I had to sit with this a while before I could talk to you about Thursday's news.
To bring you up to speed, Dave and I traveled to Houston on Monday to overnight with Dave's gracious aunt who happens (Thank You, God) to live about fifteen minutes from The Rose. I rarely sleep well away from home .. and certainly under the circumstances, I was surprised that I slept like a log.
The Rose is housed in a large, non-descript office building that has dentists and other medical type offices. I don't know what I expected but I was pleasantly surprised that the office and staff were not strictly utilitarian. There was color, there were smiles .. it was a nice, comforting place.
My lack of hearing immediately posed problems when the lady called me up to pay. Hispanic mouths don't move like caucasian ones and I couldn't even lip read. She repeated herself three times, tears welled up and I called for Dave to help me. That rattled me sufficiently that the tears refused to go back where they came from for the next ten minutes. I didn't allow them to breach the rim of my eyes .. but they pooled there for a while. Dave's arm around me, rubbing my back finally forced them to the subterranean pool where they belonged.
They called all the ladies in ahead of me. Even the ones that arrived after me were escorted thru the pretty glass doors while I waited, wondering. Questions formed in my eyes but Dave's eye's answered, "It's okay."
Finally a pretty, young girl called for me and away we went. Thankfully, I could hear her and she assured me that she would scream at me if it was required. Yay. She had a personality and a sense of humor AND would scream at me. I was in good hands.
She told me that her daughter and I shared the same birthdate: April 17th. So I immediately began extolling all the marvelous things about people born on that date, since I have personal experience. They are creative, solitary souls who think too much, react slowly but with a vengence if you piss them off. She nodded in agreement.
Despite being topless on a skinny table with gel on my girls and her gentle ultrasounding gadget sweeping to and fro, I was at ease. We talked about Dr. Melillo, the founder of The Rose and the doctor who would perform my biopsy. I expected a youngish, of Italian descent dark haired, studious beauty who might be a little aloof but thorough and accomplished.
I was so pleasantly surprised when Dr. Melillo entered the room. Older, with gray hair like mine, blue eyes like mine, skin that, like mine, has recorded all the sunny days spent outside. I trusted her immediately. She was warm, personable and her eyes twinkled confidence that mine absorbed with quick gratitude. I was feeling very at ease. Our conversation turned to where I lived and I explained that no one knew where my little traffic-light-free town was. (Caution lights don't count and we only have one by the railroad.)
"Grapeland? I know where that is. I've been on a trail ride there."
I think my response was a classy, "Get out of town!"
Sure enough, our paths have already crossed surprisingly close together and her horse has, no doubt, pooped on my dirt road in an bi-annual trail ride that departs from a nearby ranch. I was astounded. Then she asked about my local visitors .. coyotes. And when I explained that coyotes and bobcats were not my friends because they chowed down on my chickens .. she immediately told me about chasing a coyote in her nightgown that had her prized Rhode Island Red rooster in his mouth.
There. Is. A. God.
What are the chances of finding a country girl who has experienced all the struggles of being a single mom, loves critters AND is a puny boob doctor? I can't say that I often question the existence of God .. hardly ever .. mostly I question what He's THINKING but I know he's there. Still this whole conversation was making my head swim and it had nothing to do with needles or tumors or biopsies.
The biopsy was painless. I hardly felt the lidocaine injection at Herschel's front door. And the rest of the process was fascinating. I watched it all on the monitor opposite the doc's busy hands. She shot some kind of sheath into Herschel's gut and then sent two core samplers in after pieces. Later, I got to see those pieces in a jar. They looked harmless enough.
The doctor told me my pathology report should be back by (hopefully) Friday but, for sure, by Tuesday. I thanked her, and my ultra sound angel for a pleasant experience. Dave couldn't believe I was smiling when I was returned to him. I felt pure relief to have it behind me and profound, boundless joy that my doctor loves chickens.
The phone call the next day rattled me because my results came in only a day after my biopsy. The doc would call me on Thursday morning. I woke at six and started foolishly listening for the call. The Call. Five hours later I heard the voice. Friendly, comforting and grounding despite the fact she told me that, yes, I do have breast cancer.
I already knew that. I probably knew that before we started this whole journey. I'd been praying for months to God for Him to fix whatever was making me feel so tired, so useless and to restore my energy and my strength. As it is, I think this was a lesson in faith, a road to becoming humble. A forced lesson in accepting help and to lose the big yellow "S" I think I should wear 24/7/365.
The love and support I've had since broadcasting this whole experience has been nothing short of miraculous to me. I'm really good at giving love and not so well practiced in receiving it. But, I'll be danged, it feels pretty good and I am soaking it all up like a sponge.
Herschel will be excavated as soon as the glorious State of Texas decides I am worthy of a few bucks to provide his removal (most likely a lumpectomy). I have a very hard time asking but, I guess, that's part of this lesson too.
So, for now, Herschel's story is on the back burner. There may be nothing to tell for weeks but, rest assured, you'll be the first to know.
Till then, know that I'm thanking God for you and your prayerful support.
Love,
Darlene (and ugly Herschel)
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