Page 121 of Never Stop
“Okay, so your first tumor was three centimeters. This one is five.”
“Five?”
And another…
“Your last CT shows that the area is five centimeters. And given that a year ago they reported it was likely scar tissue, it confirms it’s growing faster than the one you had removed.”
Easton stepped over to me and started to rub my back. “So you do surgery to remove it and then what?”
Dr. Simon returned his attention to us again. “I’ve done research, and it seems no one knows why they grow or regrow. And since last time they left positive margins, I want to remove anything that it’s touching, including ribs—”
I felt as though I was going to throw up. “You want to remove my ribs?”
“Not all of them, only the ones the tumor is touching. I want to get all the margins and hope that by getting it all, it doesn’t come back again.”
Easton continued to rub circles on my back as I leaned into him. I just wanted to wake up from my nightmare already.
Dr. Simon leaned slightly forward in his chair toward us and placed his hands on his knees. “I’m going to send you to have an MRI so we know exactly where the tumor is located. Right now, it shows it’s touching your T1 nerve, and I want to see by how much and if we need to cut it.”
I stared at him, unable to speak.
“How will cutting the nerve affect her?” Easton asked.
Dr. Simon shrugged. “Your T1 nerve, which is also called the Ulnar nerve, runs from here,” he brought a finger up to where his collarbone was, “down the inside of your bicep, to the inside of your forearm and to your pinky and part of your ringer finger.” I watched his hand make the path of the nerve. “I had a patient who was left with a claw hand after I cut her T1 nerve.”
My eyes shot up to his. “A claw hand?”
“There’s a chance you’ll lose all function in those two fingers when we cut the nerve.”
“I need those fingers. I need that hand. I’m right handed,” I cried.
“It’s not for sure if it will happen, but I had to let you know the risks.”
“So what you’re saying,” Easton spoke, “is you’ll go in to remove the tumor, some of her ribs, and possibly cut a nerve that will turn her hand into a claw?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Is there anything else we can do? We just got married, and we want to have a baby. I can’t imagine caring for a newborn with one hand,” I pleaded.
“Again, I won’t know more until I see the MRI and get in there.”
I looked up at Easton with pleading eyes then took a deep breath. “What if you go in and remove as much of the tumor as you can without cutting the nerve? Then in a few years, after we’ve had a baby, we can go back in and remove the rest.” I was begging.
“Since we don’t know what we’re dealing with, I can’t promise you that.”
“But that’s what I want,” I stated.
Dr. Simon searched my eyes. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah, and then maybe we can take the chemo approach after we have a baby.”
He looked over to Easton, and it was though a silent understanding crossed between them.
“Okay, if that’s what you want, but I advise taking an aggressive approach given the cancer is growing faster.”
Easton’s hand stilled at the C word, and it felt as though my eyes literally bugged out of my head. I was living in a dream. “Cancer?” I asked. “I thought it wasn’t cancer?”
Easton pulled me to his side.
