Monday was October 1st. I had a long day ahead. Parent/teacher conferences were supposed to begin on October 2nd, but the schedule only allows for twenty four 15 minute intervals to meet with parents during those 2 days. I had 30 students. I needed more time, so I stayed late on Monday to meet with a few parents. I stayed until 6:00. I was beginning to lose my voice. My cold after my biopsy had escalated a little since I hadn’t taken much of a break. I know I sound awful when I am losing my voice, but I talk anyway. Parents probably wondered why I wasn’t home in bed. I sounded horrible. I didn’t feel horrible, but I definitely sounded like I was on the verge of death. If only parents knew how often I teach when I feel crappy. I give 110% for their kids. They may look at me and think I’m not doing enough. They have no idea. I put the education of their child higher than my own health.
During the conferences I received a call. When the last parent left, I returned the call. I had no idea what I would hear on the other side of the line. Her name was Jill, she began telling me what I could expect over the next few months. Before she began detailing my timeline she asked if I wanted to hear the pathology report from my biopsy. I told her that would be a good idea. I hadn’t been told much that Friday before. Jill explained that what I had was called “ductal carcinoma in situ, cancer of the ducts. The in situ was the most important part. It meant that this cancer was non-invasive.” I felt like someone I loved had slapped me in the face. I was in shock and snapped into reality at the same time. “So it is cancer?” I asked. I had to quickly take in the fact that I had cancer because she was still talking. I’m not sure how I did it, but I continued listening and writing down everything she said. I was sitting alone in my classroom. Except for the janitor, I was the only one in the building. It was like a business meeting. I had my place at the curve of the kidney bean table as if on an important business call. I had my pen in hand. Only I wasn’t taking notes on a student, I wasn’t recording what an important company would do. I was taking notes on what the next year of my life was going to look like because I was diagnosed with cancer.
Jill said I would be put in contact with a surgeon. I would probably have genetic testing because I’m so young. After the surgery they will probably want me to go through radiation therapy, she told me. It is unlikely that I will need chemotherapy, she assured. I should write down everything, because even though I think I will remember all this and what day I did what, I won’t. I need to make a medical timeline. I need to get my family history of cancer. I need to write down all the medications I take. Amidst all this overwhelming news, I can tell you that Jill was wonderful. She answered all my questions. She gave me her cell number telling me I could call her anytime. She was my advocate and was ready to help me in any way she could. I didn’t contact her a lot over the next few months, but knowing I could was very helpful.
I drove the 0.8 miles home in shock. I kept repeating the sentence, “I have cancer” over and over trying to believe it because it didn’t make sense. Periodically, I would pretend that this was all a mistake. It was someone else’s mammogram they saw. There wasn’t anything on my mammogram, they were just making this up so they could make more money. It was that unreal. I knew because of my family history that one day this might happen, I didn’t expect it to happen at 35. I was going to have to call all those people I talked to on Friday and tell them that it was all wrong. It was worse. I didn’t have accurate information. I really did have cancer. I really did.
No comments:
Post a Comment