Read Storm in a B Cup - A Breast Cancer Tale for Free Online Page A

positive, must be an incredulous look on my face. In
my lap Brendan’s hand is giving mine another squeeze. I breathe.
    “You asked
to see me?   About the results of my
tests?”
    Dr. Jackson
pulls up my file. She clicks a few things, opens them up and scans.   “Gosh, it’s been a busy morning,” she
says, by way of conversation.
    Like I care.
    She swivels
on her chair. “So,” she says again. For a woman of her intelligence you’d think
she’d be able to come up with another way to begin a sentence. “The ultrasound
shows the possibility of a tumour but we’ll book you in for a biopsy to confirm
it.”
    What? Has
she been self-medicating?
    “I’ve
already had a biopsy. I had it last week. The doctor didn’t give me enough anaesthetic
and I could feel every minute of it.” I burst into tears, unsure if it’s the
painfulness of the memory or because the doctor clearly has no idea what’s
going on.
    She clicks
another file. Her face is somewhat contrite.
    “Oh.” She
leans closer to the computer, studying the report she’s found. She straightens
and is silent for a second.
    “So the
tests confirm Breast Cancer. I’m really sorry.” She stares at me like she’s
waiting for a reaction but I think I’m out of reactions. I’ve used them up in
the past week.
    In my lap, I
feel Brendan’s hand, against mine. I know he’s giving it a sympathetic squeeze
but I don’t feel a thing. It’s like my body is stuck inside a glass bubble and
the world is on the outside.
    “The tumour
is invasive but it’s in the early stages so that’s good,” the doctor continues.
    In my mind
I’m thinking I should be crying, isn’t that what people do when they get bad
news? Shouldn’t I feel something ? But
I don’t. It’s like I left my feelings in the waiting room. Instead, I do what I
always do. I go full steam ahead into organisational mode.
    “So what
happens now?”
    “I’ll refer
you to a breast surgeon. Do you have any preferences?”
    “Sorry, I
left the list of cancer professionals I carry, in case of emergency, at home.”
    She frowns
at me. Maybe sarcasm isn’t her thing.
    I try the
blunt approach. “I don’t have a preference. I’ve never had cancer before. I
want the best. I have private health insurance.”
    “Splendid. I’ll
refer you to Dr. Downer then. She’s highly regarded. She can discuss your
options with you.”
    I look at
her. It’s like I’m underwater and though I know I should understand, I have no
idea what she’s talking about because the words are swirling around in front of
me.
    “Options?
But it’s not bad. You said ‘early stages’, didn’t you?”
    “I did. But
the breast surgeon will discuss that with you.”
    “And when
will that be?”
    “When you
make the appointment.”
    If she’s
deliberately being obtuse and trying to rile me up, it’s working. All of a
sudden, I feel quite tingly round the tear duct area. I look to Brendan, who is
supposed to be supporting me, but he looks more stunned than I feel. Seriously,
what’s the use of having him around if he’s not going to join the conversation?
He’d better be taking mental notes, because I have no idea what’s going on.
    At last, the
doctor does something sensible. Her face softens and she begins to see that
this is not an everyday occurrence. It’s not like I’m pregnant or anything. I’m
not in shock for a good reason.
    “Would you
like me to ring through for you? Tee up an appointment?”
    I nod. “Please.”
    And so it’s
set.
    *****

 
    On the way
home — I can’t face the shop now — Brendan is very quiet. His
normally olive skin has taken on an ashen sort of pallor and he’s gripping the
steering wheel like he’s frightened it might detach itself from the car and
roll off down the street. Then, he does something completely uncharacteristic. He
pulls into Red Rooster and turns off the car. Surely he’s not thinking about
chicken burgers at a time like this?
    “I’m
starving. Do