A visit to the "Specialist"

C: When I'm not sitting in front of the television playing Call of Duty: Black Ops II, I'm very supportive. So when she said, "I'm going to have to be  examined by a specialist," I finished that match, saved the game, shut off the PlayStation properly, and jumped right to her side. My words could only do so much, as the timing and uncertainty of it all was scary. Regardless, it was my job to stay positive and keep her in high spirits (no, not with alcohol). I was equipped with loads of positive energy but not with enough foresight to recognize the significance of this "specialist."

I still remember walking up to the office door and reading, "Breast Specialist." This man she was going to sit in private with was a master. He is a black belt, a commander, connoisseur, lord and guru of breasts! Before she went inside I tried every way possible to remind her just how much she meant to me and that I'm here if she needs me for anything. If I let her go into that office questioning my love, a man with the skills of a breast-blacksmith was going to sweep her off her feet. I don't even think he... this doctor/specialist... had a name. Such a minor detail is completely insignificant anyway. Why does a man that's so good with his hands need a name?

I kept it cool once she went inside. Ok, I'm lying... I lost all my cool. I was nervous! She thought I was concerned about the results of the exam but I was worried she'd look out of his office and say, "I'm going to be a while, you should go home." But she came out smiling and said that she had nothing to worry about. I'm very happy to know that she's well but I'm still not sure if I have anything to worry about.

M: During my first physical, I nonchalantly mentioned to my new doctor that I thought perhaps, maybe, somehow, I was feeling a lump in my breast. She examined me and sent me immediately for an ultra sound. I was a little spooked. For over a year I had visited doctors and been told that this supposed lump I was feeling was no big deal -- despite my family history of breast cancer/disease. When I returned to her for my results, she explained that not only was there a lump in my breast, but a cluster of others. My heart sank as she referred me to the hospital's chief of breast cancer surgery.

The following weeks were brutal. One exam and procedure after another, in order to determine the most appropriate treatment. I'd cry on the phone just trying to make my appointments. You want to stay positive but sometimes the best you can be is human. And this human was afraid.

I felt a little more at ease once I researched my surgeon and saw that his card read "Breast Specialist". He must know what he's doing, I thought. This didn't seem to put C at ease for whatever reason.

My first major procedure with the surgeon took hours. He asked me extremely thorough questions, as would any great, blonde, blue eyed, fit, single, chief of staff, award winning doctor. He asked me things like How old are you? and Are you single? and How long have you been with him? and Is it serious? and What does he do for a living? and But do you love him? I mean he was just so attentive. Once we were done laughing, talking politics, poetry, and with my procedure, we decided on the surgery I was to undergo and all the steps/mini procedures I was to complete in the meantime.

Thankfully, my surgery went extremely well. It was certainly frightening. But I was lucky to have such a sensitive doctor. He must have seen the worry in my eyes because while he was gathering his instruments he told me repeated how gorgeous I was (such sweet bedside manner). I replied, I bet you tell that to all the topless girls on your operating table!

The mass was removed and in less than a month I go for my follow up visit which will determine what ongoing treatment/exams need to be done. C was and continues to be extremely supportive throughout it all. No matter how many times I tell him to just pick me up afterwards, he never EVER lets me go to or stay at the surgeon's office alone.