Just Waiting Around

This is a very strange process dealing with breast cancer.  Oddly, I understand it on a logical level but emotionally it is an over stretched elastic band.  Or as Jody described it this morning, a club sandwich of varying textures of fecal matter.  For all who know her, she did not use those words but I am sure you get it.

We are not catching the EBUS.  As explained by Dr. N.S. the area to be biopsied is very, very, small.  Using the EBUS technique might work but if it didn’t (or was inconclusive) then we would be back to the bronchoscopy anyway.

The bronchoscopy will be day surgery but skin will be cut all the same (no scalpels on the EBUS). 

For all of you keeping score at home, the diagnosis was September 2, surgery September 26 and today is December 4.  Perhaps I am a bit naïve on the process but it seems that eleven weeks is too long before starting chemotherapy.  

Okay here are the near future relevant dates.  Dec. 6 is a preoperative meeting at Toronto East General followed by the scheduled bronchoscopy Dec. 12.  I say scheduled because we have been warned that when you are near the end of the day if the surgeries in front of you take a little longer; it is possible we could get bumped.  Nice, more delay.

Here is the logical part; if there are cancer cells on the lungs then an entirely different process of “therapy” is needed.  Jody has no patience for this logical story.

Every day she is imagining all hell breaking loose inside her because the chemical cocktails of destruction are still in a beaker somewhere instead of in her veins.  While it has been explained, okay we need to do things in order and know for certain what we are dealing with; again the logic.  That does not take care of the emotional angst that has become a daily backdrop to our reality.

Distractions do help.  Like discovering a charming initiative started by a lovely creative lady.  It is called simply, F**K Cancer. (I have chosen to use asterisks but you get the picture)  A very nice piece of jewelry arrived at our door the other day sent to Jody by a member of “the street”.  What is “the street”?

The Street

 Around 1960 six families bought house lots in a maple sugar bush in the town of Rosemere about 20 minutes north of Montreal.  They were all interconnected in some way but that isn’t the story.  These families had a kind of Brigadoon existence as their children grew up.  I don't mean they appeared every one hundred years in the Scottish mist singing and dancing near a carousel.  Instead the children of the street had a rather unique upbringing. Somewhat like an isolated band of urban warriors. I use the term warriors because I personally witnessed the creation of many potato cannons by said members.  Don't know what a potato cannon is, look it up.  Even now in their late 40's early 50's all have gone off in different directions but the bond is unbreakable.

Since Jody's diagnosis EVERY member of the street has been in contact with her.  These are family members without the usual biological linkage, but I digress...

It is best described as a sibling link.  Imagine playing kick the can games that included parents from time to time.  Or perhaps everyone learning and playing the recorder together.  The stories of the street even included a mythical baseball team, "The Rosemere Skunks", that had practices start at 5:30 am.  The day we were married, very early in the morning, one by one the children of the street showed up at Jody's place.

It is very hard to really capture the essence of the early days of Montcalm Street but I have been a proud member for over 32 years.  I was accepted into this clan and accept that everyone of them, their spouses and children are welcome in my house at ANY time.  Don't knock just walk in.  Oh and go ahead look in the fridge if you must...

So my apologies for not posting sooner.  As you can see we have very little news.  As it stands we don't expect to have any more details until after Dec. 14th which is the next scheduled meeting with our oncologist.  That date, 30 years ago, was when our oldest son was born.  Surely that is a date for good news.