When I last left you, I was waiting to hear from the GP about the results from my mammogram, ultrasound and biopsies. When I didn’t hear anything over the weekend, I figured that no news was good news.
By Monday afternoon, I had a message to call and make an appointment with the GP. I called up to make an appointment and was told to come in on the Wednesday. I guessed if she was happy to wait until Wednesday to see me, then surely it couldn’t be bad news or she’d want to see me sooner.
I went off to my appointment by myself, though some work colleagues were concerned and wanted to wait with me, but I thought whatever the news, I just want to hear it by myself so I know what I’m dealing with.
When I met with the GP, she was quick to deliver the news that I did indeed have breast cancer, Stage 2B, grade 3, and it was triple negative, which wasn’t great, but also could mean it might have a good response to chemotherapy. She quickly organised a referral and a nurse at the clinic to make an appointment for me to see a surgical oncologist. The nurse could not get an appointment for me and told my GP. My GP told her to call back and tell the surgical oncologist’s secretary that ‘she will want to see Marnie’. And so I got an appointment with the surgical oncologist for the very next day.
I then returned to work where I was meant to be chairing a teleconference of representatives from all of the state, territory and Australian governments. Fortunately, a colleague stepped up to chair the meeting for me and I listened to the meeting as best I could as I tried to digest the words from my GP that continued to ring in my ears: ‘I’m sorry, you have breast cancer’.