We Receive Sad News

 

I started the following in answer to Ellen’s question following my last post, but decided to make it into a post. The first photo was taken during such a surgery. The second photo is of the type robot that is used. The third photo shows the medical staff’s positioning.

When Peggy’s surgeon, Diego, called me after her surgery on Friday, he pronounced the removal of her spleen, lower pancreas, and six lymph nodes (for biopsy), a success. During the following days, I reminded myself repeatedly to check on her biopsy results, but was so confident that they were negative that I still hadn’t done so when I went to bring her home from the hospital on Tuesday. Upon reaching her room, I found Peggy despondent, and when I asked her why, she said that two of the six lymph nodes were malignant.

On the drive home, she said that the worst part of learning her biopsy results was having to tell me. She then asked that I keep the malignancy a secret because, “I don’t want people to know I have failed and to treat me with pity.” I could but say that even brave and intelligent warriors lose battles, and that she is the only person on earth who would judge herself a failure.

On Wednesday, Peggy told her older sister, Dianne (who is certain to tell the rest of their family), about the biopsy, so I no longer knew what she expected of me. When she told someone else today (Thursday), I asked if she still wanted me to keep the news a secret, and she said, “I guess not.” I could hardly interpret her response—“I guess not”—as a ringing endorsement to tell who I pleased, but because they are going to find out anyway, I had rather they get the news directly (from Peggy or me). I also don’t want anyone to feel bad that they weren’t told sooner because I have been in that boat, and it hurts.

I’m in an online support group with a very nice lady who was married to a terminally ill woman who didn’t want anyone to know she was terminally ill. By reluctantly agreeing to conceal this information from friends and family, the ”nice lady” and her spouse lost 100% of the support they would have received, and now that the ailing spouse is dead, the survivor is struggling to forgive her for making so hurtful a demand. 

Peggy sees her internist tomorrow (the 20th), her surgical oncologist on Monday, and her chief oncologist on Thursday. Each appointment will be awaited with what have become the dominant emotions of our lives, hope and dread. Meanwhile, Peggy is despondent for having, “...put my body through a horrible surgery for nothing.” I can but hope that her doctors have something good to say.