It's my mother's birthday and my parents come to the doctor with me. I worry that they'll be late or that somehow I'll be stressed by their company, but it feels really good to have them there. I feel a little guilty that I am ruining my mother's birthday, but I can't really focus on that too much.
Dr. L. examines me and says that surgery won't be for at least another 2 weeks, due to the bruising from the biopsy. He adds that I'll also receive chemotherapy and radiation, but that we don't know the order yet. We might start with chemo to shrink the tumor or with surgery to get it out. He prescribes me painkillers to help me sleep and schedules me for an MRI the following Monday. He describes the surgery as having 2 incisions: one "smile-shaped" cut on my breast and one in my armpit to remove the sentinel lymph node, to biopsy it see whether the cancer had spread. Yay!
His office schedules me to meet the radiation oncologist and the doctor coordinating my chemotherapy. I was an art therapy intern in the radiation oncology office and it feels strange to be back as a patient. The art therapist comes back to catch up with me as I complete enormous packets of information. The geeky part of my brain is annoyed that my information somehow did not travel across the street. Isn't that what computers are for?
Dr. K. examines me and tells me that I'll probably receive 7 weeks of radiation, which will be the last treatment that I get. She suggests that it will be in the summer (2 weeks till surgery, 4 weeks of recovery, 6 weeks for chemo, 4 weeks of recovery). I am comforted by the timeline. While we're in her office, I let my mother feel Lumpy. I try to joke that it's like when she felt my sister's pregnant belly, but maybe that's too dark for this moment.
After the doctors' appointments, I take my parents to 4th street deli. We eat gigantic ridiculous sandwiches and try to process the day. I go home and sleep for hours.
Touch count: 12
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