Page 1 of Unraveled

Prologue

Layla

One word. Six little letters. Yet, it packed a punch like I’d never experienced.

Cancer.

I sat in the beige visitor’s chair at UCLA Medical Center and tried to absorb what the man sitting behind the big oak desk was telling me.

How was it possible I had breast cancer? I was twenty-nine years old. I ate healthy, exercised, didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs, and had no family history of it.

Although I’d found a lump ten days ago, scaring me enough to make the mammogram appointment and get the biopsy they recommended, I’d read that four out of five biopsies were benign. I’d soothed my worries by convincing myself I had none of the risk factors. So how the hell could I be the one in five?

My fingers fidgeted with my long black hair while I glanced around the office at the many degrees framed on the walls. I supposed it was my mind’s way of coping with bad news. To simply give in to distraction.

“Layla, are you sure there isn’t someone who can be here with you today?” Dr. Benson inquired.

My gaze landed on him, a man with kind eyes in a weathered face. I’d asked my boyfriend to accompany me, but he’d had an audition for a new television series. Such was the life of a struggling actor here in Los Angeles. To be fair, I hadn’t expected this type of news, so I’d understood Chad missing my appointment.

“No. Um, I’m sorry. I guess I’m in shock. Can you repeat what you said about the diagnosis?”

“It’s okay. Most people in your situation are the same. The pathology shows us that the type of cancer you have is triple negative. Your tumor is grade three. We will have to biopsy your lymph nodes to find out if they are positive for cancer. Triple negative means it’s more aggressive…”

He went on with more details I had a hard time grasping. Something about not having the BRCA gene, and this type of cancer being resistant to typical hormone treatments.

“What is the treatment?”

“We won’t know until after we can stage it. We need to perform a biopsy on the lymph nodes to see if it has spread there. We can do the fine needle aspiration like we did with your tumor, to get a sample for pathology.”

“When should we do that?”

“Tomorrow or Thursday if possible.”

I wasn’t sure what Chad had planned, but hopefully he could come with me. At least it was a same-day procedure and I didn’t have to be knocked out for it.

“After we have those results, we will form a treatment plan, but you’ll want someone to be here with you when we go through it. There are some decisions to be made.”

“Will I lose my breasts?” The thought of losing my very best asset suddenly had me in a panic. I took shallow breaths, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

His hesitation spoke volumes. He’d probably delivered this type of news a hundred times and witnessed varying degrees of people freaking out. No wonder he wanted to have someone else here to help calm me down.

“We don’t know yet. I’ll have the front desk schedule you for the biopsy. In the meanwhile, I have some literature for you to take home and read through about triple negative breast cancer. Talk to your family or friends, then come back here with someone who can help be your advocate. Someone who will help ask questions, express your concerns, and most of all, be here for you.”

Made sense. I wished Chad was here with me right now to help ask questions. Or even better, my brother, Russell. He was the calmest person I knew. But he was up in the state of Washington where I’d grown up, and Chad was at his audition. And I was due to return to work after this appointment. How could I even do that? How would this affect my demanding work schedule?

I nodded, swallowing down the tears. “Thank you.” It seemed a strange comment, but my manners dictated I say something.

“We’ll see each other again soon.”

That was my cue to get up, yet my legs didn’t want to cooperate. Luckily, muscle memory kicked in, and I finally moved.

At the front desk, a woman with the name tag of Mary greeted me with sympathetic eyes. “All right, hon. How is your schedule for tomorrow?”

Packed. Impossible. My boss was already ticked I’d taken this morning off after the two appointments I’d had last week.

“Or how about Thursday, if it’s better?” she offered.

What did it say about my priorities that I was thinking about what I had planned at work or my boss’s reaction instead of a much-needed biopsy to find out if the cancer had spread? “Tomorrow is fine.” I had to make it a priority.