Cancer is a Pig

Today was another wonderful day of visiting doctors and talking to them on the phone. First thing in the morning Al and I met with the radiation oncologist. I like the oncologist. He is funny, knowledgeable and as far as I can tell he is very good. I like his enough to make him my adored radiation oncologist. (I'm not going to tell him that after a treatment or two, when I am sick of the process, he may well become my stupid yet adored radiation oncologist.)

We talked about mammosite radiation (radiation targeted directly to the tumor site). It's benefits are fewer side effects and a much shorter course of treatment. I'm all for it. I do need a good surgical outcome -- clean tumor margins and clear lymph nodes. I haven't a clue what the alternate types of radiation are and I sure hope I never find out.

He also worked on setting up the start date for radiation if all goes well. What was interesting was the scheduler put him on hold. I truly can't imagine an analyst at my old job putting an executive on hold and surviving unscathed.

In the afternoon I had my pre-op physical. It went well. I am a healthy girl. Except for cancer.

Early evening the surgeon called with the results of the 2nd biopsy. The smaller lump is also cancer. I hate cancer. Cancer is a pig. It is a stupid pig, an ugly pig, a no good, worthless, pig shaped pig. It is also a worthless, scum sucking dog. You all get the picture.

The fact that it's cancer doesn't change much. He can still do a lumpectomy (he did say I might not be evenly matched after surgery). Cancer is still a pig and we still hate cancer.

The surgeon is also adored, except for the fact that he does not want hand knit socks. What is the matter with him. It is wrong not to want hand knit socks. I even think you can be arrested for not wanting hand knit socks. Even with this major character flaw I still adore him.