My Personal Pity Party

I believe in the power of positive thinking. I know that surrounding myself with people who are supportive and care about me will help me heal. I choose to focus on what I know, rather than worry about all the possible bad things that might happen. I am strong, healthy and ready to do my best to heal. These are some of the messages of positive self-talk that I practice every day. Keeping a positive focus has served me well as I have embarked on this cancer journey.  Well, except for the day of my Pity Party.

The Pity Party happened just a couple of days after I first met my cancer surgeon, Dr. Dawson.  She scheduled an MRI to see if there were other potential sites with cancer in my lymph nodes or my other breast.  The only day that was available for the MRI that week, was the day I had signed up for a class I had been wanting to attend for months. Joe was working on our Gorge house, so I went to the appointment on my own.  I started the day feeling sad, lonely, and pretty sorry for myself.

The MRI itself was not bad at all.  I just had to lie face down in a tunnel without moving for 20 minutes. I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the machine wash over me.  It was like some weird electronic concert - do, do, do, do. Waw, waw, waw, waw. Nah, nah, nah, nah. Boo, boo, boo, boo.  It was actually pretty relaxing, in a claustrophobic, noisy tunnel kind of way.

The Pity Party started just after the MRI.  My appointment with my cancer surgeon was not for 2 hours.  Not enough time to go to the office, but too much time to sit and have coffee.  I had too much time, and too much to think about.  It was a cool day, but not raining, so I decided to take a long walk.  I thought it would distract me to walk around Capital Hill, but instead all I could think of was the MRI.

My doctor had warned us that the tracers for the MRI could "light up" with small spots of cancer everywhere. She insisted that it was not something to get worried about.  She was looking to see if my left breast had any suspicious tissue and whether there were cancer cells in any lymph nodes.  The MRI would not rule out the need to biopsy a sentinel node, but could give an early indication about potential cancer sites.

As I walked the streets of Capital Hill, fear quickly crept into my head.  I tried to notice the spring flowers, but all I could think of were the "lights of cancer" on my MRI.  Before I knew it, I was in tears. I was feeling very sorry for myself.  I was, sad, afraid, angry.. and actually a bit lost.  While walking in a fog of emotions, I had not paid attention to where I was going.  Being lost is one thing that makes me crazy with frustration, so now that emotion was added to the mix. I let the tears flow.  I sat down on a bench and sobbed for a while. It was my first real release of emotion since I heard the cancer word.

As much as a Pity Party can help release emotions, at the end of my little crying jag, I still had cancer and I still was lost.  I looked up, checked in with Siri as to my whereabouts, and headed back to the cancer center. I brought the dark clouds of fear and sadness with me to my meeting with Dr. Dawson and prepared myself for the worst. Dr. Dawson, however, was very cheerful.  She handed me my MRI results, looked me in the eye and said, "this is very good news, your MRI is clear". 

There were no signs of cancer in my left breast or in the lymph nodes, although she cautioned that we could not rule out node involvement until surgery.  I was speechless.  I also felt pretty stupid.  I had worked myself into a total Pity Party, for no reason.  All that fear, sadness, and negative energy,were just a waste of my time.  Even if the news had been bad, worrying for 2 hours and getting myself all worked up about it, would not have changed the results, either. As I left the cancer center, I now noticed the flowers, the birds and the beauty of a Seattle spring day. I am sure there will be plenty of opportunities ahead to feel sorry for myself and to be scared, but when I do I will remember the Pity Party for my MRI, where cancer didn't even show up.