The call came on October 14th, while I sat in the dentist’s chair. My referral had been accepted.
I was now in the hands of Dr. G, a world renowned oncologist surgeon out of Princess Margaret Hospital. He is involved in thyroid cancer research, and a professor at University of Toronto. Dealing with his office was a totally different ball game than the oncologist I had first been referred to.
“Dr. G received your referral. Firstly, he is not happy with your pathology report. He is having it sent here so our team can review it. He wants your ultrasound redone at Princess Margaret, so I have scheduled that for November 12th. Then I have scheduled you to see the doctor on November 18th.”
My mind was buzzing. Why was he fitting me in so soon? Did he see something he was really concerned about? I felt uneasy about stepping foot in Princess Margaret. It felt ominous. My Mother had her radiation there when she had breast cancer. My Nan had radiation there less than a year ago, just before she died.
“Why is he seeing me so soon?” I blurted out.
“It is hard to triage someone when we don’t know the pathology of what they have.”
“So I shouldn’t see this as him being concerned enough to see me quickly?”
“No.”
“Is it possible to get both appointments on the same day?”
“I looked into that. You would have to wait until March.”
“Okay, November it is!”
“We have planned out the dates so we have your pathology in hand when you meet Dr.G. Between that and the ultrasound, we are trying to prevent a second biopsy.”
A few weeks later we set off to Toronto. Not a good drive on the best of days. What should take 40 minutes ended up being 1.5 hours.
While Princess Margaret Hospital is a world renowned cancer hospital, it is very unassuming from the outside. It barely even has signage. The inside isn’t much better. Outdated, and rundown in a few places. Nevertheless, I felt like I was in the best possible place. There was nowhere else where I would receive this level of care.
They run their testing 24 hours a day, so my ultrasound was at 7:15pm. Eerily empty except for cleaners, and those of us waiting on testing.
I was taken in promptly, and quickly realized my ultrasound process would be much different than the ones I had previously. It took longer, and felt much more thorough. Extra imaging, more positioning. I took note of how many images were being saved.
“When I finish here, I will step out and review the images. I will come back in and let you know whether we need more, or if you are free to go.”
In the end, she had enough images. I got dressed again as my nodule ached. It had received too much stimulation for one day. It was interesting how something I hadn’t even realized I had, just months ago, was now something I could feel, and see.
Waiting had been the theme of this process. I only needed to wait 6 more days for answers, or so I thought.
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