. No, I'm okay mom...Then I phoned Priscilla, also more or less calm but I knew she'd be freaking out inside. That was the shortest call. "Okay then, talk to you later"..Then my sister Bruna..and I started to choke up as I heard her surprise and heard her starting to choke up. But we were all so calm, murmuring reassurances and so the day went.

Somewhere during the day I thought..maybe I should start a blog to chronicle this..it's going to be ajourney, an adventure..a ?, a what...and to where...

Trying to get a grip I thought a blog would help..so there it is...Day One. August 25.

After that I went to the internet and googled Cancer of the Uterus where I found I was the ideal candiate:
Pst-menopausal, around 60, never pregnant, diabetic, early starter, late finisher (for my periods and..oh yes, overweight. Okay, technically obese!  Wow..they should have my picture on a stamp..or at least a poster.."Does this woman look familiar? - She's the endometrial cancer poster girl".
All of asudden I was tired. Not even scared. Maybe just stunned.
Then came the call from Joyce. "You know, I was a bit stunned this morning, Joyce..exactly what kind of cancer do I have"..It says he a low grade stage 2/3 endometrial cancer. You have an appointment next week, August 31 at 11 at Sunnybrook. Dr.So and so..

And so it goes.

I'm signing off for today because it exhausts me to say it all again.But I'll say more tomoorw. What I want to do is include pictures of my brain as all the thoughts wind through it, curlicues and mazes of half-thoughts and wow, huh, what happens next and all sorts of probably understandable and predicatable reactions that everyone who has ever heard the words "you have cancer" experiences.
Except that I never had. And now that's all changed.

I try to be clever and funny about it but I know I am ne.rvous inside. I breathe and try to speak calmly, in measured tones, etc. Until Wenesday, don't think until Wednesday..I don't sleep well. To top it all off, I have a house guest, 23yrs old. I don't have the energy to go an pick him up. And the traffic is awful anyway. Prill phones at least 4 times, each time I have someone else on the other phone.

It's a long first day with the big supposedly low grade "C".