Meeting the Woman Who Will Cut Off My Boobs

Finally, the day that I meet my surgeon is here. I waited patiently for a week with cancer in my boob for this meeting. For a plan. For some action. The surgeon, Dr Garrett, is a confident, gregarious, and a bit quirky woman with a southern accent. Within minutes she had told us of her mother coming out as a lesbian late in life, as well as her disdain for our President. My kinda gal. She looked me in the eye and said "I can cure YOU, I can't do much about him. But I can cure you".  All I needed to hear. I'm all in. Let's go. 

The doctor proceeded to tell us about surgical options and give us tons of reading materials: lumpectomy, mastectomy, reconstruction, blah, blah, blah. All too much right now. My heads is still spinning from “you have cancer” thing.

A bit of god news: A quick but thorough sonogram of my lymph nodes is negative (good). 

Honestly if Liz wasn't in these meetings I wouldn't remember half the information flying at us. Blessfully, Liz is detailed, organized and determined to get answers and move this ball forward. I couldn't ask for a better advocate. I only hope as we quickly drop into the abyss of chemo treatments she's held up and held together by our friends and our family. She's gonna need it.

BTW, it turns out I'm "triple negative" (more on that later).  Joy.