Be sure to read in order:
Diagnosis
PET CT Scan
Scan Results
Radiation
Eadem Mutata Resurgo
PET CT SCAN
___________________
The next morning, both sisters met me at Dr. Reiner’s office. Julie with my godson, Tommy, who gave me the best hug. I know he didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew I was scared. Nicki was with her 9 day old newborn. Monica, the nurse, took us back to get us setup in a room. She was so kind. As we walked out of the waiting room, I noticed a wall of angel ornaments. It was refreshing.
For my 30th birthday, my sisters took one for the team, left their families behind and accompanied me to Mexico. As we waited for Dr. Reiner to arrive, Julie announced that we would not, as planned, be waiting for her 40th birthday to take our next rendezvous. We were going to face this, then celebrate in Mexico. They are so good to me!
Dr. Reiner came in, impressed with my crew and so happy to see the young ones. He drew some pictures, talked about the radiation plaque, and tried to tell me what to expect. The next big hurdle was the PET CT scan. If it’s nowhere else in my body, the treatment is straightforward. They’ll take a biopsy during my procedure and we’ll later learn the types of cells we’re dealing with – low or high risk. If there is cancer anywhere else in my body, that will change the game plan.
He was confident, based on my current health, that it wouldn’t be anywhere else. I was certain, based on my inability to retain information at work, that it would be in my brain. He told me that his front desk hates when he does this, but to let them know when it gets scheduled. He’ll make sure to be available for me to go over the results. He didn’t want me to have to wait.
When I walked out, Monica was waiting for me in the hallway. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked. When she hugged me she told me she’d be praying for me.
I went into work that day after my appointment. My sisters asked if I was sure I wanted to do that. Yes! My team was shocked to see me. I walked in and got awkward, silent, head-tilting stares. Eric said, “Okay, you let us know. You want to talk? We’re here. You want to just work, we’ll leave you alone.”
I told them I just needed to get lost in something else. An hour later, three of us grabbed lunch and I filled them in. We have a tight-knit team. I felt fully supported by them. Each one had reached out to check in on me. I knew it was hard for them to know what to say. Eric loved my jokes, “It was a real eye-opener.” I think we made some colleagues uncomfortable with our humor.
That night I drove to the Tech Center to have dinner with Nicki, her husband Nick, baby Kirstin, Julie and my parents. Seeing them made me feel like a little kid. Those are two hugs from my parents that I’ll never forget. We enjoyed wine and good food. I still couldn’t believe that we were all there that night because of the news.
I picked up Jen to meet up with some friends after. That was hard. I was far too sober and some of them were far too festive for that to be a good match. I was tired of talking about it. I felt like people were talking about me. Mostly because I overheard one friend say, “Katie just found out she has cancer.” I was sitting right there. I knew they all meant well, but I was just overwhelmed.
The next day was spent with my family, at Peter’s soccer game and hanging at Nicki and Nick’s house. It was the right company and the best company. I caught up on some phone calls and was still thinking of people I needed to tell.
There was a big fundraiser/party that night. I decided I wanted to go and I informed my friends prior, “I’m going. We’re not talking about it.” I was a great evening. I got some killer hugs and gave the look – don’t even ask. It was respected.
Sunday morning I went to church. I love my church and have a few connections there. I didn’t want to be sitting alone, so I was trying to spot someone I knew. Brigette walked by and said hi. I asked if I could sit with her. I started to cry. She sat down with me and stayed by my side the whole service. Her husband was on the other side of the church. She prayed with me after.
They always invite people to talk to the pastor and elders after the service. I approached Dave, the Associate Pastor. I started to cry. I told him what was going on and he sat with me and prayed with me. He asked for my contact information and emailed me the next day to check in, one of several check-ins.
I really wanted to see Bambi. She’s one of the elders and just a sweet, petite woman with whom I’d served with at one point. I spotted her talking with a girl, Katie, who I also know. I said, “I have something to tell both of you and I’m hoping for your prayers.” They listened. Katie informed me that she was celebrating 10 years of being cancer free that day. This was a whole new bond for me. And it was powerful. They prayed with me.
I received a voicemail during church from Christina, my best friend since first grade. She and her husband and son live in Ohio. “Ortman, it’s Graney. I’m coming. Either the weekend you get the radiation or the weekend after. You just tell me which you prefer. But I’ll be there.” I listened to that message and knew I wasn’t going to argue with that.
The next couple days were a blur. The anticipation of the PET CT scan didn’t bother me until it got scheduled. I received word on Tuesday morning that it was cleared with my insurance finally. It was scheduled for the following morning. I’m sure my team noticed my mood change. I became quiet and nervous for the rest of the day.
In September 2008, I had flown to Denver to interview with a couple companies. As I killed time in a nearby store before one interview, I spotted my future haircut. I approached her immediately. “Hi, I’m trying to move to Denver and one of my biggest concerns is breaking up with my hair stylist of 6 years in Minneapolis. I need to know who cuts your hair here.” I still have the card she gave me with Tracy’s information.
I’d moved here by December that year and on December 17, I reconnected with my dear old friend Sarah at a Neil Diamond concert with her sister. Sarah is one third of a best friend’s necklace from the 90s; Christina is the other third. That night, my cell phone hopped out of my front pocket and into an automatically flushing toilet. Sarah waited for me. I finally opened the stall door and told her what happened. She rolled up her sleeve at the Pepsi Center and dug in to get it. The phone was long gone. In that moment, I realized even though we lost touch for a couple years, this friendship I’ve had since kindergarten hasn’t skipped a beat. She told me the next day that she’d stick her hand down the toilet for me any day.
Tracy cut my hair for the first time the next morning. Sarah wasn’t too far behind, and we soon became regular clients. It didn’t take long for that professional relationship to turn into a priceless friendship. She was our hairapist.
The three of us had dinner on Tuesday before the scan. In the past year, we’d picked each other up when Sarah’s mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and then Tracy’s mom, and now me and the nipple tumor. We all share a similar faith and are able to talk about our challenges with God, our fears in life, what we’re most grateful for, everything. They were angry at God. Why was this happening to me? Again, though. Everything happens for a reason. I know God put Tracy in my life on purpose and that Sarah came back in for a reason, too.
As I crawled into bed that night, I cried tears I’ve never experienced before. Complete fear. I prayed to God and all my angels – mom, Wally, my grandparents. Be with me. Get me through this. I’m not sure if I even slept.
My sisters both had obligations on Wednesday morning. I had asked Tracy if she’d go with me to the scan. She wasn’t working and I knew she’d be happy to be there for me. I drove myself to the hospital and, in rare Ortman style, was actually early for this thing. The lady at the front desk checked me in. We were almost finished and her computer froze. She apologized for having to start over. I winked at her and said, “Hopefully this is the worst thing that happens to both of us today.” She smiled.
I walked down a long hallway and checked in with another person. Then I sat in the waiting room. I picked a chair and put my purse on the floor. I looked over at my mom sitting next to me. I squeezed my hand in a fist to feel like she was holding it.
Darrell came to get me – a tall man, with long gray hair in a ponytail. He was so nice. We walked down another long hallway together and I continued to squeeze my hand and picture my mom walking by my side.
I changed into a sexy robe and was instructed to drink a shake that Darrell promised wouldn’t be that bad considering it was ground up rocks. Yum. He let me know what to expect when we got into the scan. I had to let the shake settle so I watched the news in my room for forty-five long minutes.
It was time. He got me all tucked in and put on some ocean sounds. I have to pee a lot when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have picked the water noise. I didn’t realize how much they tuck you in for those scans. In all, it would last about 30 minutes. I’m not claustrophobic. Good thing because they tied me in like a straightjacket. My hand was still in a fist. I kept thinking of my mom. She’d been down this tube.
Jules says
Ok, third time I’ve read this and I still cried so hard!!! Love you!
Deborah Titus says
Katie, thank you for your words. They are amazing. I think of you often.
Debbie T.
Middle says
I’ve read all of this already, and still I can’t wait to see post #3.
Jill Bretsen says
I love how God kept putting the right people in your path/day to make sure you knew how loved and supported you are. Amazing. Your attitude and determination to face the cancer head on has reminded me of your mother. You are your mothers daughther. She would be so proud, Katie you Rock,!
Mary Watke says
Katie, you are the miracle! Your Mom must be so proud of you! Love you, Mary