My Liver Cancer Blog

A week or so later I met with the surgical oncologist, Dr. C. My husband was away at a conference in Amsterdam, and I had told him not to cancel his travel plans because at the time he left we didn’t know if it was just a hemangioma or something more serious. I initially thought I could handle seeing the surgical oncologist on my own, but as the day came closer, I realized I was very afraid and wanted someone there with me. So two days before the appointment I called my sister and asked her to join me. She got up at 5am to make the 3 1/2 hour drive and get to my appointment on time.

Every appointment so far the news had gotten worse. I went from having gastritis to having an inflamed gallbladder to having an undiagnosed mass in my liver. And this appointment brought even worse news. The mass was likely cancerous, and a particular kind of liver cancer, cholangiocarcinoma (or biliary tract cancer). The surgeon said “cholangiocarcinoma” almost in passing, so quickly that when I looked at the notes my sister had taken, she’d missed it. After the appointment I didn’t remember the exact term he had used, but I knew he had given it a name that began with “chol” and ended with carcinoma.

I was too afraid to try to find it online. In fact, except for going down a deep rabbit hole about gastritis and inflamed gallbladders, I had deliberately not looked anything up. I was too afraid of becoming even more afraid. I did not want to be thrown into despair by terror. I am still very careful about how much I read online about this cancer.

Two things I remember from this appointment. The first is sitting next to the surgeon at his desk as he showed me the CT scan of my liver on his computer. He pointed out the tumor. “It’s so big,” I said, almost in wonder. It was really big. It is really big. Second, my sister hugging me after the surgeon had explained why the tumor was not operable at this time and had left the room. “What would I do without you? What would I do without you?”, I moaned.