On Monday, Pablo went to his radiation treatment. When he was about to leave the radiation room, a doctor walked in and told him to sit down. She proceeded to tell him that his tumour is spreading and it is now believed to be cancerous. The only way to know for sure is to do a biopsy. This doctor then told him that he'll most likely need chemotherapy and possibly another surgery. The real kicker - she said that if this doesn't work, Pablo will have 9 - 12 months to live.
Pablo told me this many hours after he found out.
He didn't want me to know.
He didn't want me to worry.
He didn't want me to be upset.
And again I lost it.
It was April 16 - April 26 all over again.
I never wanted to feel like that again...to be that sad, angry, pissed, depressed, hopeless.
The doctor that told Pablo this news was not his oncologist.
Every Tuesday, Pablo is supposed to see his oncologist after his treatment.
Pablo wanted him to confirm or deny this news and he wanted to hear it alone.
So I went to work today and IT SUCKED. I felt like shit all day. (Thanks Dianne for trying to cheer me up!)
Pablo spoke to his oncologist and here is what the oncologist confirmed:
The oncologist does want Pablo to have a biopsy.
They are under the suspicion that what is left of the tumour might now be cancerous.
He confirmed that the doctor overreacted yesterday and he apologized and said it wouldn't happen again.
Once the biopsy is done, then we'll know where to go from there...
Again, in the words of my late Nonna (grandmother):
(cause I'm too tired to come up with all the expletives I'd like to put here...)