It’s feeling like a bit like this picture now:
There’s the initial diagnosis. It’s a massive tangle of threads. There are knots. The ends are hidden. When you pull on one string, it moves others. But eventually, you find one end and you start to pluck it out, working through the tough bits.
Friday, my debut novel was released. It was a crazy day checking in on social media between work and then the local surgeon’s appointment.
And what a sad appointment that was! She walked in, asked if I wanted a certain type of surgery and said no one in this area does it. It didn’t stop her from a full appointment, including a cop-a-feel…I mean examination. People feeling my boobs = things that are now my life. In the end, she said she’d refer me to UC San Francisco and Stanford. No big deal. Just four hours away. One way.
Yesterday, had a teleconference with Dr. VK. He was in surgical scrubs and my internet sucked, but his nurse should be calling me soon for the salpingo-oophorectomy. Say that three times. Fancy talk for laparoscopy removal of ovaries and fallopian tubes.
In case you are thinking, “Sarah…too much over-sharing!” Guess what? There are people who are scared because they’ve been diagnosed or have a loved one just dealing with the waterfall of this happening. I’m not going into the icky details. There are details. If you’re one of those and need details, drop me a line!
On the sunshine side of news, Stanford just called. I’m registered and waiting for a phone call to schedule a consultation. Lord willing, a teleconference. If not, road trip!