I am a file

to which my oncologist adds more paper. Blood work. Scans. Doctor appointments. Important dates.

Every Monday, my file gets passed around her team of colleagues during their weekly meetings. Files are opened, handed over, reviewed and discussed. Questions are answered.

But in my case, my file brought more questions.

Specifically, the team of oncologists is concerned about that mass near my left ovary. They don't like its behavior. So before I begin chemo, my oncologist wants to ensure that its benign. The nodule in my lung--meh--they could care less about. All my random cysts--nobody batted an eye or uttered a word. But this mass near my left ovary makes them wonder.

This means that I have more doctors appointments: one for a genetic screening and another to visit a gyn oncologist. My first chemo infusion might be postponed. My oncologist wants to ensure what my treatment plan will include.

This back and forth shuffle isn't new to me and Jase. When Nigel was in the NICU, we became accustomed to the two steps forward, one step back dance. I'm eager to begin chemo. But I also understand why this mass needs to be scrutinized.

It's five centimeters large. It's self-contained. And none of the surrounding lymph nodes are swollen. Yet its behavior is questionable, still.

Another finding from the team: it is absolutely certain my breast cancer wasn't present in my October mammogram. It emerged quickly! But chemo tends to kill fast-growing breast cancers like how a wrecking ball swings at a cheaply built house.

Bring it on! And yet, we might have to wait. Stay tuned...