"You have two kinds of cancer." the Surgeon is saying. 

It has been ten days since the Biopsy.  I was operating under the theory that "No news is good news."

"Final Diagnosis:

Infiltrating lobular carcinoma (0.3 cm) with extensive lobular carcinoma in situ and associated intraductal papilloma."

A Lumpectomy is scheduled for February 12.  This time I will stay at the hospital overnight.  I am stunned.  I Google every three-syllable word in the Pathology Report.

This is what I write to a granddaughter:

"February 13 at 8:33 am - LOL - I am in a "Comedy of Errors" here. The surgery was canceled because the doctor had an emergency. My situation can't be as bad as I thought.

Mike and Pete were with me. We checked in the hospital at 12:30 pm. We had a remote "beeper" - the kind you get when you go to Apple Bee's. We were buzzed with sound and a flashing light when it was my turn to enter the inner sanctum.

I was dressed in a paper gown that was like a space suit. It had a vacuum-cleaner-like portal where they were pumping in heat and/or air conditioning. I had my own temperature control. I was placed in a "holding room".

Mike and Pete, now responding to their beeper, were brought into the room. We made small talk for 1-1/2 hours. The time was now approaching 2:30 pm. It was time for the radioactive material to be placed into my system and the photo shoot.

The anesthetist came into the room. We talked about putting me to sleep for this happy adventure. He offered me Valium for my trip to Nuclear Medicine.

The photo shoot took place on Mars (or someplace similar). We went down six floors on the elevator to get there. Not a good sign - going down.

I'm laid flat on the movable slab of a circular camera. My right arm is in Statue of Liberty position. I discover my paper gown has Velcro tabs which, when open, display my 71-year-old, newly scarred, shriveled breast for all to see. (Well, there weren't too many people in the room, but it was displayed for all two of them!).

The doctor of the two, puts four needle "bubbles" around my surgical scar from two weeks ago. His helper has a spray can and he squirts cold liquid at the four bubbles, one at a time. They are putting some kind of radioactive material into my breast and we are going on camera to watch it travel to my arm pit!

I'm told there may be an exchange of words between the doctor and his assistant. If they say, "We've got a "hot one", that will be a good thing.

I'm already waiting for my hair to fall out!!!

This is getting longer than I thought, I will continue later.

"The hot one!!!"