Before they tell me

My doctor rocks. I don't want to give the impression that I don't think that the sun shines out of his ass because I totally do. He's just anal retentive enough to worry about the right things but he is irreverant enough to tell me when I'm being insane.
Case and point - I showed up all teary and horrible. I'd been having panic attacks - he gave me tranquillizers which I dutifully carried around in my purse and never took. Still had the panic attacks - I just liked to know that I had the tranquillizers available....just in case. So I'm in his office - crying that the blubbering puke you all know I am - and I say through my tears "am I crazy?" and he says in his no nonsense way "no. actually you are psychotic." Strangely it made me feel better.
Then there was the time that Wayne dropped Ben - who was about 4 months old - on his head in the Toys R Us parking lot - just slipped and fell. The doctor told me his story....seems he and his wife (who is my gynecologist if anyone is keeping score out there) were giving their new baby a bath. Naked babies are slippery and they dropped their son head first into the toilet. He said, when you've done something THAT stupid - then we will talk about guilt!
He's pretty cool.
He's also on vacation in Europe with his wife and kids (neither of whom have brain damage) from June 21 to Septemeber 8th. Ack.
So instead of leaving my final diagnosis/prognosis/treatment plan to a locum, he referred me to his wife's boss - the head of gyne at Sunnybrook (big Toronto Hospital). Tomorrow afternoon, she decides what happens to me. Do I go to an oncologist? More tests? Chemo? Radiation? Are we done? Just starting? If there is a 90% recurrance rate - WTF? Where is that primary cancer anyway? Could I really be so lucky?
I wish my Doctor was here. I could use the irreverence. I could use a friend there with me really. I'm scared putrid to be totally honest. I imagine the doctor would say, as he has before "we're all going to die stupid, its just a question of when". And ironically that would make me feel better.

And now the end is near...

I can see the light at the end of the very dark and weird tunnel. Today, I got final confirmation from the Doctor that they got all of the skin cancer off my leg with the excision - which is amazing news. I'm really really grateful.
All of my tests so far have come back negative - I'm just waiting to meet with gyne at Sunnybrook to see if they want me referred to an oncologist for further tests.
Because its a rare cancer no one really knows what to do with me. Which is okay. I often don't know what to do with myself either!
So before Rick bips at me to not be such a whiney crying puke - I'm not by the way - I just want to thank the Canadian Universal Health Care system for my billion dollars in medical tests and my friends for not getting sick of me. Yay for Sandra's body!

Laundry List

Bone Scan
Mammogram
Pelvic Ultrasound
Transvaginal Ultrasound
Pelvic and Abdominal Cat Scan
Chest xray
Colonoscopy
Excision
MRI

The Big Dilemma

So. The Big Dilemma. Do I talk about it? Do I not talk about it? Then I figured, hey its my blog. Its where I am allowed to express myself. I don't want my friends to be overwhelmed by me whining or being afraid. I don't want my husband to know how worried I am. And I need to kind of "let it all out". So. There you are.
I have this thing on my leg. Started as a freckle. Morphed into a bump the size of a nickle, purple and scaley. Yep. Its attractive. And its also skin cancer. Truth be told I knew it was skin cancer from the second it started to get all gross. Even then, it was Rick who had to force me to tell the doctor about it. I knew he was right. I knew I had to say something. But I also knew it wasn't going to be good. Just today I found a note that I wrote for myself in a book that said "DON'T FORGET LEFT LEG".
Well now, I can't forget it. The fucking thing has turned out to be more than I bargained for.
I went to see the dermatologist. The 12 year old Doctor explained it all to me. I went there expecting that the worst thing that they could tell me was that it was the bad kind of skin cancer. I'd need radiation and it would hurt and I would be fine but I'd have to wear SpH100 for the rest of my life.
What she told me was that the extrammary paget's disease is the skin cancer part. Its just the secondary cancer. Actually what I heard her say was the extra mammary patches - thank god for google sorting me out! I swear when she started explaining to me that this cancer doesn't usually occur without a primary cancer being present - the voices inside my head started to scream...."help me help me"! As she started explaining what kind of cancer it could possibly be: bowel, colon, gyne, breast - my head just screamed "no no no no no no no no no".
I didn't cry. I kept joking with her. She brought in Doctor Cold Hands. We should do your excision today - we need to do it right away. "fuck off - no way - no no no" But there isn't time. Go book the surgery - next available appointment.
Turns out next available is May 10th. I have weeks to wait. In the mean time - I shall be tested up the wazoo - quite literally - to see what kind of host cancer I have. I have cancer. Or do I? I do. Do I have to have a host? Not according to the internet.
Oh yes. I looked it up on the internet. I gave myself one day. One day to look stuff up on the internet. One day to panic. One day to cry. One day to freak the fuck out. Okay, I have had a few extra episodes, but for the most part I've been okay.
I've told people. At first I didn't want to. To tell you the truth, I was kind of ashamed. Its just one more lousy thing that has happened to me because I have not taken care of myself. I have done something else to fuck up my health. I have done something else....I have done it...
The people I told were amazing. I have the most amazing friends. The ones I didn't expect to cry with me did. The ones that I thought would be supportive weren't. The right people told me the right things. People are great. But people have their own lives. They only get to be so invested in yours.
My husband hates sickness. If one of our kids has a cold he demands to know how they caught it and who's fault it is. He has been mercifully NOT like that with this. He does think that is was a mistake in the lab and it is the incompetance of others that are causing me this stress. God I hope he's right. But last night he took me for Flaming Saganaki on the Danforth. If I could eat only one food for the rest of my life it would be sheeps cheese fried in olive oil, set on fire with ouzo and put out with lemon juice. He knows what makes me forget my troubles.
What's the plan?
The plan is to vent here - so if that sucks for you don't read it.
The plan is to write my stories until they are done - because IF and IF is a big IF something is really really wrong, I want to make sure its all documented.
And I need to make some plans - in a just in case kind of way. It would be stupid not to because - my kids. My kids. Goddamn it. My little kids. I don't want them to see me sick and I damn well don't want them to see me die. My heart hurts just thinking about it.

That's my dilemma and I've solved it. This blog is my new release - to help me work it out and sort out my head.