On Wednesday, I went to my 1st ever appointment with an oncologist after a night of restless sleep. I probably dreamt of every possible scenario. It was as if my subconscious was preparing me to deal with whatever was about to be thrown at me.
I Don't Belong Here
My husband, Alexandre, and I got to the Laval Integrated Cancer Center at 8am.
I went to the reception and didn't exactly know how to introduce myself. How does one say...
"Oh hello there, so I think I have cancer, sign me up for whatever I'm supposed be doing here please!"
I'm pretty sure they see that awkward, confused, and stressed look on all of their first-timers' masked faces. I was quickly given a hospital card and told to go get a few blood tests across the waiting room area, and then to wait to be called for my 9:20 am appointment with my oncologist.
The blood test was a breeze, but the 1-hour wait right after was the absolute worst moment I have experienced yet. Yes, it felt even worse than the moment my family doctor showed me the MRI results last week!
Imagine a waiting room, packed with cancer patients that are at very different points in their treatment journey, and now imagine that the average age of the room is around 85 years worth of all kids of life experiences.
Let's just say the conversations were not the most positive, and I made the mistake of not bringing headphones. I was hearing all kinds of things. It was a little too much and hard to ignore or block out.
Have you ever had a strong sense of belonging to a team or a group of friends? Well, what would you call the extreme opposite of that? The best way to put it into words would be as if you can hear your soul screaming at the top of it's lungs:
I DON'T BELONG HERE! RUN! GET OUT, NOW!
It was strange and surreal, and the message this moment was sending me was complex and full of mixed emotions. It was reinforcing the idea that I will easily beat this because I clearly don't "fit in", while also making me angry wondering, "well then, why the heck am I here if I don't belong here?"
Looking back at that moment as I am writing this, it's easier to see that no one belongs at a Cancer Center. No one signs up for this. I don't belong here but it is where I need to be so that we can get this thing, that I accidentally grew, out of me!
I can see now that all of us in that room did have at least one thing in common, and that is:
The hope to never come back, one day!
Meeting My Co-Commander
I don't think I have ever been happier to leave a waiting room, go to an exam room, and get into a medical gown!
After a little more waiting and unnecessary mental scenario-mapping, all while sporting one of the most vulnerability-inducing garments ever invented by human beings in history, I finally got to meet my Co-Commander.
You have to remember that I had been imagining all kinds of possibilities the night before, down to what the oncologist would be like, as a person. All I knew was that it was a woman.
Will she be nice?
Will she respect my wishes?
Will she have a "higher-than-though" attitude?
Will she acknowledge my intellect and knowledge on the subject from my self-awarded Dr. Google, Ph.D?
Who is this person that I have never met before, and yet has so much power over the rest of my life?
It was Dr. Mélanie Arbour-Levert, and she was the oncologist of my dreams, literally. She was kind, attentive, respectful, patient, caring, and truly impressive. We clicked immediately.
The meeting started with us jokingly greeting each other. She introduced herself with a warm smile, and I said: "I'm not sure I can say it's nice to meet you, but given the circumstances, I am definitely grateful to meet you!"
We all cracked up and it was smooth sailing from there.
The Hypothesis
After a series of general questions and a full gynaecological exam, we started discussing about what she is able to deduce from the imaging.
The mass is definitely suspicious in nature and right of the bat, the strategy is to get this sucker out of me asap! However, the only way to truly confirm a cancer diagnosis is a biopsy. Only then, can a full treatment plan be laid out based on exactly what type of cells are discovered, if it is cancerous.
Wait, she said IF. That's right! There is still a possibility of an IF.
Here's the deal. Her preliminary hypothesis is that this mass is perhaps not cancerous yet, and is a borderline ovarian tumor. Borderline tumours usually affect women aged between 20 and 40. The odds of ovarian tumors being borderline are 15%, which is why she repeatedly emphasized that it's just a hypothesis, and that it will need to be confirmed via biopsy.
Let's just pause here for a second, because hi, I'm 36 and I'm that weirdo in life that is just the oddball who doesn't like respecting statistics.
I may be naïve, but I just call that hope! No one so far had mentioned this possibility. Not even my new best friend, ChatGPT! We've gotten really close over the last days lol.
To hear it might not be cancerous from an oncologist's mouth, who has actually seen and treated very similar cases to mine, is definitely very positive! I'm going to hang on to that hope and call on Allah, as well as all of the world religions' Gods, Supreme Beings, Spirits, Angels, Aliens, basically whoever is listening to make this be true.
The Battle Plan
Okay, so wow, this next part is absolutely fascinating to me and my nerd brain. Seriously, I am amazed at how far medicine has come!
Here's the Play by Play.
Week of April 10th: Once all of the easter egg hunts will be completed, I will go in for a few more blood tests and a CT scan that includes my abdomen, since the MRI from last
week was focused on my pelvis.
Week of April 17th: Debulking and saline cleanse via open surgery. The mission is to remove the mass, and any other suspicious material or structures that should not be there. They will also look at nearby organs to ensure there is nothing else hiding in there.
Now, here comes the fascinating part. While I'm on the operating table, as soon as the doctor will remove the mass, it will go directly to the lab for a"flash analysis". The goal is to check the cells under a microscope to confirm whether this unwanted thing that I accidentally grew is borderline or cancerous.
Based on the results, the doctor will perform the remainder of the surgery as per the options we discussed before hand. We've already co-created a list of IFTTT (if this, then, that) scenarios to decide exactly what can stay vs. what needs to go without question.
Now, that is impressive. I had no idea that we could get on-the-spot lab results during a surgery. I'm genuinely impressed! I am so impressed that I asked my doctor if she could please take a picture of the mass. I just need to see what was silently growing inside of my body without paying any rent, and also as proof that it's out for real! Hey, I warned you that I was a weirdo lol!
If not cancerous, only damaged goods need to be removed, and there may not even be a need for chemotherapy. It might just consist of a few checkups to ensure that my remaining parts aren't freaking out and trying to grow their own teddy bears to cope with the loss of their buddy, i.e. the left ovary.
If cancerous, then most of my equipment will be decommissioned, but hopefully we can keep a little to make sure I don't hit menopause like a brick wall at the age of 36! And of course, a full-on biopsy will be done to determine the best cancer treatment.
At the end of the appointment, as I was leaving the exam room, I looked at Dr. Mélanie Arbour-Levert, and said:
"I take back what I said an hour ago, it's truly a pleasure to have met you today. Thank you for doing the work you do!"
I will overcome this!Â
You know what's crazy? The cancer scenario doesn't even scare me. Because they will have removed the main culprit, I see chemotherapy as the means to ensure that if any microscopic structure was missed, it won't stand a chance to invade anything.
Stay tuned for updates and send me good vibes during the week of April 17th!
Take care and do me a favor, please. After reading this, take 5 minutes to sit in silence, close your eyes, and just listen to, and admire the amazing body you inhabit.
Love it, respect it and just listen to it.
Alvina,
The OC Warrior Queen
