Member-only story
When the Caregiver Gets Cancer
My preceding “chapter” (set in autumn 2017) ended like this:
Dave wanted to come with me to DHMC for the next exam; using a wheelchair, I got him to the radiography room and he waited. We got the news together: There’s a nodule in there, and a “needle biopsy” needs to happen next. So we can tell whether it’s breast cancer.
It seemed unreal. Dave was the one with cancer, not me. I assured him it was probably all a lot of fuss for nothing, the way it had been before. At least this time, Medicare and my “gap” health insurance plan together would cover most of the expenses. Just to be sure that we were only getting tests, and I wasn’t sick (right?), we bought extra almond croissants before driving north. It would be all right, I was sure. It had to be. Right??
One of the worst time distortions happens when you’re waiting for results from a vital medical test. For me, waiting for news of the needle biopsy for suspected breast cancer felt unreal. Of course it would come back negative, just like the review of imaging had, a few years earlier. So I didn’t worry a lot, and besides, I had so much work to do.
Dave always answered the phone. He loved chatting, and I didn’t. Answering the phone also meant he protected me from interruptions, and from marketing calls. If someone clearly selling something did ask to speak with me…
