September 21, 2019. A date I will likely never forget (even though I am trying!). It was a Saturday morning and I had just gotten the kids in the car to head to the gym when my phone rang. After months of questioning my personal health, I had undergone a biopsy on a lump in the side of my neck just days before, so I subconsciously took a glance at my phone… and it was the doctor’s office calling. On Saturday. Even before I picked up, I had a lump in my throat. But, this doctor had been so adamant that he didn’t think anything was wrong with me, so I said hello to hear him out (the good news that I had been overreacting and nothing was wrong).Â
Unfortunately, instead of saying I was a hypochondriac and that the biopsy was clean, he uttered the “C” word. Cancer. The lump in my throat became a pit in my stomach and I tried so hard not to break down as I was standing in the garage with the kids staring at me from their seats. The next little bit of what he said was a blur, his ‘bedside manner’ was less than appealing, but I remember him saying I am referring you to another doctor (excellent), that this was ‘good cancer’ (um, excuse me?), and that I should come back to see him if my symptoms (fatigue) did not improve after 6 months (WHAT?).Â
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