When the alarm finally trilled, D-L and I cuddled a bit, only briefly, as we needed to be on the road to avoid the downtown traffic.
That was 6 am. Now it’s not quite 9 and I’m sitting at a table in the HUG hospital cafeteria in Geneva.
Donna-Lane is one floor up in the nuclear medicine wing. She’s probably lying as still as she reasonably can, waiting for the radioactive dye to flow into the “higher-energy” parts of her body as the technicians prepare to slide her through the PET scanner. Positron Emission Tomography.
This is the fourth time she's been stuck with needles in the past three weeks: blood (not done well), biopsy, MRI, PET ...
Hopefully, those higher-energy cells won’t include any more cancer than the two small clusters discovered in her breast a couple of weeks ago. Last Monday in Perpignan - a place I have come to dislike for several reasons - we learned the under-10mm clusters were malignant. D-L had been sure they would be, based on her history.
If there’s no additional cancer, she probably won’t need chemo, which is the treatment she most wishes to avoid. Chemo is sickening and tiring and a drawn-out process every three weeks for four months.
This afternoon, we’ll meet with her oncologist to discuss what the scans show … or, hopefully, don’t.
She will have surgery for sure, a mastectomy next Friday. Best case scenario, that's the end of it; she heals and we get back to whatever 'normal' is supposed to be. I don't contemplate other scenarios, at least not out loud.
Those of you who know her know what an incredible warm, giving, talented human being Donna-Lane is.
To know a little more about her, I recommend you check out her blogs.
This one, The B(r)east is Yet To Come, chronicles her first cancer experience ... and has now been resumed:
The ExPat Writer offers daily observations on life: