This story is about breast cancer. I know for some it might be difficult if not impossible to read. I understand. I’m not one who likes to give or get spoilers but there are times when they are appropriate. Should you need to know any details before you make the decision to read this please contact me.

Chapter One

Monday, January 9, 2006

She paused outside of the doctor’s office. It had been a whirlwind four weeks. Four weeks since she’d found the lump. Four weeks of sleepless nights. Four weeks of pretending nothing was wrong. Now it was time to find out what life held for her.

She’d been doing her routine breast exam when she found a small lump. She waited three days before she did anything hoping it was just her imagination. But every morning when she checked it was still there.

This shouldn’t be happening to her, she kept thinking. She was only 35. People who are 35 don’t get breast cancer. Most women don’t even have a baseline mammogram until they are 40. Breast cancer didn’t “run in her family.” Why was this happening to her?

So she made an appointment for a mammogram, just to be on the safe side. It was difficult to get one scheduled especially with the holidays but they fit her in the day after Christmas. That was followed by the biopsy the day after New Year’s. So now, in the second week of the new year, she was waiting to get the results of the biopsy.

No one knew what was happening. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone until she knew more because she didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas. She was very good at internalizing her feelings, a practice she called “informed denial.” She had perfected it over the past six years. It was the idea that you know something could go wrong but not acknowledging it until it happens. Trying not to worry about the “what ifs” until they become an actual issue.

That’s how she got through the multiple surgeries that her six-year-old daughter Elizabeth had endured. Lizzie had been born with a rare genetic disorder called Crouzon’s Syndrome. She chose to not waste her energy worrying about what might happen. It would have worn her out and depressed her. Instead she focused on the positive and knew that if things did go wrong she’d have plenty of time to worry then, and have plenty of support from family and friends to get her through it. If things went as planned then she wouldn’t have wasted her energy worrying.

That was how she kept her sanity when she sat for ten hours waiting for Lizzie to come out of surgery that cracked her skull like an egg and put it back together. It was how every year she dealt with two full days of appointments. It was how she juggled her schedule to get Lizzie to the various speech and physical therapies and still do her job.

It was how she tried to approach the last four weeks.

She took a deep breath and walked into the waiting area. After checking in with the receptionist she sat down in the farthest corner of the room. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. That was especially the case with her oldest brother Brian. Dr. Brian Belden was a pediatrician on staff at the Sleepyside Clinic. If she ran into him he’d take one look at her and know that something was wrong. Brian had gotten good at reading her when they were in high school. She’d gotten herself and her friends into quite a few scrapes and Brian could usually tell when she was keeping things from them.

She couldn’t tell anyone how long she sat and waited. It could have been five minutes or it could have been two hours. Time meant nothing to her as she sat there.

“Trixie Frayne,” the nurse called out. When no one responded, she repeated, “Trixie Frayne. Is there a Trixie Frayne here?”

Trixie shook her head to clear the fog from it and followed the nurse back into the examining room. She knew the news couldn’t be good when the nurse asked if she brought someone with her to the appointment. The nurse took her weight, blood pressure and temperature and then escorted her into an exam room. Trixie sat down and waited some more. By now all she wanted was to know what the prognosis was.

She didn’t have to wait long until Dr. Weber came in. Dr. Weber had one of the best bedside manners in the Clinic. He didn’t believe in sugar coating anything, yet he was extremely compassionate.

“Mrs. Frayne,” he began. “There is no way of saying this except the direct way. Our tests indicate that you have Stage 1 Breast Cancer.”

Despite the fact that deep down she suspected that was the case, it still came as a shock. All of a sudden, she couldn’t take a breath and she felt like she was going to lose her lunch. Breathe, she told herself. In and out. In and out.

“The cancer is located only in the right breast and we have found only two lumps,” continued Dr. Weber. “The biopsy indicates that it has not spread to your lymph nodes. Your chances of survival are very good.”

Trixie didn’t hear a word after Dr. Weber had uttered the words breast cancer. He could have been speaking Swahili for all she was aware. In her mind, cancer killed. After all, anyone she’d ever known who had cancer had eventually died from it. She had watched as one of her college roommate’s mother died of ovarian cancer ten years ago.

Dr. Weber quickly realized that Trixie was in no state of mind to hear everything that needed to be said. “I know this is difficult but we need to discuss a care plan. I think we should wait and discuss this with your husband or someone else. It’s always good to have a second set of ears to listen and ask questions.”

All Trixie could do was nod her head.

“Let me look at my schedule for tomorrow and see what I have available.”

Dr. Weber left the room. Trixie began to shake uncontrollably. All that she could think about was the cancer. How could this be happening to her? Tears began to spill over in her eyes. She knew that once the dam broke she’d never make it home so she tried valiantly to keep them in check. When Dr. Weber returned a few minutes later she had a fake smile pasted on her face and had pulled her emotions in check.

Instead of sitting at his desk across from Trixie, Dr. Weber sat down in the chair next to her and gently grasped her hand. “I’ve held open my schedule for 8:30 to 10:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Feel free to include anyone you would like and feel comfortable with.” His voice softened as he continued, “I won’t be so presumptuous as to say I know what you are going through. Just remember this is very treatable and I have faith that you will survive this.”

Trixie just nodded her head continuing to hold her tears at bay.

“Are there any questions you have?” he asked once more.

Trixie tried to speak but her voice failed her so she just shook her head.

“Here’s my card. Please feel free to call me at home tonight should you or your husband have any questions.” As he got up to leave he gave her an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder. “Together we’ll get through this, Mrs. Frayne.”

Not trusting her voice, Trixie nodded her head, grabbed her purse and got up and left the office. Operating on autopilot, she made her way out into the parking lot. She had just reached her silver Ford Expedition when she came out of the fog she was in and realized someone was calling her name.

She turned around and saw her brother running toward her. Damn, she thought. I really didn’t want to face anyone yet.

“Trixie,” Brian said. “I’ve been trying to get your attention since you walked out of the building. Is something wrong with one of the kids? Is Matt still…” He stopped in mid-sentence when Trixie turned around and he saw the distressed look she was trying to conceal.

“Matt isn’t still running the fever he had last week is he?” Brian asked in concern.

Trixie looked quickly away and fumbled with the car door. “No, he’s fine. I’m fine.” Nine-year-old Matt was Trixie and her husband Jim’s oldest child and only son.

Brian didn’t believe for a moment that everything was fine. He also knew that until she was ready to tell him no amount of badgering, coaxing or cajoling would get it out of her.

By now Trixie had climbed into the driver’s seat and tried to put her keys in the ignition. The keys dropped to the floor and suddenly she found herself trembling uncontrollably. The tears that had been threatening to fall for that last half-hour had finally spilled over and silently traveled down her cheeks.

Brian gently pulled Trixie out of the car and into a tight embrace. They stood there until Trixie was cried out and all she could do was hiccup.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” Brian started.

“No it’s not!” she wailed. “I just left Dr. Weber’s office and he said…he said… Oh God, I can’t even say the words.” Once again the tears flowed.

Brian gently stroked her hair as he supported her. There was only one Dr. Weber on staff and Brian knew of his reputation as an oncologist. It was the last thing he expected to hear. “We’ll be here for you,” he assured her.

Despite the state she was in, Trixie appreciated that Brian didn’t make any kind of promises. He just offered his support.

“Why don’t you let me drive you home?” Brian suggested. When Trixie started to protest he continued, “Jim called a little while ago and said a couple of the kids had been running low grade temperatures for several days and today had developed a nasty cough. I’m heading there anyway.”

Jim was Dr. James W. Frayne II, school administrator and owner of Ten Acres Academy a boarding school for orphaned and abandoned children. Jim was Brian’s oldest and best friend as well as Trixie’s husband.

Trixie glanced at her watch. “Oh my God!” Trixie said frantically. Her words tumbled out in a frazzled jumble. “It’s already 3:30. I was supposed to meet Honey at the Agency an hour ago to go over the notes on our newest client. Matt needs to be picked up from basketball practice. Lizzie will be getting off the bus and no one is home and if I don’t pick Jenny up by 4:00 it will be the third time in the last week that I’ve picked her up late. I keep getting nasty notes about not picking her up on time.” At two and a half, Jenny was Trixie and Jim’s youngest child.

Honey, Trixie’s oldest and dearest friend, was married to Brian. They had two children. Mickey was just over a month older than Matt and Stella was eighteen months old.

Together Trixie and Honey owned Frayne-Wheeler Detective Agency. It was a childhood dream that had become a reality ten years ago. The two of them had developed a reputation for having excellent investigative skills while not over charging their clients. Their client base extended throughout New York and New England.

The cogs went around in Brian’s brain. “I’ll call Honey and she can pick up Matt when she picks up Mickey since they’re on the same team. She can also pick up Jenny when she picks up Stella. I’ll make a quick call to Moms and have her meet Lizzie at the bus stop and take her back to Crabapple Farm. Honey can drop the rest of the kids off there and then come over to the Academy and pick me up.” He was already pulling out his phone and punching the numbers in to take care of everything when Trixie’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Brian, we can’t do that. Moms will know something is up and I can’t even tell you what is wrong.”

“I’ll just tell her that you and Honey have a late appointment with a client and that Jim and I have to deal with a couple of sick kids at the Academy.”

Trixie nodded in agreement. She was glad Brian was there to make the decisions and she didn’t have to really think about them.

In a few minutes Brian had made the necessary phone calls. Brian knew that Moms didn’t believe for one minute the story he had told her. Both of them had seen how out of sorts Trixie had been over the holidays.

Honey had seemed more than happy to help out just as he knew she would be. She would meet him at the Academy after the kids were all settled in at Crabapple Farm.

Brian reached down and picked Trixie’s keys up off the floor. “Let’s go. I’ll drive. Do you want to go home or to the school?” He walked Trixie around to the passenger side of the car and helped her in.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “How am I going to tell Jim? This is going to kill him.” As always Trixie was thinking of everyone else except herself.

“I’ll be there for you if you want.” Brian offered. “It would help if you could tell me what this is about.”

Taking a deep breath Trixie closed her eyes and blurted out, “I’m dying, Brian. I have breast cancer.” Once again she found herself wrapped in Brian’s arms. “What am I going to do? How will my babies survive?”

“Slow down and tell me exactly what Dr. Weber said,” he urged.

“I don’t know. Once I heard the word cancer, it was like my brain totally shut down. I was busy telling myself to breathe and trying not to lose my lunch.”

“Do you remember anything he said?” Brian pushed.

Trixie struggled to remember what the doctor had said. “Something about lymph nodes and stages. I don’t remember.” Then as if a light switch had been turned on, she hurried on. “He did give me his card so we could call him later tonight if we have any immediate questions. I also have an appointment tomorrow morning to discuss the care plan.”

“Will you let me talk to Dr. Weber and get some of the details? You know Jim’s going to want to know more and he’s not going to want to wait until tomorrow morning.”

As he spoke Brian again reached for the cell phone that was ever present on his belt and dialed the number. Trixie briefly spoke with Dr. Weber and gave him permission to discuss her case with Brian. When she was done Brian took the phone, listened for a few minutes and asked a few questions before he hung up. After assuring himself that Trixie was buckled in he started the car and pointed it toward Glen Road.

 

 

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