It was a cold and blustery and dreary February day when I was waiting for my doctor to come in the exam room.
“So, we got your pathology results back. It’s what I suspected since the moment I saw it last month. The results came back positive for Paget’s Disease.” he states calmly.
My mind does a flashback to a month and a half ago when my family doctor mentioned Paget’s Disease. I release a half sigh thinking that it’s probably just a rare skin infection. Right? Otherwise Dr. R wouldn’t have mentioned it so nonchalantly. My mind focuses back to what Dr. H is saying.
“Gina, do you know what Paget’s Disease is?” I shake my head no.
“It’s a rare form of breast cancer,” he pauses.
My world stops.
“Gina, you have breast cancer,” I hear him say in a very slow voice as if coming from a tunnel.
I sit for a moment taking it in. While in a state of shock, I am somewhat relieved to have an answer to this 14 month long saga of illness and injury. Okay, cancer. I pull myself together and focus back on the doctor and nurse who are staring at me with sympathetic eyes.
I muster up, “What…what’s next? What do I do?”
“Paget’s Disease is a type of breast cancer, so you will need to see a breast surgeon and oncologist to figure out your treatment plan. You will most likely need surgery and depending on if it’s progressed…”
“Progressed?!” I shout in my head. “IF…if it’s progressed. I’ve had this for 14 months. How could it NOT?”
“…you will need to talk to over your options with your surgeon and oncologist,” he continued. “I can give you the name of our team downtown if you’d like.”
I think I nod, but I’m not sure if my body is even working at the moment. I end up at the check out desk and the receptionist asks me if I need to make another appointment. No, I shake my head and hand her my debit card for today’s appointment. I slide my coat on and grab my keys. At my car, I open the door and as I get in the wind slams the door shut. I pull out my cell phone. I start to dial my husband’s number and my cell phone dies. Really? Oh not now. I need someone to talk to. I plug in my charger in the outlet. If it’s not at the perfect angle, it will not charge. And today, it decides to stop working altogether. Perfect. I sit for a few minutes in my car crying.
My phone is dead. I have cancer and I can’t call my husband. I have no one to talk to. Well, almost no one.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
To be continued in part 2, here.