A Phrase I Never Expected to Use

This morning, I met with my surgical oncologist.  My surgical oncologist.  How peculiar.  Three weeks ago, he was just a cancer surgeon:  now he's mine.  I'll call him "The Dutchman".

I waited for him in a functional windowless room, in a gown that must have been a refugee from the paediatric ward.  (J-Lo's plunging green Armani had nothing on this racy little number!)  The man is less than punctual.  My appointment was at 9:30;  he showed at 9:55 -- and left at 10:00.  Bang zoom.

My mammograms show him cells highly suspicious of breast cancer (probably DCIS –  http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/types/dcis/), and he wants to do a further biopsy, in order to more precisely design the surgical approach he’ll use.  So, not straight to excision as I'd hoped.

Every Thursday, the ‘tumor board’ meets to discuss cases for the week.  My case will be on The Dutchman's list for presentation next week (today being Thursday, I’ve missed this week’s cutoff).  Apparently, cases that go to the tumor board are often fast-tracked to surgery.  I suppose I could be concerned about his desire for speed, but I've chosen to be delighted about it.  As my screening mammogram was done at the end of August, I'm good with speed where diagnosis and treatment is concerned.

I have a follow-up appointment with The Dutchman on December 10 (damn, I’ll have to miss the Global Credit town hall!) at which time, he’ll schedule the biopsy -- and maybe surgery, too -- and I'll sign OR paperwork.

So, though I was prepared for more, I came away with no real news to report.  Except that I’ve had a man look at my breasts for the first time in weeks.  Ya gotta take the small victories where you find 'em.