15 days ago I flew to Fiji. I promised myself I'd focus on being there, not on what's here, and boy did I ever - I almost drowned in my first diving accident, I burst an ear drum, I did three different dives with enormous sharks, and I completely immersed myself in the beautiful warmth and hospitality of our Fijian hosts. There were even a few moments when I forgot about cancer.
I've never had any issues diving, though I'm not hugely experienced. My only idea as to what happened is I descended too quickly, didn't breathe enough while equalizing my ears, and panicked when I couldn't expand my lungs. I took my reg out of my mouth, I swallowed water, I shot up towards the light of the surface and thought "This is it - I'm going to drown". I was about 40 feet down, close enough to see the top but far too deep to be near the sweet, sweet air I was hungry for. I surfaced far too quickly in an absolute panic, couldn't swim or inflate my BCD and just bobbed there sobbing. Easily the closest I've ever been to dying and by far the most terrified I've ever been - and for a brief time, there was something scarier than cancer.
I forced myself to dive again the next day, and I'm so glad I did because holy cow - the sharks. Tiger, bull, nurse, reef, lemon - and so, so many. From 30 ft long pregnant tiger sharks to 3 ft long baby reefs, they were awesome to witness. I saw them on 3 dives, and was close enough to see their teeth and into their eyes. They were not not scary, but I didn't feel scared. We're not their natural prey, and frankly death by tiger shark doesn't sound that much worse than death by metastatic cancer. My immediate risks far overshadowed whatever I was worried about at home, and for a few days, that was exactly what I needed.
I showed up for my biopsy on 10/21. This is biopsy #4 (thyroid, breast, skin, now lymph node) in my 51 years of life - my 4th go around on the "is it or isn't it cancer" carousel. I want to get off. I don't want to have to be the one to tell the person doing the biopsy how to label it correctly. The radiologist was pretty uninterested and not especially concerned .... until I said "could you please make sure the samples say history of LOBULAR breast cancer?" ... and her entire demeanor changed. She sighed, frustrated, and said "all it says is history of breast cancer. I'll make sure it includes lobular."
Why am I the one making sure my pathology samples are correctly labeled? Why do I have to remind the oncologists that of all breast cancer metastases to the GU organs (vagina/vulva/uterus/cervix) EIGHTY EIGHT PERCENT OF THEM ARE LOBULAR. Sorry for the all caps rant but GODDAMN this makes me mad. How many ILC patients have no idea that their samples don't specify what kind of breast cancer they had, leading to misses and delays in diagnosis. This is such bullshit. The radiologist who took the samples got real serious after that, I got 4 giant pokes and core samples taken, and now I wait. 2-3 business days. They will likely post the results in my portal before my oncologist ever sees them. I will be left to make sense of and process them myself. At least they didn't drop at 5pm on a Friday. A stay of execution until Monday at least.
I remember the last days BC - before cancer - before Jan 27, 2021 - when I waited for the results of the breast biopsy, and I enjoyed the last days of thinking I might still live a full life, that I might not have to face disease or early death, and I'd give pretty much anything to go back to BC. AC - after cancer - I did what I had to do for 5 years of treatment, I followed doctors orders, I tried to live a healthy life so maybe there would be an after after cancer.
And here I am again, in the truly awful place between questions and answers, symptoms and diagnosis, disease and treatment. It's almost comically tragic that my best case scenario is an indolent B cell lymphoma - am I really hoping for lymphoma? Has it come to that? Indeed it has. I have at least this weekend to dwell in the in between, a few days left when it might still be after cancer, not new cancer; when I can still pretend I'll retire and grow old and enjoy years of life with my husband; when I can have a few days without cancer. It took me 5 years to get to the point where I could sometimes go days or even a week without thinking of breast cancer - I fought hard against my own mind to get there, and now it feels all for nothing. Right back where I started, except this time I know more, the prognosis is likely worse, and the treatments more brutal. I am actually grateful they didn't get to my samples before the weekend so I can live in the unknown just a short time longer.
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