Decisions and Tunnel Vision

We took the report to our school, where the same 3 bigshots awaited us to take us across town to the Breast Cancer Hospital. When we arrived to the hospital, lines of women were waiting to see the 'renowned' breast cancer specialist. But I was taken right in (I still can't tell you why ... possibly because of my visitor status, my age, or even more possibly because I was with higher class people who have money ... and money talks in Korea). The doctor looked over the report and told me a few things, nothing overly useful. He said it was a 7mm tumor, very small, and he suspected that I caught it early. He said that he could set up an immediate appointment for me to have a lumpectomy and radiation treatment. He said he would also do further tests to see if any spreading had occured. The Koreans really made the disease seem rather trivial... like all i needed was a small operation and I would be cured. It made me temporarily hopeful. I asked how much the surgery would be. They said $10,000US without insuarance and approx. $3000 US with insurance (and this was just the surgery alone).

The 3 Koreans who I was, up until this point, thankful for, took me out for lunch for the third time that week and asked me what I was going to do. They seemed very insistent on this. They said they would get me my medical insurance that week (it was in the employment contact anyway) and would accomodate me with time off work. I told them I couldn't decide. At first, the Korean doctors had me convinced that they could look after me with the lumpectomy and radiation, and that I would be on my way in a few weeks. So, naturally, I was considering staying in Korea. But, when I sat down and thought about it, discussed it with Mike and my family, and did some research, I realized that there was no way I could do that. There was no way I could stay in a foreign country where I could understand NO ONE and no one could understand me, where cancer wasn't as common and thus wasn't taken as seriously, and where I had no family and friends for support (and this proved to be the thing that would take me through this disease with flying colours up to this point).

That evening I made my decision. Home I would go. And although I was thoroughly enjoying Korea, I had never wanted to be home more than that day. I had spent years and years away from home. I missed my family and friends dearly, loved Cape Breton, and enjoyed coming home for visits, but this time I longed for it. Suddenly, all the little things in my life that mattered to me before, mattered no more. Money, small tribulations, schedules, time ... all those things meant nothing anymore. The one and only thing I cared about was home. I had suddenly acquired tunnel vision. And within an hour of making my decision, Mike and I were on the computer looking for plane tickets home.

I was blessed to make a friend in Korea named Chris (from Windsor, On.) who was very helpful and sincere. Both his mom and sister had breast cancer, so he knew all about it. He was very encouraging and made me feel hopeful. He looked at me in the eye with all seriousness and said "Melanie, you are going to be perfectly fine. You are going to go home and be with your family and friends, do whatever treatments you need to, and then you are going to come back to Korea and go on living a happy and healthy life." I replied that I "hoped" he was right. His reply was "No ... you don't HOPE you will be ok, you WILL be ok. I KNOW you will and you need to know that too. It is the ONLY way you can possibly think right now." And he was 100% right. He made me want to be positive and to change my way of thinking, and for that I am thankful. He told me he thought I should get home as soon as possible and found us the cheapest tickets on the net. Mike booked them, and by 9pm that same night, we had our Etickets.

We were scheduled to take off from Pusan Thursday in the middle of the night (or, technically, early Friday morning) ... approximately 30 hours from the time we booked the ticket.