So… I know Kirsten's mother had ovarian cancer, not breast, I was just comparing the fact that they both had cancer… Which is why I linked the Nana in as well… Hope that explains it a bit better.
"The biopsy returned results that I was hoping we wouldn't see." Kirsten was looking at the doctor as he spoke, resisting the urge to look away, stemming the tears that were threatening. When she first found the lump, she'd been in the shower. It was a fair size; not large enough to be able to see, but big enough that she'd thought she'd have felt it before now. Or that Sandy would have. She'd probed at it with her fingers, feeling a dull ache every time she touched it. She'd remembered her mother, towards the end, lying in her bed at home, her eyes sunken, skin waxy. With a sudden gasp, Kirsten had needed to slide to the floor, bow her head under the torrential shower downpour. She didn't want this. She didn't need a life sentence handed to her, didn't need drugs and chemo and everyone's pity. She didn't need the last year, hellish and hard as it was, to have been in vain. Her mother had been a drinker, and Kirsten had succeeded to pick up that bad habit, as well as drop it. Her mother had died of cancer, and Kirsten had started praying then that she wouldn't follow that family history as accurately.
"What is it?" Kirsten asked him, feeling grateful that he was so businesslike. If he'd looked at her with sympathy, handed her a box of tissues or come around to touch her with a comforting arm, like Sandy might, Kristen knew she'd lose the calm façade she was so far presenting.
"A malignant growth. We need you back in here to get the rest, as well as to check your lymph nodes, in case it's spread." Kirsten knew what was coming, had been to endless appointments with her mother, but it was still a shock for those words to be addressed to her personally.
"When?" Kirsten had her arms folded, as if to ward off the bad news, insulate it from herself. She knew it was stupid, knew it was she who was hibernating the cancer deep within her, even more so with folded arms.
"As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you can. I've already called the private hospital. We can get you in by nine, have the procedure over by twelve, if all goes well. We'll know more about chemo and radiotherapy options after then. I advise strongly about getting this done as soon as possible." Kirsten smiled bleakly, felt herself nod. She knew what the doctor was saying; the sooner, the better. And whenever they wanted you in there straight away, you knew it was bad.
"Great. If you can get yourself to admissions by seven thirty, we can have you prepped and introduced to the surgical team before we put you under. No food after six thirty tonight, no liquids after midnight. Fill in these forms and bring them with you…" The doctor handed her an envelope, thick with questions that she knew would be about lifestyle, diet, genetic predisposition to something like this.
"Mrs Cohen, we have one of the finest medical institutions. We're going to do everything we can." As the doctor stood, so did Kirsten, albeit on shakier legs. She nodded at him as she left, knowing that he hadn't said she'd come through this. Hadn't said she'd be fine.
Outside the doctor's office, Kirsten waited a moment, looked at the time. Sandy would be on lunch. She knew he had been on tenterhooks as much as she had this morning. Knew he'd wanted to come along with her but she, knowing she couldn't hold it together if he was there and it was news like she'd heard, had told him she'd be fine, and that she'd call him. Kirsten debated with herself. She needed to tell someone, but at the same time, leaving the cold, cruel fact unspoken might be able to delay it becoming a reality. She could have a coffee, fill out the forms in an impersonal café so that a place at her kitchen table wouldn't have to remind her of the day she was told she had cancer. Tucking the file under her arm, Kirsten walked the short distance across the hospital lawn to the row of elitist cafés smattered amongst florist shops. Choosing the nearest one, Kirsten ordered a cappuccino and sank gratefully onto a chair at the only unoccupied table. She checked her watch, knowing Sandy would be back at work; probably unable to concentrate. She felt selfish, waiting to tell him. She felt sick, having to give him this kind of news. Sighing, ignoring the growing squirm in her stomach from the reality of it starting to sink in, Kirsten found a pen after several minutes of serious ruffling through her handbag and turned to the first page of the questionnaire.
After an hour, three coffees and several bouts of willing herself not to burst into tears, Kirsten shut the file. She leant back in the chair and stretched, feeling the stitches from the biopsy pulling slightly. They'd been in for a little under a week; she'd had to switch side of the bed with Sandy so she could lie with her back spooned to his stomach without lying on the stitches, fingers intertwining. Kirsten heard her phone ringing and pulled it out of her bag quickly, nodding apology to the few people who remained scattered amongst tables whose tops were being cleared for the round of late afternoon visitors. She looked at her caller ID; was surprised to see Seth calling her. She'd expected Sandy to have been calling.
"Hi, honey." Kirsten grabbed her bag and file, and let herself out into the mid afternoon sunshine. It felt like warm honey on her skin, and she could feel the heat slipping into her bones.
"Hey, Mom. How's things?" Kirsten bit her lip, willed her voice steady. She didn't want to tell Seth and Ryan. Not over the phone. Not without Sandy to hold her up.
"You know, same as usual." She knew she didn't sound her usual self, but was hoping Seth would be too wrapped up in his own world to notice. He did as she'd wanted, and continued the conversation without a hitch.
"Well, I've got a study week coming up, and I thought I'd come home for a few days."
"Do you want us to send you some plane tickets?" Kirsten dropped her bag on the bonnet of the car and started looking for her keys. She'd chosen her black bag today, and she'd forgotten how big it was. It was like the black hole of Calcutta for anything she might need. Everything she didn't was, as luck goes, right on top. She found a watch she hadn't seen since last spring, and laid it on the bonnet.
"Sure. Can you book them from Monday to Thursday in two weeks?" Kirsten calculated in her head. She'd have been out of hospital for a week by then, depending on how the operation went. She'd know then, too, about what kind of follow up treatment she'd need.
"Mhm, I'll email you tonight." Kirsten finally found her keys, and bleeped the car open.
"Thanks, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me. Gotta go." Kirsten flipped her phone shut and threw it into her bag. She gathered watch, bag and files and made herself comfortable in the car before leaning her head against the steering wheel. She could feel the dull throb at the back of her skull that had accompanied her on and off since months before she'd found the lump. She'd unsuccessfully ignored it for weeks, taking handfuls of Panadol. Now, it seemed, there was a reason her body was letting her know something was wrong. Kirsten allowed herself another moment of dwelling on the pain, the feeling of her body being eaten from the inside, before she checked the time. Sandy would be well and truly finished lunch, but she needed him. It was becoming more real than she could deal with, and she just wanted to tell someone, hoping that some solace could be found in the sharing.
Revel in the angst, guys! Reviews loved.