The details...it's cancer

I don't quite know why my mind keeps going back to this, but I keep remembering how bad I felt for the doctor who told me it was cancer. She was one of the more junior surgeons. She had taken a look at my scar, talked to me about the droop of my lip, and then she brought up the pathology report on the computer. She left the room for what seemed ages to "just speak to the senior surgeon". Which had happened at several previous appointments, so no alarm bells were ringing yet! Steve and I sat there waiting, laughing about something. I can't even remember what. Knowing us, it was no doubt something inane and completely silly! Both doctors came back and she sat back down in front of the computer and just said, "It's not good. It's cancer." Oh my goodness, even just typing that makes me feel sick all over again. That rush of adrenalin. That numb sensation that just washed over me. The thought that I surely just misheard her. And then, crazily, how horrible it must be to have to tell someone that. Like it wasn't even me who was being told!

The senior surgeon went on to tell me that my case would be sent to the specialists at the Royal Adelaide Hospital where it would be reviewed at a Multi-Disciplinary meeting. He said there may be more surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy or a combination of any of those. He said they don't often come across cancer of the salivary gland so he couldn't tell me more than that.

Steve and I walked out in a fog of emotion and just sat in the car for ages. We drove home in silence. Telling Ryan and Matt was worse than being told it was cancer in the first place. We all sat on the couch hugging and crying. I'm really not sure how long I sat there with my boys like that. I don't think I can ever recall a time when I've experienced such intense emotional pain. I've been through some really hard and challenging times in my life, but this, this was excruciating.

I have to remain strong. Strong for Steve. Strong for my boys.