Tuesday afternoon

Someone from the medical oncologist's office called to tell me when my appointment to meet the doctor is scheduled. I was unhappy to learn it is not scheduled until November 11th. I protested, which was for me crossing a boundary in my normal "patient" behavior (generally, whatever the doctor tells me, I just go along with it. I have not historically been a strong advocate for myself as patient.) I protested saying that my doctor, Dr. M, had said the appointment with the MD oncologist would be THIS week, so I could start chemo NEXT week. If I don't even meet her until the 11th, when will chemo start? Oh, she said, you could start treatment the next day. I protested that, too, said I'm not comfortable with that. And I realized I wasn't. What I understood Dr. M to be saying yesterday was that I would have an appointment some time this week to meet the MD oncologist, hear details about the treatment, meet the oncology nurse assigned to my case, etc. And then have a few days before the first chemo took place. But on the proposed schedule I won't know anything more or take any other step forward for more than another full week. And then the chemo could be sprung on me the very next day.

I don't like it and I told her so. She said she would tell the MD oncologist. Then Dr. M's office called to tell me the date in December - the 7th I think - when I am scheduled to meet the radiologist. I told her that based on the schedule being set by the MD oncologist, I won't be anywhere near ready for the radiation treatments on December 7th. I told her the MD oncologist meet-greet is scheduled for Nov 11th and how unhappy I am about the delay. She said she would tell Dr. M and ask him to call me.

I've learned something from this, weird as it seems. First - that while I really am feeling stronger every day, and while I really did feel better after meeting with Dr. M yesterday, there are still deep emotions roiling just under the surface of my mind, my soul, whatever, and feeling "normal" and "hopeful" is a very narrow and winding path I am walking right now. It doesn't take much to push me off the path and into that morass out there, just barely out of sight, full of fear and grief and anger. How fragile is my new and untested hopefulness. I learned I had been counting on the idea that later this week I will learn more about what is to come with the chemo and yet not have to actually face the chemo yet; counting on there being a little more time before I have to face that, and yet not too much time; knowing the sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over. Now, this likely pleasant woman just doing her job calls to tell me about this appointment and I lose my foothold on normalcy and feel the fear, the anger inside me.

Well, let's see what happens, Will Dr. M call me back? Will he limit himself to being appropriately sympathetic? Or will he try to move up the appointment schedule? Will the MD oncologist herself call me? Will the appointment date be moved up sooner, this week? Who knows?

What I have learned is that really it shouldn't be such a big deal. These things happen. The fact that it "got to" me is the main interesting point of today's experiences. I am learning to know myself: "This is my self. This is my self with uterine cancer."

A beautiful fall day, by the way. I'm going to meet Helen for a walk tomorrow. And right now, I'm going to go read about evolution.

Peace.