CALM DOWN! I’m not talking about that “C” word. The C-word I’m referring to is wayyyyyyyy more offensive/obscene. In fact, this word has the power to divide life into the symbolic “before and after dimensions,” i.e. before kids/after kids, before marriage/after marriage, before social media/after lobotomy (I mean, social media), and so on.
Last week my brothers and sisters, experienced the power of that word firsthand. One of our own, my sister Kathy, let us know something was different. There were mammograms, ultrasounds, a biopsy and then an appointment. It was during this appointment she was given results. The good news is it’s early and highly treatable. The bad news is … the good news still sucks.
To keep everyone in the loop Kathy sent the report to me, my sisters Laura and Christy and Christy’s husband, Brian. It made sense that she would send it to Laura and Christy who are both nurses and Brian, a physician. I couldn’t understand why she sent it to me. Unless you count the 542 diseases I have according to the WebMD symptom checker, I really have no experience in reading medical reports. I read it anyway. I immediately called and told her to get to the hospital because it appears that she was already dead.
Soon she will have a plan of action. Laura and I will go to doctors’ appointments. Laura is going because she’s a nurse and can help interpret all the super scientificky things that will be thrown at her. I’m going because I watched nine seasons of ER-twice. It’s called balance. (Sidenote: I implore anyone going through medical procedures to bring an advocate with you. Preferably an advocate with experience in the medical field.)
Kathy is very upbeat and feels good about the approaching treatments. She told me her new doctor is one of the top breast specialists in Middle Tennessee. I told her to check her facts because I knew several guys in college who made the same claim. All liars.
Since there will be a surgery, Laura put her impeccable organization/nurturing skills to work and created a recovery suite fit for our sister queen when she returns from surgery minus two glands.
In the meantime, I put my impeccable creative skills to work and created slogans for a new line of T-shirts that Kathy can wear to show how she plans to tackle this thing. So please do not be offended if you see her wearing T-shirts that say,
“I wish it was you instead of me, too!”
“You’re right, you deserve this more than me.”
Seriously, this is all in good fun. We want what’s best for our sister. There’s not another one on the planet like her. So, if laughter happens to be the best medicine, her prognosis is excellent.
Telling Tales is written by Wilson County moms Angel Kane and Becky Andrews. This column is Becky’s.