To Be or Not to Be

April 29, 2013 - Suspicion...

My mind has been clearer the last few days and my heart has been lighter since receiving and accepting an offer on my house on April 24th.  (Addendum:  That relief did not last long when I received a list of To Dos from the inspection.  Hopefully it does not hinder the sale of the home.  I am trying not to worry about that right now.)  Well, one less worry has allowed me to concentrate more on the direction of my life going forward as I anticipate my July 1st MTC date marking the beginning of a 23-month mission in Washington D.C.

Today I was reviewing the many uses of essential oils and formulating a daily regimen for the oils that I have purchased since being introduced to them.  I have come to love these oils.  Some do not smell the greatest, but I have seen positive results from the ones I have used to treat the symptoms of colds, nausea, headaches, anxiety, and sore, achy muscles. 

As I spent this morning reviewing the uses of my essential oils and how to apply them, a thought came to my mind to look on the internet for the answer to a little nagging question that has been in the back of my mind for a couple months since I noticed an irregularity in one breast that I kind of wondered about.  But wondering was soon pushed aside by the tasks of my transcription work, busy days and nights with Heidi and her boys, and thoughts of my mission.   It was apparent to some of my children (especially my daughters) that the worry about being able to sell my house and get things in order in time for my mission weighed heavily on my mind.  They often observed me when I was doing my best to enjoy their company, but I was actually far away in another place with my tumbling thoughts.  At last, knowing that I would be closing on the house on May 24th, I could now think of other things.  Things like what clothes to buy for my mission; do I keep my cellphone plan active; what company will I use for my car insurance in Maryland; when am I going to receive more information from the Mission Home; and when should I finally follow up on the recommendation to call the sister missionaries and get some questions answered?

Today, out of the blue came the thought once again, "look on the internet."  I typed in a brief description of the symptoms I had noticed.  One phrase stood out as though it was in boldface type—Paget's disease, a rare breast cancer occurring in only about 1-4% of all breast cancers.  A quick survey of several of the sites was enough to convince me that this was the most probable diagnosis of my symptoms.

A flurry of emotions passed through my mind in the space of a few seconds.  First and foremost was the realization that there would be no way for me to serve a mission now—not in two months.  Why couldn't I have discovered this sooner?  Why didn't I check out the symptoms earlier?  I really think that in His mercy, the Lord knew that I could not handle one more worry until others were resolved.  In an instant the petty annoyances of graying/thinning hair, teeth that are not as white or as straight as I would like, wrinkles that makeup cannot hide, and glasses that make me look too old suddenly paled in the presence of the realization that I may not be able to go on a mission after all.  After further reflection and on a more serious note came this thought after which I had to stop myself from further reflection and take action:  "Maybe my call to serve a mission was just a way to put my affairs in order for my family, and my time here is going to be shorter than I thought."  Well, worrying doesn't solve anything, but it sometimes motivates people to action.  I picked up my phone and called my doctor's office to set an appointment for a consultation and exam.  I explained that I wanted to have an appointment as soon as possible because I only have two months to resolve my health issues so I can have a clean bill of health to go on my mission as planned.  I was given an appointment for the next day at 3:20.

April 30, 2013 - Consultation…

My daughter drove me to my appointment, not so much that I felt I needed her, but that she felt the need to be with me so I wouldn't be alone with my thoughts.  Nonetheless, I was grateful for her companionship.  I arrived at 3:20 for what I thought would be a short visit.  The visit was very short, but the waiting was long—40 minutes in the waiting room and another 20 minutes in the examination room before the doctor came in.  We talked briefly.  I explained my condition and suspicions and stated that I would like a biopsy to know for certain if I had Paget's disease or a simple case of dermatitis.  He did a quick examination and told me "Well, if that's Paget's disease, I'm a monkey's uncle."  If I didn't already have a good feeling about this doctor, his sense of humor, and his compassionate manner, I might have taken offense at his words and the way he refuted "my diagnosis."  He did agree, however, that it is best to be sure.  Cancer is not something that should be taken lightly.  However, he said he would rather have me see a dermatologist for a more extensive examination and possible biopsy.  The clinic's patient advocate provided me with a list of providers in the area who are on my insurance plan.  My first choice is the dermatologist who treated my children over the years, but unfortunately he was booked until October.  That definitely wasn't going to work with my plan.  I made a call to the first person she recommended, a female dermatologist in Alpine, Utah.  I was disappointed that her first appointment was not until May 10th.  That didn't serve to expedite matters either.  I would lose a precious 10 days.  Then she said, "Wait, there is an 11:45 appointment on the 3rd, this Friday."  I said I would take it.

May 3, 2013 - Second Opinion…

I arrived for my appointment with the dermatologist a few minutes early so I could fill out the necessary paperwork for a new patient.  After another interminable wait (that is a cool way of saying it was seemingly endless), I was called back.  The nurse who helped me sat down with me in the examination room and began asking questions.  A darkened computer screen sat on the desk in front of her as she scribbled notes on a piece of paper on the clipboard with my check-in papers.  She explained that the computer was not working and she didn't know how to get it to work.  She struggled to remember all of the questions that she was supposed to ask me since she didn't have the computer to prompt her.  After a long pause while she tried to remember the term "melanoma", she said, "This is my first day.  Give me a break."  Not please give me a break, just "give me a break" as if I was heckling her or something.  I wasn't even being critical, just sitting patiently and trying to make her feel comfortable.  Ironic, it should have been the other way around when I am the one facing the possibility that I may be facing a life-changing condition?  I was relieved, however, to hear that this was not the dermatologist, who I was told had more than 25 years experience and was an excellent doctor.

After another "short" wait, the dermatologist entered the room.  I briefly explained why I was there.  She had me sit on the examination table and she began her assessment of my symptoms.  I really don't know which would have made me feel better, if she had laughed in my face and said something about being a monkey's uncle, or if she had told me that I was very astute in my assessment.  Nonetheless, since she was more than a little concerned, she too felt it would be best to obtain a biopsy.  In relatively few minutes, she did a punch biopsy and applied a dressing.  She told me that it would take about a week to get the pathology results, but if I don't hear from her in two weeks, give her a call.

The Wait...