At 8:30am on the morning of Friday, June 13th, I arrived at my doctor’s office to get the final results of all my tests. I made myself a cup of Earl Gray tea and picked up a People magazine.
The doctor opened the door to the waiting room and greeted me. “Good morning Georgia! Come on back,” she said, cheerfully. This is good, I thought. We made small talk on the way to her office, but when we sat down across from each other at her desk, she got serious…and sad.
“I don’t have good news for you,” she said. She opened my file and shuffled the papers in front of me explaining the results of all my tests.
“You have ovarian cancer,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
I looked away from her and gazed out the window. It felt like someone had cupped their hands over my ears. The voice in my head said “well…I’m not going to have it!” I turned to the doctor and asked, “Are you certain? Because I have to go home and tell my husband that and I need to be absolutely certain!” She assured me that the diagnosis was correct and referred me to a Gynecologic Oncologist in San Antonio.
As I was leaving her office, my doctor was visibly upset. This has to be the worst part of her job, I thought. I hugged her and told her not to worry; I was going to be just fine. Then I told her I loved her.