Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I swallowed.
“I agree with doing the radical mastectomy,” I started. “But this could happen again, right? In the other breast?”
“Yes. Even if we do the full mastectomy on the first breast, there is a possibility that it’ll recur in the other breast,” he agreed. “But after we do the surgery and the chemo treatments, we’ll keep an eye on it quite closely for the first year. After that, we’ll monitor you with bi-yearly mammograms to keep an eye out for any changes, and I have hope that should it recur, we’ll catch it early so it won’t get to this stage again.”
I didn’t like that answer.
“Why not do both at the same time?”
Dr. Todd nodded his head. “Considering your history, this is an aggressive preventative course of action. Many patients in your shoes opt to go this route. Only you can make this call, though.” He stood up and walked around the desk, leaning against it and crossing his feet in order to be closer to me. “There are other types of surgeries we can do where we leave the skin and the nipple in place, that way, later on when you have reconstructive surgery, it’ll be more natural looking.”
I grimaced.
I hadn’t much thought about any of this.
“Is that more of a risk?”
“Anything is a risk.” He hesitated. “But, there’s less of a chance without the breast tissue there.”
I let my eyes drift away from his, and come to a halt as I gazed out the window. The traffic was starting to get congested as the five o’clock hour hit.
People were heading home. Some to their families. Others to an empty home. Like me.
“What do we do first?” I asked. “When will this happen?”
He re-crossed his legs, this time with the opposite foot on top.
“We do it now. Your mammogram is recent enough to give us proper indication on where the cancerous tumor is,” he said. “I’d want to do this soon. Maybe the beginning of next week so that it doesn’t have a chance to grow or spread. Given your history with cancer, I really don’t want to wait. On Friday, I’ll send you to the hospital to have your blood drawn. If all comes back well with that, we’ll schedule the surgery for Monday. Okay?”
I nodded my agreement.
Just the thought of doing this all alone again really fucking sucked.
“I need a doctor’s note,” I murmured. “I’ve missed a week of work, and I’m assuming I’ll miss much more than that.”
Dr. Todd didn’t move.
“It’s going to be all right, Cobie.”
I just didn’t see that right now, but maybe once it was all done and over, I would.
***
Four days later
“This is just a liability form.” The registration clerk flipped to the next page.
Over the last four days, I’d filled out a total of eight million, seven hundred, and sixty-nine forms.
All of them were necessary.
After revamping my Last Will & Testament, taking Drake Garwood out of my will, creating a Living Will and finally changing over my life insurance beneficiary, this was nothing.
If I never saw a ‘trust fund’ or notarized document saying who I wanted my money to go to in the event of my death again, it’d be too soon.
I signed my name on the line where the clerk had indicated.
“This one is just in case you perish during the surgery. Your family won’t be able to sue in your stead.”
I almost laughed at that one.
“Okay,” I muttered, signing that one without even looking at it.
“This one is in the event that we run into complications. You’ll need to name the person who you’d like to make decisions for you in the event…”
I pulled out a copy of my Living Will.
“This will give you everything you need to know in the event of my incapacity,” I said. “This also has a DNR—do not resuscitate—order attached to it should I become medically incapacitated, unless, of course, my medical power of attorney deems it necessary.”
I thought long and hard about who to name as my medical power of attorney. It wasn’t an easy decision.
Other than my co-workers, who, although bummed to hear that I had cancer and would be off for the foreseeable future, were not people I’d choose to have medical power of attorney over my life.
Then again, there was literally no one left.
With me being a homebody, there were only about five people in the world that I knew wouldn’t freak out about being handed, essentially my life, on a silver platter. All five of them were people I’d known for about four days. And of the five, only one of them had been on my mind constantly over the last four days.
Dante.
Was this a weird request to ask of a man whom I’d only known for a few days? Yes. Did I have anybody else that I could ask? No.