Cancer

Cancer. The word itself is so ugly, so repugnant. The evening of my surgery is a bit of a blur to me now. I went straight to bed when I got home and between fitful states of semi-sleep, I made an attempt to call some people to let them know the diagnosis. I also got online to begin researching any bit of information I could find about Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Initially, what I found was not very encouraging with statistical five year survival rates somewhere around 50/50.

The large dressing on my neck was uncomfortable but, thankfully, I was not in a tremendous amount of pain. In fact, I didn't even need so much as a tylanol much less the vicodin that was prescribed for me. Michelle was great attending to my needs and making sure I was comfortable.

The next day I woke up still a little groggy from the anasthesia. I did manage a client call in the morning and made it into the office that afternoon, not that I really did much. I had an appointment with Dr. Hermansen that afternoon to have the dressing removed and discuss the results.

I arrived with Michelle at the appt. at 5:30pm as scheduled. Dr. Hermansen wanted to see us last so we waited until about 6:00 before she saw us. First she removed the dressing and drainage tube and said that the incision looked fine otherwise. She also told us that she had the pathology results sent to the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology for review since they were so unusual. Apparently, the AFIP is the preiminent institution in the US for this type of work. I didn't quite understand why they chose to consult with the AFIP, though. At first, it seemed as though she thought there was a chance that the initial cancer diagnosis was not correct and I momentarily got my hopes up. However, she confirmed that there is not doubt that the cancer diagnosis was accurate. I guess there are some sub-classifications that the AFIP could help with. Also, she wasn't sure if what she removed was a lymph node or something called a bronchial cleft cyst since it was so badly damaged. She told me also that my cancer is very well differentiated. I don't know what that means but I guess it is better than the alternative. Well differentiated carcinomas tend to have a better overall prognosis than undifferentiated... so I've got that going for me, which is nice.

We talked a little about treatment options and Dr. Hermansen reiterated that she thought I had a pretty good chance of beating this thing given my age, general health, etc.... I have to stay positive, she said. I asked her about consulting an oncologist and, surprisingly, she said that it's probably a little premature to do that. Primary treatment for this disease is surgery and radiation and the surgery is done by her (actually, one of her partners whom I would meet later). She did welcome a second opinion, however, if I felt compelled to consult an oncologist.

As we left the appointment, I didn't quite know how to feel. I guess I wanted to hear something more assertive from her to make me believe that she believed I would be cured. Doctors are notoriously non-commital though so maybe I'm expecting too much. I did put on a good face and saw this moment as the beginning of my fight. From hear on out, no more doubts and no more tears. It's time to get my gameface on.

The office was completely empty as Dr. Hermansen escorted us out. I knew she stayed well beyond her normal office hours for my benefit and I appreciated it.