On The Road Again

A few of you have gently raised questions about my temporary treatment lull. You're right about the seeming inactivity, no x-rays, needles, or scalpels for almost a month. While no one has actually said this, I think that your questions reflect an anxiety that the villainous cancer cells, those that escaped the surgeon's hand, will regroup and set up new encampments -- sort of like the Taliban. Similar to the fight in Afghanistan, I sense that you want my medical team to be victorious, and you also want assurances. You want to know that the evil marauders, who had controlled certain mammary regions, have been stomped out. For good.

I understand, and share, the sense of urgency, but this process has its own rhythm. Unlike other health problems, breast cancer treatment moves at a steady, but far from frenetic, pace. For example, on the morning of my surgery, one of the radiologists asked me how long ago my condition was discovered. I told him that I found the growth about 10 weeks earlier, and he said, "Oh, you didn't lose any time at all." Since I had been thinking that 10 weeks from discovery to surgery was a little sluggish, his comments were reassuring and made me feel as if I were the paradigm of efficiency.

Anyway, things are moving forward again. Tomorrow and the following day, I have appointments with two different medical oncologists. Interestingly, none of the doctors I wanted to see had any available time slots during the first half of December. I understand now that the calendar crunch may have been exacerbated by the 2007 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium, which began several days ago. This is an important annual conference for anyone working in the field.

I expect that between the oncologists and the holidays (did I just put those two words in same sentence), the next two weeks will be busy ones. So right now, while I still have a quiet moment, let me take the time to say thank you. Thanks so much to all of you. Your e-mails, telephone calls, thoughtful gifts, cards, flowers, prayers, comments on the blog, and overall heartfelt concerns have meant more than you know. While my natural temperament is to stay on the sunny side, confronting this diagnosis is still a great big deal, and it's best faced with a group of caring supporters. I don't think that a day has passed since this chapter began without one or two of you letting me know that you're there. Your kind words and best wishes have helped tremendously.

I send each of you my thanks, my wishes for a happy holiday, and my toast to your good health.