Dr. Kohn's nurse was alway chatty as we walked back to the scale, but this nurse seemed new and unsure of herself. She left me behind after recording my weight as I frantically tried to slip on my shoes. Fortunately she came back because we turned the opposite way down the hall as I had been used to.
After the usual blood pressure, temperature and question, "Have you fallen recently?" she quietly left, leaving behind her silence. In case you were wondering, I didn't check my lab results online before the visit, so I tried to rest confidently in God's shadow. That morning, I was reading in Psalm, "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty" (91:1).
I turned on my kindle and read from Annie F. Downs's book, " Let's All Be Brave." I thought it was a good idea to read about being brave as I waited to hear if anything scary was going to pop up on my blood tests. Annie writes: "When God tells you to be brave, he will make it work. It won't be perfect. It won't be easy. But it will be your story and your best story."
When my new doctor knocked and entered, she smiled as she swiftly rubbed hand sanitizer on her hands. After it dried sufficiently, she shook my hand and offered, "You are one of Dr. Kohn's patients?"
I was accustomed to reading Dr. Kohn's expressions if there was a problem with my blood counts. Dr. Van Haelst smile, therefore, put me at ease. She then asked questions about my diagnosis, scanning the papers in front of her, what chemo I went through. "Oh, your tumor was quite large," she remarked. "Did you find it yourself?"
I told her it was found on a routine mammogram and she was surprised I hadn't felt it myself. I wonder about that myself, but all I remember is feeling a slight thickening. I should have been more aware, but at the time, I honestly didn't think I was at risk for cancer. I should have realized that being a woman was enough of a risk.
She then asked me if I had my blood drawn recently. What? You haven't read the info and prepared like I was used to from my previous doctor? Now, I realized I my confidence in her smile was mislaid.
She rolled up the chair to the computer and pulled up my info. Glancing quickly, she said, "Everything looks fine. Even that marker that Aimee said is sometimes high is normal."
Okay, I can breathe again. Thank you, Lord. That is great news. She, too, was perplexed why that marker would range high, since I wasn't a smoker. Then she started sharing with me info that made me instantly feel positive of her as my new doctor. She told me that my prognosis is very good. That the drugs I had for chemo have been very effective at treating my type of cancer, especially the Herceptin. She worries more about her estrogen negative patients now, because she has seen the cancer recur with them more often than us triple positive types. She said that perhaps we could have treated my cancer with just the Herceptin and the aromatase inhibitor (the estrogen suppressing drugs), but it was good insurance to throw everything possible at it when we could. As hard as chemo was, looking back now in this land of uncertainty, I agree.
She confirmed that the chances of me not recurring is probably in the mid 90%. This was the first time, since Dr. Hunter, my radiation oncologist, who confirmed the percentage. As much as I loved having Dr. Kohn as my oncologist, I felt like every time I was in her examining room, she was looking for cancer. With Dr. VH, I felt more that she was confirming that cancer wasn't there. It's a small difference, but when I live frequently with the fear of cancer coming back, it feels big.
I've been hesitant about thinking I'm "cured." Almost like taking the verse in proverbs, "pride goes before the fall," and exchange pride with "confidence of a cure" goes before the fall. I know in my head that's not correct. That it doesn't matter what I think. Maybe an err towards caution is good because it motivates me to keep walking, try to eat better, and be aware that my one glass of occasional wine doesn't turn into too many.
Yet, my trust needs to be in Jesus, who is the "author and perfecter" of my race. He knows if my race will include more cancer or not. Today, it is cancer-free. I'm thankful I can be confident in that.
Because my only risk factor is the late age I had my first baby, Dr. VH also doesn't agree in having yearly MRIs as Dr. Kohn did. If I had extremely dense breasts, she would probably be more inclined, but she feels confident in once a year mammograms at this point. She did extend me a chance to voice my opposition to her opinion, but, honestly, I'm okay with it. I do not like MRIs, and the stress leading up to them is not healthful. I'm kind of glad I don't have to do one.
So, I left the office feeling pumped about another clean bill of health, with instructions to have my mammo and bone density scan in October. I stopped by scheduling on my way out, and the nurse took my paperwork, told me something was wrong with the computer and she would schedule it and let me know when my appointments were.
It's been two weeks and I haven't heard. I may wait another week and make sure it's in the works. Without Dr. Kohn running the show, I can see how things might fall through the cracks.For now, it feels amazing that I have a whole summer before me and time to hopefully get settled into our crazy fall schedule (three kids in high school!) by the time I grace the door of the clinic again. And, I might need to go Whidbey Island to get my cup of Whidbey Coffee. Who's in?
