When your midwife calls you on her day off and then doesn't start out immediately saying "Good news!", you know that your life as you knew it, is over. Amy called me this afternoon while I was alone with two hungry toddlers at snacktime. Not an ideal time to be trying to listen carefully to the words coming at you over the phone. Honestly the only thing I heard was
"The mass may indicate cancer."
(even though I know she didn't say it actually was cancer...)
Once I got the girls set up with a snack on the floor, I was able to parse out this much:
The gynecologist at Swedish Hospital read over the radiologist's notes and they concurred that I needed a referral to Northwestern to meet with a gynecological oncologist. Amy, my midwife, tried to set up an appointment today but was told she would have to call back on Monday to set it up. She is trying to get me over there ASAP. I will meet with him and they will run the same tests I just had done yesterday as well as a biopsy. She said that they are recommending the complete removal of the mass for the biopsy instead of just a piece of it. I will wait to see what the oncologist has to say before proceeding with surgery though.
From there they will decide if I need to stay with the gyno team or be moved to another oncology specialist. The thing is, nobody knows what it is. It's not in my ovaries, cervix, or uterus. It doesn't appear to be the Bartholin gland. It originates in my pelvis.
I'm choosing to focus on the fact that they have no idea whether or not it is cancer. If it is, then we will deal with it and get rid of it. There is no way I am leaving my two girls motherless. It just cannot happen. They need me just as much as I need them. As my friend Kelly M. said when I called her today: "Repeat the above as necessary."