Eventually You Cry

December 12th

On December 12^th, I returned to the breast clinic to find out the results of the biopsy. This time I did not go alone. Bob came with me, but had to sit in the hall while I waited in the pink hospital gown inside the clinic. In general, men are not allowed into the inner sanctum of the breast clinic, although there are male staff members who are around. When husbands accompany their wives, they are led into the doctors’ offices by volunteers or nurses when the patient is admitted. 

 

I was called into Dr. Koo’s office in due course, Bob joined me, and with the help of a nurse, Shelley Westergard, I was given the news. The tumour was malignant. I had cancer.  I had been expecting this result and yet it still came as a shock.  I recall a famous book by Betty Rollin, called First You Cry, a ground breaking account of a woman's experience with breast cancer. But I didn't cry right away. I managed to contain my emotions at the time, but inside I was churning with all kinds of feelings.  

 

I remember one of my first concerns was managing the surgery if I returned to work. I had retired in June but I had been told about an ideal long term contract that I wanted to apply for, if I could. It seemed like a moment of Jungian synchronicity: the teaching position would get me through the cancer, I believed. I immediately asked the doctor if I could arrange to have the surgery during the January exam week, so I wouldn't have to miss any classes. It seemed a reasonable request, as my MRI was scheduled for the 10^th of January. However, Dr. Koo had vacation plans for that time, so I had to wait to see if his colleague would be willing to take my case. He would ask and get back to me soon.

 

Shelley spent some time with Bob and me, handing us a package of breast cancer resources: booklets, websites, business cards. She was very warm and open to questions but I did not have any. I guess I was just processing everything.

 

As we left the hospital, Bob wrapped his arm around me, and I felt the inevitable tears.