Turns out, the doctor I was afraid to meet with ended up being a 5' 6" soft spoken man in his eighties. He took a thorough background history starting with my childhood. I found myself saying "you'd have to ask my mother that" over and over.
He did a fairly comfortable exam and found no protruding lymph nodes, aside from the one in my neck that got me into this mess. His lovely nurse Anita told me cancer did not have to be all gloom and doom. I knew that, but thanks for the encouraging words.
He said now that I had the diagnosis, we needed further testing to determine the scope of the cancer. Are you kidding me? More tests? Fine- get out the needles or send me over to radiology again. I know those people by name at this point and would like to know how Marge's son did on his ACT last week anyway.
So, off I went for two more days of testing.
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