It's Clobberin' Time! in Here Be Dust

I posted this status on Facebook early on March 4: "GP called this morning and I've got my marching orders. Biopsy showed cancer, so I will head in early this afternoon to set up surgery and we'll take it from there. Won't know what stage I'm in until after the surgery. In other words: It's clobberin' time! Fight vibes much appreciated, and thanks! <3 "

I'll just say that I am very humbled and honored by the outpouring of support, which has included these attachments (among many posts) -- the last two are from Brooklyn grade school buds:

M and I drove into town early yesterday afternoon and met with the GP. I left with a referral from her for surgery, plus the biopsy reports. After scanning everything in, I did a bit of web research, with respect to the surgeons around here and also with respect to my diagnosis.

My prognosis is very good. The cancer I have happens to be rare, occurring in only about 3% of breast cancer cases. It tends not to spread to the lymph nodes and typically occurs in post-menopausal women. It is not aggressive and responds very well to treatment. It also tends to test negative for HER2, a protein associated with more aggressive breast cancers. The results of my test for HER2 are still pending and the surgery would check out my lymph nodes anyway, but I'm heartened by what I've learned.

Given what I've been reading at places like breastcancer.org, I've been assembling questions to ask. I plan to call the local cancer resource center (they're staffed typically on Monday and Wednesday mornings). The next meeting of the local breast cancer support group occurs on the 14th -- far enough in advance so that I have no idea whether that means pre- or post-surgery. I called and spoke with the group leader (she had a lumpectomy 7 years ago) and we had a great talk. She validated my impressions from the web research I'd done on the surgeons -- basically, getting their bios and checking reviews on healthgrades and vitals.

I also called the surgical office, which needs a referral directly from my GP (they won't take the one she gave me), so I've left a message with my GP's answering service and also faxed her a memo that includes my first and second choice for surgeon.

I'm focusing on setting up good supportive care for myself, because much as I would like to, I can't rely on M. However, one silver lining to her mishegas is that she is not freaking out over my diagnosis and on one level we approach it with a shared sense of fascination.

The best silver lining so far is that her family is now ready to become more involved. Her sister called yesterday and we had a great conversation. It's been a tough balancing act there -- I've wanted more involvement from M's siblings in her life (there's been almost no communication at all, period), but in great part that is due to M's issues because she has not wanted to reach out to them. (She was glad for the call even though she told me she had not felt "ready" for it.)

Having that kind of support would make a huge difference. The sister has also offered to fly in if needed, which means a 1700+ mile trip one-way. I told her that right now the best thing she and others can do is call and talk with (which really means listen to) M, regardless of what M says. Keeping fingers crossed there! I'll also have a private talk with the sister, to debrief her on M's condition. She is open to that, and she also understands that I haven't been forthcoming until now because my outreach in the past had been viewed by M as a betrayal.

In short, I hope my cancer diagnosis and what follows sets a bunch of positive wheels in motion!

I'm still getting used to my diagnosis. There's part of me that's "Lock and load!" and "Git 'er done!" and another part that feels as though I'm having an out-of-body experience. When I think of family genetics I focus on diabetes and heart disease (I currently have neither of those, thank goodness). Cancer's basically slipped in under the radar, although my paternal grandmother had died of pancreatic cancer. That said, genetics generally takes a back seat to environmental and other factors when it comes to this kind of thing.

On that note, I am thrilled that I've gotten myself to a healthy weight and fitness level. That's going to help me get through this. It gives my body that much extra in reserves.

As I told M, I am very thankful that this is not the time of my mother's generation. My mother's phobia about cancer was so great that she had gotten upset when I referred to my undergraduate psych course "Communication and Adjustment" as "C&A" (that's what we had all called it in school). "That makes it sound like cancer!" she complained. Those were the days when it was spoken of in hushed tones, when it was spoken of at all.

I'm practically shouting my diagnosis off the rooftop in comparison, for two reasons. One, I want to gather as much support around me as I can, especially given M's limitations. Two, it helps me own this new reality. I feel as though something exotic and dangerous has happened to me. It's scary, but it's also an adventure in a New Life Lesson! (insert Bronx cheer here) kind of way. Right now my main concern is not the surgery or whatever my body will go through, but how to manage my post-surgery convalescence as a sick caregiver. I want to be able to call for backup!

The support group leader is open to any questions I have, so I'll shoot some to her once I get her email or I'll give her another call.

Rollin' up my sleeves...