Today was my 6 month checkup at the cancer center. I go twice a year to have blood work done and meet with my oncologist. It’s usually crowded at the cancer center, but Friday’s are always the worst. Today was no exception, there were already 12 people in the waiting room at 8:30 a.m.; 10 women, 2 men.
I do my usual surreptitious survey of the crowded waiting room. One woman is bald, wearing only a scarf around her head. There are at least 3 other women with wigs, they’re all with their husbands, or significant other. The rest have hair, so are either too early in the process to have lost their hair yet or are there, like myself, for post treatment checkups.
It’s kind of gruesome, I know, but it’s how I look at the waiting room, now. I mentally try to assess where the patients are in their process, remembering how scared I was when I came for my first appointment, then the strange calm I felt at my first chemo treatment, then how I became an old hand at it after 16 chemos as I came to know what to expect. Visiting the center always brings it all back, but I’m not afraid anymore.
Here’s how it is now, when I’m in what I consider to be “maintenance mode.”
I feel like a Senior in high school, who knows what to expect, who’s seasoned and knows what’s coming. Been there, done that. I know the drill, there’s nothing they can throw at me to surprise me after the 4 years I’ve been doing this (or so I delude myself into thinking).
I go in, check out the waiting room: are there any chairs left? I quickly assess the waiting line at the receptionist desk: which one looks like it will go fastest? I get my $20.00 copay out in advance, dismiss their receipt when they ask me if I want one. I’m an efficiency machine. Go to the cloakroom, check my coat as I know I’ll be here for a while, and don’t want to carry it around from room to room.
I find my chair in the crowded waiting room, knowing that since it’s so busy this morning, I’m not getting into the nursing station for blood work for at least another 20-30 minutes. I take out my phone, check emails, Facebook, Twitter.
After about 20 minutes, my name is called; it’s one of the nurses I know well, who used to do my blood work every chemo and now does my bi-annual blood work. We follow the same routine; I ask about her family, she asks how I’m feeling, how am I? She’s always hopeful, I’m sure they’re so glad when their patients are healthy. It must be hard to see people go through this day in and day out, many of whom get sicker and sicker at each visit.
She takes my vitals, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate and then asks me which arm she can use. I tell her not the left one as that’s where they removed lymph nodes. She ties my right arm off, I tell her where the scarring is and to avoid those spots, she finds a good vein that’s still in working order and quickly draws 2 vials of blood.
The nurses in the oncology center are really good; they can get a needle in with just a pinch and rarely have trouble finding a good vein, for which I’m very grateful. And, before I even left the house, I’ve already had at least 16 ounces of water as I know I need to be hyrdrated since they’ll be taking blood.
While I’m sitting there, I admire the walls covered with bucket list postcards from all the previous patients. Ireland, Italy, Paris, Bermuda, Spain, islands, resorts, all sorts of beautiful and exotic postcards cover the wall from patients. I realize I’ve never sent them any postcards from my bucket list trips (Paris, Santa Fe, The Grand Canyon, Cancun) and make a mental note to send them on my trips going forward.
My nurse returns with a report of good blood results and I’m off to an exam room to meet with my oncologist. The drill there is to take off your clothes from the waist up, put on a gown and sit patiently until he shows up, which he does in only about 5 minutes. He does a physical exam and asks how I’m doing, same fire drill: How are you feeling, how are you tolerating the Tamoxifen, have you changed any of your meds since last time, etc.
We exchange pleasantries about our families and what we’re doing for the holidays.
I ask him the $60MM dollar question that I always ask him, each visit. Would a cancer recurrence show up in any of these tests? Would my blood work show that it had spread if it has metastasized?
He gently reminds me that no, it won’t necessarily show up in my blood and that most likely they wouldn’t know about a recurrence unless I started to feel unwell or have vague symptoms like fatigue or achiness. (Which are also symptoms for just about every illness known to man, by the way, so you can imagine where my mind goes whenever I feel a twinge or ache.)
Which never sits well with me, because I know that by that time it would be far along, but it’s just the little dance the two of us do together. I try to get him to promise me that it won’t return, he tries to remind me that no one knows, but so far, so good.
And then that’s that. We’re done; I say goodbye, have a great holiday (he’s going to Florida with his wife, sounds fantastic) and get ready to dress so I can be on my merry way.
And for some strange reason, it makes me feel better to put this all down on paper. It soothes me to chronicle things, not sure what that says about me, but it’s always been this way for me, so I’ll just keep at it.
Hi Claudia! Congratulations for surviving another “test” and coming through it relatively unscathed! I’m sure it isn’t fun but you very likely helping other women who are just at the beginning to know that many women can and do come through it and not just keep on living–but thriving. And yes, doesn’t it always seem to help to write about the experience? ~Kathy
Kathy @ SMART Living 365.com recently posted…Science Says YES! To Happiness
Thank you, Kathy! I hope that these posts will help other women going through a breast cancer experience. I try to share what I wish I’d known when I was diagnosed. Thank you for reading!
I have to wonder what it is they’re monitoring if they can’t tell you anything you really want to know with the results? I can’t imagine how it must be for you, my friend, always wondering. You’ve got great courage.It’s true about writing though. Writers write to figure out how they feel, to comfort themselves. Thank you for sharing your very personal journey with us. I am, thankfully, not experienced in having cancer, although I am experienced in loving someone who had cancer. I find a lot of comfort in your posts nonetheless.
I’m honored that you find comfort in them, Kathy. Thank you for letting me know that, it makes a huge difference. xo
Claudia Schmidt recently posted…A Trip To the Oncologist
Great post & congrats on another oncologist visit. I ask the same things too. Get the same answers. But I’m sure this post will help so many.
Thank you, Kim. I love your blog, by the way!
This reminds me exactly of going to our cancer center quarterly to see my hematologist or to have the twice early infusions. Right down to the missing lymphnodes. It’s always such a stressful time then I get mad at myself because others like you have had it so much worse.
Rena McDaniel recently posted…GRISWOLD HOME CARE PROVIDES INSPIRATION AND A GIVEAWAY!
Oh Rena, you are such an inspiration. You’re so strong and have gone through so much, please never compare yourself to me or others. Your own journey has been very difficult and you’re an inspiration to me because of how you live through it with joy and love, which I see each time I read your posts. xo
Claudia Schmidt recently posted…A Trip To the Oncologist
Maybe next year you, after 5, will graduate to a yearly visit.
I’m on the yearly plan but I still get anxious. It is a routine! My veins are shot so blood has to come from the top of my hand with me directing which needle, and encouraging that it is Ok to keep going. Geezeee
Haralee recently posted…3 Parties in One Day, I am a Party Girl!
Maybe next year WILL switch to once a year, like you. Thank you for reading!
Yay, Claudia! HOORAY! We need to celebrate. Lunch sometime soon?
I’m so glad you put this to “paper” and that it’s cathartic for you.
I’m so glad you’re my friend. Seriously let’s meet up soon. We need to clink our glasses and make a new year wish! xo
Cathy Chester recently posted…Becoming Enough: What Do You Do For A Living?
Hi Cathy – I’d love to get together for lunch, sent you a PM on FB. And thank you for reading, you’re the best! xo
Thanks for this post. I am just finishing up treatment, and will start tamoxifen next week … I find it interesting that they do all these tests and yet there is no way to know it has come back until it is far too late to do anything … of course I feel fatigue and achy all the time (post-surgery and post-chemo) – I’m still recovering so the aches are blamed on that, but there is always at the back of ones mind the question … hope you get cleared for the yearly exams soon and life ticks on .. thanks for writing.
Becky recently posted…Cancer language and the war metaphor
Hi Becky – Good for you and I hope you tolerate the Tamoxifen well. My first 6 weeks were a little tricky because I had some mood swings, but after that they leveled out and I’ve not had any real issues, other than the ridiculous hot flashes so hoping you do well with it. Thank you for your generous words, xo
I feel that these visits have no value for many patients. In my case, my primary care doctor does yearly bloodwork and follows my general health, yet I am still supposed to see the oncologist twice a year. I suppose the visits have value for oncologists, since they can get a feel for how cancer survivors are doing over the years. But quite frankly, I no longer wish to be a data point. Especially since oncology follow up visits put severe stress on me, and by extension, my family.
I can understand how they would upset you, they do cause a lot of fear for me as well, but once I’m done, for some reason I feel like I’m “good” for another 6 months.
I feel the same…good until the next time
Yup, living each day (or 6 months) at a time.
Hi Claudia,
Talk about a timely read for me today! I am ‘visiting’ my oncologist tomorrow for my six month check. Like you, it helps me to put my thoughts down on paper. Chronicling is soothing. I’m glad your appointment went okay. Love the post. Thank you for chronicling this stuff. I will think about your post tomorrow when I head to my appointment.
Nancy’s Point recently posted…That Other “F” Word
Hi Nancy,
Sounds like we’re on a very similar schedule with our oncologists. I’m sure tomorrow will go well for you. I’ll be thinking of you. xox
Another 6 months of good reports, congratulations! I just got home from the oncologist. I have graduated to every year. A good friend of mine, she got breast cancer a year after me and I recommended my oncologist, schedule our appointments together. She goes first then me and then we go out to celebrate another year cancer free!
Haralee recently posted…5 Tips for Refashioning
Hi Haralee – Congratulations on graduating to 1x a year! A lot of us seem to go in the December/January time frame…..glad yours went well, too. xo
Well said. I go next month and I always have anxiety. It isn’t until Blankstein says “looks good” that I can relax and breathe a little until the next 6 months. Can you believe that it’s coming up on our 5 year anniversary my friend? So many wonderful things have come out of this horrid thing called cancer. We are not the same. So glad to be on this journey with you. Love you! xo
Linda Yes, I’ve been thinking about the fact that it’s been 5 years, weirdly enough I just wrote a post about it today because this was actually the week I found the lump 5 years ago, so it’s been on my mind a lot lately. Wow, 5 years, we’re warriors xoxoxoxoxoxo Love you, too, always, my BCBFF xo
same story, right side….celebrating five years in August…God willing . Just went on Monday for my six month visit…good luck and God Bless you on your journey. <3
Thank you, Lori and congratulations for coming up on your own 5 years in the summer! All my best xoxox
This is identical to my biannual follow up experience!
Thank for reading, Maria! Hope your next bi-annual is uneventful xo
Claudia,
It’s all too familiar for too many of us! I’m 11.5 years out from diagnosis, so I no longer come to these checkups. My oncologist said, “If there’s a recurrence, you’ll find it before we do, but I think you’ll do fine. Go live your life.” At first, it was difficult to be cut loose like that, but I’m moving on down the road with my life. My first bucket trip in April: Provence and Paris.
Be well,
Brenda
I had no idea that Friday’s are the most crowded out of any day of the week. I can see why it would be a good idea to schedule an appointment that is not on a Friday. My neighbor overcame breast cancer a couple months ago. I’ll have to ask her how her treatment was, so that I can gain a greater amount of understanding should I ever need to go there.