I went to my appointment with Dr. Bouncy yesterday with steel butterflies slicing around in my stomach.
For one thing, I dreaded telling him and his lovely nurse that I had decided to go against their advice re Tamoxifen, at least for the moment. I am such a People Pleaser by nature, although not by effect. And I really want to please Dr. Bouncy and Nurse Jamie, because they are so kind and caring and sweet. This is the only thing they have to offer me, being strictly Standard Treatment sort of folks, and I feel bad about rejecting what is obviously their best advice and hope for me.
The other thing I was anxious about was the pain that has developed in my back, right around the spot where my kidney ends and my liver begins. With BC, liver mets are always a concern, and since I'd decided against hormone therapy (at least, for now), it would be both humiliating and scary to come smack up against a big "I Told You So" coming right out of the gate.
So Dr. Bouncy (who of course was not at all phased/fazed (sp?) by my confession of stubborn resistance - you would think I was predictable, or something) poked and prodded me a bit, pronounced himself fairly happy with my condition, decided that assuming the pain doesn't get worse it is reasonable to have my next scan in January, and cheerfully waved me off for kidney and liver function tests (what's a few quarts of bodily fluid between friends?)
So there we are. Several months of fretting for nothing.
Time to go eat lunch. I have an appointment with my surgeon for my post-surgery checkup this afternoon. Now, I know that she will disapprove of my treatment decisions and be very open about her feelings on the matter... but somehow I don't feel as badly about that as I felt about Dr. Bouncy and the lovely Nurse Jamie's opinions. I suppose I shouldn't tell her that, though.
Where are those steel butterflies when you need them?