An exquisite little glass pumpkin arrived on my doorstep yesterday morning, a gift from a dear friend in my writers group. It was a magical start to an intimidating day. I spent five hours of it in a series of preoperative meetings at the hospital.

It’s all such a jumble. There were forms to fill out and co-pays to pay. There was an electrocardiogram and two blood pressure checks. Results from more tests were in. Everything looks perfect. I’m the picture of health. Couldn’t the breast cancer be a misdiagnosis? No, it’s all too real. My surgery is scheduled for October twenty-sixth.

I told my physician I expect to spend the twenty-four hours before the operation alternately fainting and vomiting. She told me to listen to the “affirmations CD” the hospital has provided. Apparently jumpy-as-a-cat, Type A persons are not welcome on the surgeon’s table.

The soothing affirmations CD, it turns out, can even be listened to over headphones during surgery. It’s remarkable what’s available these days. I learned that sprays for the tongue can be had to relieve anxiety and help with sleep. I’ll be looking for these in the supermarket today as I wake with panic attacks every night. I have a mortal fear of being cut open with knives.

I asked the surgeon about the chance of cancer recurring with a lumpectomy (tumor is removed) compared with a mastectomy (takes the whole breast). The treatments, she said, are equal. With lumpectomy, the percentage of recurrence stands at between eight and ten. In mastectomy, the percentage is about four. But when cancer returns in the area where a breast has been removed, it will be closer to the bone and more dangerous.

I am blessed in so many ways. I’m an excellent candidate for a lumpectomy. I have a surgeon with a fantastic reputation, someone who is sharp and nice--a rare combination. The survivability for my type of cancer is high. And I have a supportive network of family and friends. Thank you all for being there.