By the time Rose arrived at Crosby’s, she was running about ten minutes behind schedule. She rushed through her shopping and headed for her doctor’s office, opting to leave the groceries in the trunk during the appointment. With no frozen or refrigerated goods, the groceries should be fine, she thought. After wasting additional time searching for a parking space at her doctor’s, she hopped out of the car, quickly locked the doors of her Nissan Murano and hurried inside to the waiting room.
Doctor Dewitt’s office had a collection of outdated magazines. Rose was content to browse through them, however, given that all the content was new to her. She selected an eight-month-old copy of People featuring a photograph of Whitney Houston on the front. Under her photo on the cover were the words “Whitney Houston: 1963 – 2012.” Rose’s thoughts went straight to Whitney’s teenage daughter, pictured beside her. It’s sad that this young woman lost her mother and that this sort of loss occurs every day in the lives of ordinary people—people not fortunate enough to be remembered by the entire world.
“Rose Kearny?” the office nurse called. Rose stood up and followed the nurse back to the examination room. The nurse then took her through the routine questions while Rose offered up her usual answers. “No, nothing new to report…no complaints…yes, the kids are doing well, thank you…” When the nurse left, Rose put on the required paper johnny. She really hated having all her female systems checked—all that poking, prodding and inspecting of every orifice was necessary, but it was a process she was always tempted to put off.
Rose sat down on the exam table, waiting patiently in the cool room, freezing in her paper garment. Nearly eight minutes later came a knock at the door, and Dr. Dewitt walked in. “Hello, Rose. How are we today?” Ah—the royal “we.” Clearly, I’m the only one sitting here in nothing but an oversized paper towel. The thought of herself sitting there in such stylish attire shaking her doctor’s hand was amusing.
Rose smiled warmly. “I’m good, Doctor—and you?”
“I’m doing well. It’s nice to see you again.”
The doctor began the exam, thoroughly checking all the usual places—eyes, ears, mouth, abdomen, breasts. When he reached her left breast, the doctor stopped abruptly, looking at Rose tentatively. His fingers manipulated a spot on her left breast again. He seemed to be concentrating on a small area close to her armpit. The doctor guided Rose’s hand to the spot. “Rose, how long has this lump been here?”
Rose’s stomach jumped. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never noticed that in my personal exams during showers. I don’t think it was there when I checked a week ago.”
The doctor could see the alarm in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Rose. It’s probably just a fibroadenoma—basically, a nodule of fibrous tissue. I see them all the time. Regardless, to be on the safe side, I’d like to run a couple tests and have a mammogram done.”
Dr. Dewitt finished the exam, performed a Pap smear and asked the nurse to draw some blood. Upon checking out, the woman at the front desk arranged a follow-up appointment for Rose at the Women’s Health and Imaging Department of the North Shore Medical Center in Salem. The mammogram was set for one o’clock that same day. Feeling very pressed for time, Rose asked the office assistant, “This really isn’t a good day for this—do I really need to have the test done today?” She was thinking about the surprise party for Seamus and her kids who needed to be picked up.
“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Kearny. Dr. Dewitt was very insistent. Besides, if there is a problem, it’s always best to nip these things in the bud as soon as possible.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Rose resigned herself to the ordeal and left the office.
Once in the parking lot, Rose called her neighbor Jessica to ask if she would mind picking up the kids. Jessica was happy to help out, agreeing to be at the school around four o’clock. Let’s get this over with. Rose headed to North Shore Medical Center. Suddenly, she remembered the groceries still sitting in her trunk and wasted no time getting there.
ROSE ARRIVED AT the outpatient desk in Women’s Health and Imaging at close to 12:30 p.m. in the hope they might see her early. She was in luck: the office had just received a cancellation. Rose finished filling out her paperwork, and they escorted her promptly to an examination room. She changed quickly into a johnny on top and was escorted to imaging. A technician smashed her left breast against a cold panel and took the mammogram. Like most women, Rose really disliked mammograms; it was painful being compressed and manipulated so hard against the cold metal plate. A necessary precaution, she reminded herself.
Rose returned to the examination room and sat down, pondering this unexpected interruption to her day. Thinking ahead, she contemplated not telling Seamus about the test; it was his birthday, after all, and this was just a routine check. Nothing to worry about, really…Then why the hell am I so nervous? By the time the attending physician entered the room thirty minutes later, Rose was more than a little apprehensive.
The doctor’s face was without expression as he held out his hand and introduced himself. “Hello, Mrs. Kearny. I’m Doctor Rodriguez.” The man possessed a gentle, soothing Spanish accent. He continued warmly, “Your mammogram clearly shows a few lumps in your left breast.”
“A few?” Rose was alarmed. One would have been concerning enough, but several?
“The main mass is about three centimeters from your left side, and there are smaller lumps radiating out from that point. I spoke to Dr. Dewitt. We both agree that a biopsy is in order and the sooner the better. In fact, we’d like to perform the procedure now with your permission?”
Rose’s mind was reeling. No, damn it—I don’t have any lumps. I have a birthday party to prepare, kids who need my help and a very busy day. However reluctant she felt, she still agreed. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
Dr. Rodriguez explained the procedure. “I’m going to give you a local anesthetic that will sting for only a second and will then numb that area of your breast entirely. I’ll perform a core needle biopsy to extract some of the lump tissue. You shouldn’t feel much.”
Despite the anesthesia, it felt to Rose like the doctor had stuck a six-inch ice pick into her breast. She bit her tongue when he extracted the sample and later found that her bite had drawn a bit of blood.
“There. All done. That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asked.
Rose lied. “Not at all.”
Dr. Rodriguez applied a bandage quickly and then expertly left the room so Rose could get dressed. She paused before putting on her bra, staring at herself in the mirror and looking at the new bandage. Just how was it possible that her own body might have turned against her, a possible weapon in her own destruction? You’re overthinking this thing, Rose. Relax. It’s just a fibroadenoma…everything is going to be fine. For now, just concentrate on the party for Seamus.
THE PARTY WENT off without a hitch. Seamus was both surprised and delighted. His friends had shown up thirty minutes prior to his own arrival, enjoying hors d’oeuvres and chatting. When Seamus walked through the door, his jaw dropped and his eyes showed a complete lack of foreknowledge—precisely the reaction Rose had hoped for. His children, Chrissy and Jonathan, met him at the door, his four-year-old daughter shouting, “Daddy—look at all the people! Happy Birthday!”
Seamus was smiling broadly, and he was happy. He turned to his wife, and in his strong Irish accent, he spoke affectionately, “Rosie, I can’t believe you pulled this off—and without my knowing!”
Mockingly, Rose turned to look behind her. “Who, me?” She turned back to face her appreciative husband and, with a gleam in her eye, she kissed him fully on the mouth. “Anything for you, my love.”
LATER THAT EVENING, Rose and Seamus were in the privacy of their bedroom, changing for the night. Seamus sat on the bed smiling to himself, admiring his wife as she removed her shirt and bra. It was then that he saw the bandage. Seamus had a genuine look of concern on his face, and in an almost accusing tone, he asked, “Rosie—whatever happened to
you? Why the bandage?”
In all the excitement from the party, she had forgotten about the test and the bandage. “Oh, it’s nothing. The doctor just wanted to check something.”
Seamus lowered his chin and looked piercingly at his wife, his light blue eyes locking in on hers. It was his famous lie-detector look, and she had never been good at circumventing it. His jaw clenched, and his voice dropped in pitch. “Tell me the truth now. What happened, Rosie?” Seamus patted the bed next to him in a come-and-sit-here gesture.
Rose, defiant at first, resisted tears. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. Seamus sensed she was holding back—fear, stress…something.
“Rosie, what is it? Talk to me, love. Come on.”
She looked back into the caring eyes of her husband, searching for some simple words to explain her concern. She hadn’t completely accepted that there might be something seriously wrong with her. Despite the dryness in her mouth, Rose lifted her face and blurted it out. “The doctor found a lump during my physical today.”
Her husband’s countenance changed in an instant. “Oh no, Rosie.” He placed his hand tenderly on his wife’s leg, searching her face. Seamus had questions but he knew Rosie would need to tell him at her own pace. So he sat quietly, studying her reaction and waiting for her to speak.
Rose took a cleansing breath. “They don’t know what it is, Seamus, but it concerned Dr. Dewitt enough that he wanted a biopsy done right away.”
Seamus swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rose looked away for a second before turning back and shrugging. “Because. It’s your…” She choked out her words between her tears. “It’s your birthday, Seamus, and I didn’t want to ruin your surprise.”
Seamus flew to his feet. “Birthday be damned! You’re my love, Rosie—my bride.” He sounded truly incredulous. “Your health is more important than any birthday. I’ve already had thirty-nine of ‘em, but I only have one of you.” He reached over and held her face in his hands, looking at her as if laying eyes on her for the first time. “I love you. No matter what comes of this, we will handle it…together. You understand? You and me together, Rosie…”
She nodded in comprehension, rubbing at her eyes. They embraced silently, each comforting the other. In his heart, Seamus wasn’t just holding his wife physically; he was shielding her, protecting her from anything the doctor might throw her way.
Seamus broke the silence. “How long ‘til they know anything?”
“A few days…at least.”
His face transformed from concern to unabashed affection for his wife. “I love you, Rosie.” Rose leaned her head to the side and rested it on his shoulder as she released a sob. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Not saying another word, Seamus wrapped both arms fully around her, and using his full strength, he pulled her down on the bed against the pillows. He held her there as she cried it all out, eventually tiring and falling asleep. Seamus placed his hand against her chest and felt her steady, strong heartbeat—the living heart within the woman who had bore his children and shared his life. He lay there, clothes half off, lights on, holding his sleeping wife as he himself drifted off to sleep.
THE NEXT THREE days felt more like seven as Rose and Seamus waited for the results from her biopsy. They had decided together not to tell the kids anything until they had something definitive to go on. There was just no point in worrying them without cause.
At 11:06 a.m. Wednesday morning, Rose was sitting at the desk in the real estate office where she worked when the phone rang. She looked down at the caller ID. It was the doctor’s office. In a carefully controlled voice, she answered the phone. “Hello,” she said and waited expectantly.
“Hello. May I please speak with Rose Kearny?” a female voice said on the other end.
Rose swallowed. “This is she.”
“Mrs. Kearny, Dr. Dewitt would like you to come to the office to discuss your test results.”
Rose wasn’t about to wait for an answer. “And what are the results?”
The voice said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kearny, I don’t know. The doctor wants to give them to you personally.”
So that was it. Rose knew exactly what that meant. Bad news. It had to be.
The woman pressed further. “Can you come in this afternoon at three o’clock?”
“Yes. I’ll be there.” Rose hung up the office phone and then immediately texted Seamus: Test results are in. Meet me at Dr. Dewitt’s at 3:00?
Seamus was quick to return her text: I’ll be there. Don’t worry. Love you.
Rose sat at her desk, staring at the clock on the wall, listening to a voice within. Four hours—how can I ever wait for four hours? An unbidden answer to that question arrived instantly. You’ve waited this long. Four hours won’t change a thing.
And so four hours it was.
AS SEAMUS PULLED into the doctor’s parking lot, the clock on his Honda read 2:46. He opened his own car door, walking quickly over to his wife’s Nissan. She sat there momentarily, looking at him through the glass of the driver’s side, offering up a faint smile. Seamus looked down at his wife and opened her car door, reaching for her hand to lift her to her feet.
“You ready?” he asked.
She searched his eyes. “No,” she answered, “not really.”
He mustered up an encouraging smile and said gently, “We can handle this, Rosie. Come on now.”
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” she said flatly.
The office was empty. “Is it always this dead in here?” he asked.
Rose was puzzled. “No. It’s usually quite busy.”
Overhearing their comments, the office receptionist spoke. “Dr. Dewitt cleared some of his schedule. He wanted to have some uninterrupted time to talk to you. Please, follow me.” She led them down the hall to Dr. Dewitt’s office where the doctor greeted them and offered them coffee, something that no one in his office had ever done before.
Seamus, being the direct Irish man that he was, cut to the chase. “Look doc, no offense here, but we’d just like to know what the results are. So please, just get on with it.”
The doctor sat back in his chair and looked directly at the two of them. “All right,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Mrs. Kearny, I’m afraid you have breast cancer.”
Rose sat there, stunned. Breast cancer. The words echoed through her head like an echo off the walls of a canyon. Surprisingly, Rose didn’t feel like crying. She wanted answers. She wanted to know how to make things right.
Seamus, affected by the news in his own way, chose to handle it as he did any puzzle. He was a financial genius of sorts, always searching for the equal sign to solve a problem. Now he was thinking hard, hunting for the answer. “So, Doctor, what’s next—chemo?”
The doctor put his hands on the desk, each one holding the other. “The first thing we need to do is find out how extensive the cancer is. The tumor is an invasive lobular carcinoma. This means that it started growing in one part of the breast and then moved on to another area.”
This threw Seamus. “So you’re saying it’s metastasized already?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes. But to what extent, we won’t know until we run further tests.” The doctor paused and looked over at Rose, who sat rigid in her chair. “Rose, are you okay?”
She forced a weak smile. “I’ll be okay. Just tell me what’s next, Doctor.”
The doctor wanted very much to help her along. “We’ll get you through this; all three of us will work together. I will help you in any way I can medically, but you will need to do a few things to help yourself, Rose—like reading up on breast cancer and looking for alternate research that has either been overlooked or is just now surfacing.”
“Why does it feel like you’re pulling out the big guns already?” Seamus asked apprehensively.
“Mr. Kearny…” the doctor began to answer, but Seamus interrupted.
“Seamus—call me Seamus.”
“Okay then. Seamus. I must be blunt with you. Your wife has a very aggressive form of cancer. This can spread very quickly from point to point within her body. We need to determine exactly where it has spread first, and then we need to tackle it quickly and forcefully.”
The doctor continued, “I’m putting you in touch with Dr. Rubbick. She is, in my opinion, the best oncologist there is at MGH.” The doctor’s tone was pensive. “I am relatively certain she will want to do a full lumpectomy. We should remove the primary lump and also remove some of the surrounding tissue as a precaution, but the details of how much should be removed will be determined by Dr. Rubbick herself. At this point, we will concentrate on two things—saving your left breast and ensuring that we find and remove all of the carcinoma.”
Seamus looked over at his wife, trying to gauge her emotions. He could read the fear in her eyes, could sense that she was contemplating if she would end up fighting for her very life. He looked back at Dr. Dewitt, suddenly aware that the doctor was holding something back. “What is it?” Seamus asked bluntly. “What aren’t you telling us?”
The doctor let out a labored breath. “The mammogram showed some discoloration in the upper left lung lobe. Now, it could be what they call a ghost—a bit of light or a reflection—but it could also be another mass. We won’t know for sure until the lumpectomy.”
Rose was stunned. Blinking hard, her water-filled eyes took on a pleading expression. “Doctor, are you telling me that this could be even worse than losing my breast?” She was trying to pinpoint exactly what the doctor was saying here.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Rose. This is serious. We have no idea at this point how far the cancer has spread. But please understand, the most important thing at the moment is not saving your breast—it’s preserving your life.”
Ruins of the Mind Page 13