They called this afternoon. I have an appointment with the oncologist on Thursday afternoon at 2:30. That's when I'll find out what they want to do, medically. Chemo? Radiation? Both? Who knows? I will know by Thursday evening. After that, it'll be another appointment with the surgeon (early next week) to get our final game plan in place.
If I am to do chemo, I'll likely start nearly immediately. WAH! Yes, that is freaking me out more than the other stuff. Yes, I know. Yes, it will grow back. Yes, I'll feel good again after. Yes, I know. Hell, I'll cry about what I want to, OK? Today I cried because I won't get perfect attendance this year. Stupid? Yup. I'm really proud of perfect attendance, and I'm looking for little things to freak out about, so I don't freak out about having cancer. Later, I intend to cry over spilled milk. Try to stop me.
OK, that made it sound like I'm crying non-stop. That's not true. I functioned at work JUST fine today. I'm doing fine now. There are just certain times that I need to cry. Hell, let's keep it in perspective: I cry at the Folgers Christmas commercials! I cry at greeting card commercials. I cry at sappy movies. It's what I'm good at.