Hurry Up and Wait: Waiting for a Cancer Specialist After an Abnormal MRI
- Deborah Ann Martin
- 1 day ago
- 15 min read
After an Abnormal MRI: The Kind of Medical Waiting That Feels Different
Then there is another kind of waiting that begins after an MRI shows several large masses inside your body.
That waiting is different. Waiting for a cancer specialist after an abnormal MRI can be one of the most frightening parts of a cancer journey. You may know that something is wrong, but you may not yet have a diagnosis, a treatment plan, or answers about what happens next. I know because I lived through those weeks of uncertainty while continuing to work, care for my family, and wonder what the future held.
You are no longer wondering whether your symptom matters. You already know something is there. You know it is large. You know it does not belong inside your body.
You may believe it is cancer even though no doctor has confirmed it yet.
But you still cannot give it a name.
You don't know what kind of tumor it is.
You don't know whether it has spread.
You don't know what treatment you will need.
You don't know how quickly anyone can remove it.
All you know is that something is growing inside you, and every part of you wants it out.
That was where I was.
And that period of waiting taught me lessons about fear, faith, family, work, friendship, advocacy, and the importance of having someone who understands what you're going through.
The Long Gap After My MRI
After the MRI confirmed that I had three large masses, I wanted the next steps to happen immediately.
In my mind, the situation was simple.
There were foreign bodies inside my abdomen. They were not supposed to be there. Someone needed to figure out what they were and remove them.
I didn't understand why I couldn't simply go from the MRI directly into a doctor's office and begin making a plan.
That is not how it happened.
I had to return to my regular doctor.
Then I needed a referral.
Then I had to wait for an appointment with a gynecologic oncologist—a physician with specialized training in diagnosing and treating gynecologic cancers.
Each step took time.
The appointment was still weeks away, but the masses were already there every minute of every day.
That was one of the hardest parts.
Nothing inside my body was waiting.
But I was.
How Could They Have Grown So Large?
One thought kept returning to me.
How could something grow so large inside my body without my knowing it was there?
I hadn't been extremely sick.
I wasn't doubled over in pain every day.
I had continued going to work and living my life.
I thought the changes in the size of my abdomen were related to my weight.
The only warning I had noticed was pain during intercourse in one very specific spot.
Had that one spot not hurt, I might not have asked for an ultrasound.
Had I not asked for the ultrasound, I don't know how much longer I would have gone without discovering the masses.
That realization was frightening.
It also made me think differently about listening to my body.
We are often told to listen to our bodies, but our bodies do not always send loud or obvious warnings.
Sometimes the signal is subtle.
Sometimes it seems insignificant.
Sometimes there may be no recognizable warning at all.
For me, there was one small symptom that didn't make sense.
I asked one more question.
That question led to an ultrasound.
The ultrasound led to an MRI.
And the MRI changed everything.
The Unknown Was Worse Than Having a Name
At that point, cancer had not been confirmed.
I couldn't truthfully tell anyone, "I have this type of cancer."
All I could say was:
"They found three large masses, and we don't know what they are yet."
That uncertainty was almost unbearable.
A diagnosis can be terrifying, but a diagnosis also gives you words.
It gives the doctors something to explain.
It gives you something to research.
It may lead to a treatment plan.
It gives you something concrete to face.
I had none of that yet.
I couldn't name what was inside me.
I couldn't explain what treatment I would need.
I couldn't tell my children whether I would need surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, or something else.
I couldn't even tell them with certainty that it was cancer.
Yet deep inside, I believed that it was.
That was my belief at the time, not a confirmed medical diagnosis.
But knowing there were several large masses made it difficult for my mind to imagine anything else.
Everyone Kept Asking for News I Didn't Have
Once a small circle of people knew about the masses, the questions began.
"Have you heard anything?"
"When is your appointment?"
"Did the doctor call?"
"Do they know what it is?"
"When are they taking it out?"
The people asking cared about me.
They were worried.
Their questions were often their way of showing love.
But I didn't have any answers.
Every question reminded me that I was still waiting.
Sometimes I wanted to say:
"I promise I'll tell you when I know something."
I understood why people were checking on me, but repeating the same absence of information became emotionally exhausting.
I was already spending much of each day wondering when the phone would ring.
Then I had to explain the uncertainty again to everyone else.
People often don't realize that asking for updates can place another responsibility on the person who is already frightened.
The patient may feel expected to keep everyone informed while also working, caring for a family, attending appointments, dealing with insurance, and trying to manage their own emotions.
Sometimes you don't need another question.
You need someone to simply say:
"I'm here. You don't have to explain anything."
I Still Had to Go to Work
While all of this was happening, I continued going to work every day.
I was a single mother.
I couldn't afford to stop working simply because I was afraid.
Bills still had to be paid.
My children still needed me.
Work still expected me to show up and complete my responsibilities.
That is another part of waiting that isn't discussed enough.
You may receive life-changing medical news, but the rest of life doesn't automatically stop.
Your employer may still need a report.
Your household still needs groceries.
Your children still have questions.
The car still needs gasoline.
The mortgage or rent is still due.
You may be sitting at your desk doing your job while a frightened voice in your mind repeats:
"There are three masses inside me. When are they going to take them out?"
People around you may see the same person they saw the week before.
They may not realize how much mental energy it takes to act normal when nothing inside you feels normal anymore.
The Coworker Who Understood
One woman at work became especially important to me during those weeks.
She had survived breast cancer.
She had already experienced chemotherapy and many of the things that frightened me.
She knew about side effects, brain fog, shakiness, hair loss, and the emotional strain of cancer treatment.
She didn't pretend to know what my diagnosis would be.
She didn't tell me that our situations were exactly the same.
She simply understood what it felt like to stand near the entrance to the cancer world and wonder what was waiting on the other side.
That kind of understanding was different from sympathy.
People who had never experienced cancer cared about me.
They had empathy.
They wanted to help.
But they often waited for me to explain what I needed.
The problem was that I didn't know what I needed.
I didn't have a diagnosis.
I didn't have a treatment plan.
I didn't know whether I would need help with rides, meals, work, surgery recovery, or chemotherapy.
I couldn't give people a list because I had no idea what my future held.
My coworker understood that I didn't have to have those answers yet.
She could listen to me talk about my fears, my children, the waiting, and the possibility that I might die.
She didn't have a magical sentence that removed the fear.
She had something more realistic.
She had lived through cancer.
And she was standing in front of me.
Sometimes Survival Is the Encouragement
There was comfort in seeing someone who had already gone through treatment and returned to work.
She had faced chemotherapy.
She had lost her hair.
She had experienced side effects and changes in how her brain and body functioned.
Yet she was there.
She was working.
She was talking to me.
Her presence reminded me that cancer treatment could be difficult without automatically meaning the end of a person's life.
She warned me honestly that losing my hair could be hard.
She didn't overwhelm me with every detail all at once.
She told me she would explain more when I reached that part of the journey, should treatment take me there.
That was exactly what I needed.
She gave me enough information to feel less alone without forcing me to live through treatment before I even knew what treatment I needed.
Sometimes hope doesn't come from someone saying, "Everything will be fine."
Sometimes hope comes from looking at someone who has already walked through something frightening and realizing:
"She made it through that part. Maybe I can, too."
She Gave the Masses Names
One of the hardest things for me was not being able to name what was happening.
I knew there were three masses, but I didn't know what they were.
I couldn't say, "This is the cancer I have", because cancer had not been confirmed.
To make the waiting a little easier, my coworker gave the masses names.
I no longer remember the actual names she chose.
They may as well have been Bob, Sally, and Joe.
She would ask:
"How are Bob, Sally, and Joe today?"
When I finally received an appointment, she joked about when I would be "giving birth" to them.
It may sound strange to laugh about masses that could be cancer.
But the humor helped.
She wasn't making fun of my fear.
She was helping me carry it.
For a few moments, those frightening objects inside my body became ridiculous unwanted guests instead of nameless threats controlling every thought I had.
Humor didn't change the MRI.
It didn't make the appointment come sooner.
But it gave my mind a brief place to rest.
Sometimes a few seconds of laughter can be a form of relief when everything else feels overwhelming.
Why Someone With Lived Experience Can Help Differently
This experience reflects one of the reasons I later wanted to build Surviving Life Lessons.
Professional information is important.
Medical teams, counselors, educational websites, and support organizations can provide essential guidance.
But lived experience offers a different kind of connection.
A person who has gone through cancer may recognize the fear that begins before the diagnosis.
They may understand why waiting several weeks can feel unbearable.
They may know what it is like to keep working while wondering whether they will still be alive to watch their children grow.
They don't necessarily need to fix the situation.
Sometimes they only need to say:
"I remember that part."
Those words can make a lonely experience feel a little less lonely.
Peer support should never replace professional medical care.
Another survivor cannot tell you what your diagnosis will be or which treatment is right for you.
But they may offer emotional understanding, practical suggestions, and something incredibly powerful:
the hope that comes from seeing someone who has already crossed a bridge you are approaching.
Preparing for My First Gynecologic Oncology Appointment
When the day of my appointment finally arrived, my oldest son went with me.
COVID restrictions limited who could enter many medical settings at the time, but I was permitted to bring one person to this first appointment.
I chose my oldest son for several reasons.
He had always been interested in nursing and medical subjects.
He was intelligent, observant, and able to understand details I might miss.
Most importantly, I trusted him.
I knew my mind was under too much pressure to process everything alone.
I needed a second set of ears.
That was a good decision.
The National Cancer Institute recommends taking notes, preparing questions, and asking whether you can record a conversation when appropriate. The NCI also notes that bringing someone with you can help you remember what was discussed.
The Foundation for Women's Cancer also recommends bringing a friend or relative to a first gynecologic oncology appointment for emotional support, help remembering questions, and note-taking.
I made one mistake, however.
I didn't bring paper.
I didn't bring a notebook.
I didn't have anything organized for taking notes.
Your Brain Does Not Work Normally Under That Much Stress
Before this experience, I might have assumed I could walk into an appointment, listen carefully, and remember what the doctor said.
That is much harder when your mind is under extreme emotional strain.
My thoughts weren't calmly organizing medical information.
They were repeating one question:
"When are you going to take these things out of me?"
The office needed information about my health and family medical history.
I was trying to remember names, diagnoses, dates, medications, surgeries, and other details while fear filled nearly every available space in my mind.
This is one reason I later created The Ultimate Cancer Guide.
I wanted people to have something they could bring to that first appointment.
A place for their medical history.
Family history.
Medications.
Questions.
Test information.
Appointment notes.
Next steps.
The Foundation for Women's Cancer provides a detailed guide for preparing for a first gynecologic oncology appointment, including medical records, pathology reports, imaging reports, medication lists, medical and surgical history, family history, insurance information, and questions for the oncologist.
You should not have to build an organizational system from nothing while wondering whether you have cancer.
We Were Put in a Room and Forgotten
A nurse took my son and me into an examination room.
Then we waited.
And waited.
An hour passed.
Then more time passed.
No one came in.
When you've already waited weeks to see a specialist, sitting forgotten in a room feels especially cruel.
Every minute seems longer because you believe the person on the other side of the door may finally tell you what is happening inside your body.
Eventually, my son went looking for someone.
He moved from person to person explaining that his mother had been sitting in the room for well over an hour.
Somehow, I had been placed upstairs while my doctor was working on another floor.
No one knew we were there.
After all the waiting to get the appointment, we had reached the office and disappeared inside its system.
My son did exactly what I had brought him there to do.
He noticed something was wrong.
He spoke up.
He made sure I wasn't forgotten.
Eventually, the doctor learned we were waiting and came upstairs.
After weeks of questions, fear, work, phone calls, and uncertainty, I was finally about to hear what she had to say.
What This Experience Taught Me About the Waiting Period
Waiting for a cancer specialist can feel passive, but there are still things you can do.
Choose One Person Who Understands the Updates
Rather than repeating the same information to many people, choose one trusted person to update others.
You can also send one group message when there is actual news.
For example:
"I don't have any new information yet. My appointment is scheduled for ____. I will share an update after I have spoken with the doctor. Until then, I appreciate your prayers and encouragement."
This allows loved ones to care without requiring you to answer the same questions every day.
Find Someone Who Can Listen Without Fixing
A cancer survivor, support group member, counselor, faith leader, or understanding friend may be able to sit with you in your uncertainty.
The right person doesn't need to predict the outcome.
They need to let you speak honestly without making you responsible for calming them.
Prepare Before the Specialist Visit
Bring:
A complete list of medications and supplements
Your personal medical history
Your family medical history
Copies of imaging and test reports when available
Your insurance information
A written symptom timeline
A list of your most important questions
A notebook or organized medical guide
A trusted person who can listen and take notes
The Foundation for Women's Cancer specifically recommends preparing medical records, pathology and radiology reports, medication information, medical and family history, insurance information, and questions before a first gynecologic oncology appointment.
Speak Up When Something Seems Wrong
My son didn't storm through the office making demands.
He respectfully told people that we had been waiting a very long time and asked them to find out what had happened.
Patients can be overlooked.
Records can be delayed.
Messages can be missed.
Rooms can be assigned incorrectly.
Speaking up doesn't make you difficult.
Sometimes it simply reminds a busy system that a human being is waiting.
Questions to Ask Before Your First Oncology Appointment
You can call the specialist's office and ask:
Which medical records have you received?
Do I need to bring copies of my imaging?
Should I bring the actual imaging disc or only the written report?
Will I have an examination during the visit?
May I bring a support person?
May someone join by phone if visitors are restricted?
How long should I expect the appointment to last?
What insurance or referral documents are required?
Is there paperwork I can complete before arriving?
Who should I contact if my symptoms worsen before the appointment?
Then prepare questions for the doctor:
What do the images show?
What are the possible causes of these masses?
Do you believe they could be cancer?
What additional tests do I need?
Will I need a biopsy or surgery?
How soon should the next step happen?
Who will perform the surgery, if surgery is recommended?
What symptoms require urgent medical attention?
When should I expect more definite answers?
Who should I call when new questions arise?
You may not receive an answer to every question during the first visit.
The goal is to leave knowing:
What happens next?
Who is responsible for it?
When should it happen?
The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality's Questions Are the Answer initiative also encourages patients to prepare questions before appointments and actively participate in conversations with their healthcare teams.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
I wish someone had warned me that the weeks between an abnormal MRI and the first oncology appointment could feel like a separate medical crisis.
Nothing was physically being done to me yet, but emotionally, my life had already changed.
I wish someone had told me to prepare my family medical history before the appointment.
I wish I had brought a notebook.
I wish I had known which questions to ask.
I wish I had known that I might hear only part of the answer and need additional testing before receiving the rest.
Most of all, I wish someone had told me that having one person who understood the fear could make an enormous difference.
My coworker didn't cure me.
She didn't name my cancer.
She couldn't make the specialist see me sooner.
But she helped me laugh.
She listened to what I couldn't say to everyone else.
And she stood as living evidence that people can go through cancer treatment and still be standing on the other side.
Sometimes that is the kind of hope a person needs.
Hope While You Are Still Waiting
You may not yet know what the mass is.
You may not know which specialist you need, when surgery will happen, or what treatment may follow.
You may still be working, raising children, caring for other people, and answering questions you cannot answer.
That doesn't mean you are doing nothing.
You are enduring one of the most difficult parts of a serious medical journey:
living your ordinary life while waiting to learn whether that life is about to change.
Find someone who can sit beside you in that uncertainty.
Prepare what you can.
Write down your questions.
Bring another set of ears.
Speak up when you need help.
Pray if faith is part of your life.
And when the fear becomes too heavy, remember that you do not need to carry the entire possible future today.
You only need to reach the next appointment.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is a gynecologic oncologist?
A gynecologic oncologist is a physician with specialized training in diagnosing and treating gynecologic cancers. The Foundation for Women's Cancer explains that gynecologic oncologists can manage care from diagnosis through treatment for gynecologic cancers.
Does being sent to a gynecologic oncologist confirm cancer?
No.
A referral means specialized evaluation is needed. Testing, imaging, examination, biopsy, surgery, or pathology may still be required before doctors can make a definite diagnosis.
An abnormal imaging result does not automatically mean cancer. Further evaluation is often needed to determine what a mass represents.
Why should I bring someone to the first appointment?
Fear and information overload can make details difficult to remember.
A support person can listen, take notes, ask questions, and help you review the conversation afterward. Both the National Cancer Institute and Foundation for Women's Cancer recommend bringing someone when possible.
What should I say when people keep asking whether I have news?
You may set a respectful boundary:
"I appreciate you checking on me. I don't have any new information. I will send an update after my appointment, but repeating the uncertainty is difficult for me right now."
It is okay to protect your emotional energy while you wait.
What can I do if the appointment is weeks away?
Ask whether the office keeps a cancellation list.
Confirm that all records and referrals have arrived.
Ask what symptoms should prompt an urgent call.
Find out who to contact if your condition changes.
Continue following the instructions of your current healthcare provider.
Find Your Community
No one should have to face life's challenges alone. At Surviving Life Lessons, we believe in life survivors helping life strugglers. Explore our growing Community Groups to connect with others who understand your journey, share encouragement, and find hope through meaningful conversations. You'll also have the opportunity to introduce yourself and share your own story of overcoming. Your story matters. It may be the encouragement someone else needs to keep moving forward, reminding them that they are not alone and that hope is always possible.
Your Story Matters
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Drop a comment, Say Hello, and join the conversation.
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References
National Cancer Institute. "Talking With Your Health Care Team."
https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/adjusting-to-cancer/talking-with-your-health-care-team
National Cancer Institute. "Questions to Ask Your Doctor About Your Diagnosis."
https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/adjusting-to-cancer/questions
Foundation for Women’s Cancer. "Your First Appointment."
https://foundationforwomenscancer.org/your-first-appointment
Foundation for Women’s Cancer. "Uterine and Endometrial Cancer."
https://foundationforwomenscancer.org/uterine-and-endometrial-cancer
Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. "Questions Are the Answer."
https://www.ahrq.gov/patients-consumers/patient-involvement/ask-your-doctor/index.html
American Cancer Society. "What to Expect After a Cancer Diagnosis."
https://www.cancer.org/cancer/diagnosis-staging/after-diagnosis.html
About the Author:
Deborah Ann Martin is the founder of Surviving Life Lessons, a published author, poet, speaker, and trainer with over 20 years of management experience across multiple industries. An MBA graduate, U.S. veteran, single mother, and rare cancer survivor, Deborah brings both professional expertise and lived experience to her writing on resilience, leadership, personal growth, and overcoming adversity. Her mission is to empower others with practical wisdom and real-life insight to navigate life’s challenges with strength and purpose.
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