You. Are. Cured.

After my year of pitching a tent at the cancer center, I went in for a follow-up and the doctor declared "you are cured!" Then I woke up from my dream and realized that never happened. I know, it should! I wish it would! But, it hasn't.

Instead, I'm floating in this weird limbo where the major things feel done, but appointments still dot my calendar. I have follow-ups and follow-ups to the follow-ups. Medications still have to be refilled. I have pains here and there. Hair growth is slow. Too much to declare myself bald and not enough to feel comfortable going out without a hat.

My medical oncologist sent me to X-ray for some ongoing pain in my ankle. The result was to move me on to an MRI. The nurse called the other day and said "well, it is not cancer but you do have some orthopaedic issues." Now, I'm being referred to an orthopaedic specialist for these unknown "issues." Wait, back the truck up! What did she mean by saying "it's not cancer!" I never thought it was! Was that a possibility? I am not going to go through life worrying that every little pain is cancer. But, sometimes there is a little evil minion in the far recesses of my brain that wants to place that thought in my head. I usually squash him. But, sometimes I wonder. If my body could "make" cancer cells once, what keeps it from doing it again? BOOM! Sorry, I had to take a rubber mallet to that evil minion. It made a bit of a mess, but I think it will all work out.

"Oops, we hit a snag"

Okay, I was ready for "the big appointment." It had taken on monumental proportions in my head. It was time for my husband and I to see the surgical oncologist again to decide what type of surgery would be best for me. I was armed with a notebook full of questions.

Instead, she came into the little room to report that the MRI showed something in my left breast. Something tiny, she assured me. Something solid, but not really suspicious. Guess what this means? Me versus the big needle, part two! Another biopsy was scheduled. I loved the first one so much, why not try it again!

I left the appointment feeling disappointed and torn. I didn't want to wait any longer for answers. I did not want another biopsy. I wanted the game plan! But, in the back of mind I realized it gave me a little more time before I had to start this process that I didn't want to do in the first place. It gave me a little more time to pretend like the breast cancer wasn't real, if I could.

"The Sweet Sounds of the MRI"

MRI technicians would not make very good DJ's. I'm in the tube, face down, enjoying a good pop song being piped in through the hospital headphones when BANG, CLANG, BOOM! Is the idea to scare the cancer out of you? These noises just might do the trick! I'm all for whatever works!

Seriously, I was concerned when I arrived about claustrophobia. So many people seem to be worried about that, so why shouldn't I be? I found that because you are face down, this is not an issue. It is just like being on a massage table only without the awesome massage part, you get music and abrupt banging noises instead. It's like Oscar the Grouch rummaging around in his trash can with 30 of his closest grouchy friends.

Honestly, my least favorite part was getting the IV (I have previously mentioned my unhappiness with the pokey sticks). Oh, and when they start giving you the dye during the MRI it doesn't hurt, but feels really cold and weird (I imagine it was the same way spiderman felt when he got bit, but that is just a guess on my part)!

"The Roller Coaster Ride"

In between visiting with all those nurses, I did spend quality time with the doctor. She was patient, explained so many things my head was spinning (even though I took notes) and gave me good news and bad.

According the the ultrasound, the tumor is stage 1 in size (1.6 cm). However, it has that nasty grade 3 rating (aggressive). She said it is best to be positive on the ER and PR lab tests. Both of mine came back negative (of course). Not sure yet about the HER2/Neu. Since I'm young, the tumor is aggressive and is not responsive to hormone therapy, I will be having IV chemo (I almost jumped for joy over that news).

Next step: a breast MRI. Then we talk about our surgical options.

We (my husband and I) have a mixed bag of news. We have shock and emotion coursing through our systems and sometimes we have totally normal moments. It's just like being on a roller coaster, only you don't get the cool wind in your face and you hardly ever get to put your arms up in the air!