This is a Doctor's Appointment After you are Diagnosed with Cancer

You actually have two doctor appointments and a lab today, but let's just talk about one. It is wearisome to talk about more than that.

This doctor is your endocrinologist. You found out about nine months ago that your thyroid was misbehaving. Added this to your list of shit wrong with you. At the time, you were hyperthyroid. This happens when your thyroid gland produces too much of the hormone thyroxine. It accelerates your metabolism, causing unintentional weight loss and a rapid or irregular heartbeat.

So, you were on meds for a while and then you had a procedure called a thyroid ablation. A radiation therapy in which radioactive iodine is administered to gradually shrink your thyroid, ultimately destroying the gland.

You hve to go in to see how all this was going.

Dr S is not your favorite doctor, although she is very good at what she does. She is no nonsense to an almost ridiculous degree. With most doctors, you kind of get a feeling if they like you or not, etc. With Dr. S, you feel as if she kind of dislikes most people but knows that she is a healer, so she finds a way to deal with it.

Her nurse is just the opposite. She has a southern accent that sounds like Dolly Parton is your nurse for the day. She addresses everyone as "sweet thang." Even you. An old lady. And the guy in the next cubicle, an old man.

The nurse looks nothing like Dolly, though. She is thin to the point of being scrawny with no discernible hips or breasts. She is built like a twelve year old boy and kind of looks like Laurie Metcalf. She weighs you, takes your temperature and blood pressure. You are used to this and think that you will have to get used to it all over again. During your bout with leukemia a year ago, this was done daily and you were so relieved when weeks went by when you didn't know your weight or temperature afterwards. Time to get back in that particular saddle again, you suppose.

Dr S is almost meticulously on time. You like this about her. A lot. Today is no exception and she comes in with your chart. Her face looks profoundly disappointed.

She says, "I see that you have been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. Well, that is unfortunate."

Indeedy. Yes, indeedy. But, why the hell is she looking at you as if you just hit her car? She is looking at you like....dumb ass. 

She sits down. Explains that you will have labs today that will determine if the thyroid ablation is successful. She says that it can go one of three ways.

1) The ablation was not a success and nothing has changed.
2) That the ablation was such a success that it has pretty much wiped out your thyroid gland and you are now hypothyroid as opposed to hyperthyroid.
3) You are right in the middle. Perfect. Nothing needs to be adjusted.

You tell her that, in your experience, you are practically NEVER in the good group. You are always in the troublesome one. It will either be one or two.

She shrugs. She stands and tells you that she will call you later in the day with the news. She wishes you a happy Christmas. You say, "Same to you," before you remember that she is Hindu. You tell her that you don't know much about Hinduism beyond the basics of the four Purusãrthas but that you really like the idea of karma. She smiles. Leaves the room. Before the door closes, she comes back in and bends at the waist in front of you, taking your hands in hers.

"I am so very sorry that you are experiencing this misfortune," she says. "I think that you are an exceptionally brave person."

She gets up and leaves for good before you can reply.

You are touched. That was a big deal coming from her. You stand, collect your things and go to the lab.

A few hours later, Dr. S will call you and tell you that yes, you were right. You are now hypothyroid. So, yes. For the rest of your life you will have to be on this thyroid medication to regulate your gland.

It figures. You sort of snort when you get the news. Nothing is ever easy, is it? Add another drug to the list.

You go home and when T comes home, you hug her extra tightly even though you are in a huge hurry. You have to rush her sister's birthday gift to FED EX to get it there by 4:30.

In the car, as you are driving home, you tell her about Dr. S and her sudden burst of emotion. You agree that this is pretty much tantamount to her doing a cartwheel.

You pull in the driveway and out of the blue, T says, "Do you believe in fate?"

Yes, you say.

"Well, the day I met you. It was fate," she says. "I was just minding my own business and then there you were and my first thought was, 'My God, THERE you are. I have been waiting for you for such a long time.'" 

She asks you what your first thought was when you saw her. You think. And then you say, "My God, that is actually a girl with a mullet."

You both laugh and then you stop and take her hand.

"I felt the same," you tell her. "I looked at you and something in me recognized you. And it was like I knew you would reach out your hand to me and I would go and never look back. Even if it cost me my family. I just knew you were my destiny and you were finally here." 

Neither one of you say anything for a while. The fae tree in the front yard suddenly comes to life with the Christmas lights that come on at twilight. You just sit and hold hands for a very long time.  

"We are two of the lucky ones," T says, at last. "I hope that Dr. S has met her destiny." 

You nod.

You say very quietly, "Me, too."