The need to deliver the baby quickly sent me into a whirlwind of fact-gathering that had to be done as quickly as possible; and I had no idea where to begin. The breast surgeon was inclined to deliver the baby before her vacation. The Monday after my lumpectomy my obstetrician and I conspired to deliver my baby the week the breast surgeon was out of town so that I could have more time to focus on just being a new mommy before cancer activities had to start.
Suddenly there was too much to do and not enough time to do it. With the birth moved up several weeks, we suddenly had to finish preparing the baby's room. The nursery started out as a guest room, so the futon had to be moved into another bedroom and the crib reassembled. I made an appointment to see a nurse practitioner for genetic counseling for the BRCA 1 and BRCA 2 genetic testing the breast surgeon wanted me to have. I made an appointment to see an oncologist for the first time. I was near the end of planning a major upgrade to the computer network at work. I'm the Chief Technology Director and had been working for months on identifying and strategizing all the details of an upgrade that affected nearly every system used by the company. I had to communicate my plans to the consultants and manager who would take over during my maternity leave and all the medical appointments keep cutting into my workdays. That added to my stress as I tried to prepare things at work for my absence while navigating to new medical offices to make appointments on time.
I felt so sad and alone when I filled out the paperwork for my first visit to the cancer center. I met with the nurse practitioner for the genetic counseling and started to cry near the end. I was so overwhelmed. She was kind and compassionate and assured me that I didn't need to take the genetic test now, or ever if I didn't want to. A positive result didn't equate removal of my ovaries by default. It was an option but not an ultimatum. It would take about 4 weeks to get the genetic test results back, anyway, so we couldn't possibly have the results back in time to do back-to-back surgeries as the breast surgeon had suggested. That was a relief.
If I had it to do over, I would have asked my husband to accompany me to these first appointments. Those early days were extremely difficult, and I felt like I was sleepwalking through the motions of my life.
I met with my oncologist for the first time alone, and the meeting went well. I immediately felt comfortable with this doctor. My husband met my oncologist the first time I had chemotherapy, and he agreed that I had lucked into an oncologist who was a great fit to the type of patient I am. My oncologist listened without making me feel rushed, explained without making me feel stupid, and encouraged me to ask all the questions I could think to ask. Over time I felt like a partner in the decisions for my treatment rather than just a passive participant.
I found that it helped bringing my husband with me to the important medical appointments. He would remember details I would forget and when we discussed the appointments later we helped calm one another’s fears as we had both been there to hear what the doctor had said.
I'm getting ahead of myself in the storytelling, though. This initial posting is supposed to be about my diagnosis, not my treatment. Other postings will be poetry and copies of e-mail messages I sent out to a growing audience of family and friends. This initial message is all about filling in the blanks of how I discovered the lump and had a lumpectomy so that the first message from the e-mail collection makes sense.
After a few days of nail biting while we waited to learn whether our baby's lungs were sufficiently developed to be born at 37 weeks, we planned the birth for Monday, March 13th. That happens to be the birthday of my favorite great aunt, so that date became very special to us. Our baby was initially estimated to have a due date of my husband’s birthday, March 29th. If the baby couldn't wait until my husband's birthday to arrive, at least he could share my great aunt's birthday. Better still, my favorite great aunt was able to spend weeks 4 and 5 of our baby’s life living in our guest room and taking care of the baby. Despite the difficult circumstances that became a time to treasure.
Labor was induced on March 13, 2006 – 10 days after my March 3rd diagnosis – and our son arrived about 9 1/2 hours later. He was healthy and perfect. I had one week to focus on just being a new mommy before the cancer activities kicked in.
I found it interesting in retrospect that during those days between the removal of the cancer and the birth of our son, I had a lot more energy. Also the mild nausea that had crept back during months seven and eight left after the lumpectomy. Fatigue and nausea can be normal symptoms of pregnancy. Fatigue and nausea can also be symptoms of cancer. Argh!
I took the recommended maternity ward hospital tour a few days before diagnosis. Along with several other heavily expectant mothers I walked (or waddled) around the happiest floor of the hospital, led by our nurse the tour guide. I thought it was a bit odd that I seemed to be the only pregnant woman who needed to rest at frequent intervals. Before that tour I had thought that all women approaching the last few weeks of pregnancy got as tired as I did just walking from her desk to the ladies room. Yeah, apparently not... I hadn't realized how bad it had become until the tumor was out and I was still pregnant but with a LOT more energy.
Babies and cancer both change your life forever. Most people, however, get to experience these changes serially rather than simultaneously. Am I a touch cynical that I don't appreciate getting to do this like everyone else?
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