Pipe*

I'm quickly learning that every test in cancerland takes 24-48 hours to yield results. That doesn't include weekends, though. So, if you get a test on a Friday, you should not entertain any delusions about getting answers within 24-48 hours. You've got to sweat it out doubletime. So, I guess the logic behind closing all labs down on the weekends is that cancer doesn't spread on Saturdays and Sundays. After dividing and multiplying all week long, the cancer rests on the 6th and 7th days. And on holidays too apparently.

I'm impatient by nature and my anticipation is only exacerbated by the fact that there are life or death decisions hanging in the balance. This is not like waiting for a check to clear! Business days are irrelevant to the cancer patient who wants to know what she's dealing with.

That said, we got more bad news today. Our prayers were not answered on lymph nodes or hormone receptor status. In fact, we got a few extra surprises that we didn't want.

Verdict: The MRI revealed a 10-centimeter mass chock full of blood vessels that are surrounding, coddling and feeding this MF 1.7 cm tumor. (Picture a big mama with a million nipples feeding this odious thing) The MRI also showed "significant lymph node involvement" so I guess that one negative node was nothing to hang our hats on. Also, the tumor is hormone receptor negative, which means we can kiss that avenue of treatment goodbye. I will likely be kissing Lefty goodbye at some point, but at this point, I'm almost eager to do so.

According to the docs, I have HER2+ breast cancer which is the most aggressive kind you can get. Just a few years ago, HER2 was a death sentence but today -- thankfully -- they have a drug called Herceptin that has been very effective and gives HER2-ers the same shot as people with normal breast cancer. Still, because of the aggressive nature of the cancer, I will likely have to have chemo before and after surgery.

Aside: I've decided it's time to frontload the good times. Let's have some fun before I lose my hair and eyebrows and have to crayon on some Cholas.

Next steps: I have my abdominal, pelvic and chest scans tomorrow and a bone scan on Friday. I had to practically threaten a terrorist attack to get these appointments. After dropping bomb after bad-news bomb on me, the doc (not my doc) proceeded to tell me that my oncologist was out sick until Monday (apparently cancer cells stop spreading when your oncologist is out sick too) and I should follow up with her to schedule my scans, which at this point are booking out until early February.

My response to this was something like: no fucking fuckety fuck fuck fuck way, motherfucker.

Lesson learned: It never hurts to throw a rabid, profanity-laced tirade about standards of healthcare. Moments later, appointments magically opened up for tomorrow and Friday. I have a feeling there may be a police escort when I arrive, however.

Still, all this anger is NOT good for the tumor. That's my going to be my new mantra and I think it's going to come in handy. If someone is bothering me: "Please walk away, your bad energy is not good for the tumor." "Please piss off, your sourpuss is not good for the tumor."

Ugh. I've unraveled. I started writing this blog earlier about the positive forces in my life and the serendipitous ones that have cropped up - at the perfect time -- along the way. This morning, I posted my Facebook status as "up for the fight." This was before I got the news. The news literally brought me to my knees and rattled my faith today. So, tonight I'll knock myself out (Lost will be TiVoed) and wake up with a better attitude, a fighting attitude again tomorrow.

Aside: I still can't reconcile how I can be walking around, feeling as fantastic as I do, and be as sick as they tell me I am!

Call for prayers: Please pray this MF hasn't spread too much, especially to my organs. We're overdue for some good news. Throw us a bone!

*James came up with the title for this post. It says it all.