The Logorrheic

DISCLAIMER: I’m capable of better, but uninterested in edits and/or revision (or deletions) tonight.

In July 2006, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent surgery, followed by radiation treatment (during which she went to work every single day). Her prognosis was excellent and the likelihood of a recurrence seemed slim. Today she called to tell me she is having a third (third? Why a third??) mammogram on Friday for a lump in her breast, the status of which seems certainly to be a tumor.

It is more than an understatement to say that I love the Internet. Despite all the misinformation (and disinformation) out there, it is a most staggering resource. Unfortunately, there are times when I can’t find just what I want to find, and I find it inordinately frustrating. I’m spoiled by the fact that most often I can find out what I want to know in 30 seconds.

I just spent a good thirty minutes trying to find some very specific information about breast cancer. I want to attribute my failure to the limits of the Internet, but it’s more accurate to blame it on the limits of the human ability to know the future. :/ The truth is that what I want to know is simply not knowable right now.

You can probably guess all the nuances of what I wanted to know and the analyses of which scenarios, so I won’t go into those, but here are some of the Google searches I did:

• Breast cancer recurrence
• Breast cancer recurrence in other breast
• Breast cancer local vs. regional recurrence significance
• what does it mean to have a new tumor after breast cancer treatment

After clicking and reading several links, I finally stopped there. Clearly, the search I actually meant would not yield the pertinent and exact information I wanted:

Does my mom have breast cancer again, is it treatable, what will happen with her job, finances, etc., and after all the bullshit surgery (mastectomy this time) radiation and chemo, is my mom going to die from breast cancer after all? And how will I ever convey to my daughter the amazing Manya she had for such a brief time?

It actually makes me laugh when I read it that way, but it still scares the fuck out of me.

Cancer was quite the party crasher in my family in 2006. In January, my sister-in-law was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and an estimated 6 months to live. During the same week in July, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and Terry, my biological mother, was diagnosed with lung cancer and liver cancer. Without going into the long stories of each case, I can summarize the experiences in this way: Cancer sucks (which you already knew), and the toughest aspects of dealing with it – at least as a family member and not its direct victim – are the waiting and the uncertainty. Everything is based on statistics and generalities. There are assurances and well-reasoned predictions; there are, however, no guarantees.

I suppose this is no surprise to anyone, not even to me. But there was little I wanted more than a definitive timeline – a promise. Even when it came to the terminal diagnoses (of Terry and Patsy, my SIL), an advance certified date of death seemed it might be better than the limbo.

I suppose the good news is that my searches and blog tonight are simply an indulgence for the wee panicked part of me, rather than unreserved and whole-hearted surrender to the unthinking and panic. The greater part of me knows, “Let’s just wait and see what happens. You don’t have control anyway.” And control, of course, is what I’m truly seeking in information and in the guaranteed and the concrete.

I told my mother today, “It’s OK. It’s probably nothing. Really. We’ll just do one foot in front of the other, and then find out that it’s just benign, just like most of them are.” Even as I repeated myself to her, a part of me was wondering who I was trying to reassure. It was just so obvious.

But it’s probably nothing. Really.

P.S. Boy, I’m a wordy girl. J