Beginning The Fight of a Lifetime

A Whirlwind Month

Wow. As I look back over the past thirty days, I can hardly believe it has all even happened, much less that thirty days have flown by. It all started with a meaningful health ritual, the annual mammogram. OK, truth be told, I was a little late this time. I'd always tried to be conscientious about it, particularly given my own mother's 25-year (and ongoing) struggle with breast cancer. But life had been hectic -- we had moved several times, and dealt with some other assorted dramas. 

But I got it done -- the excruciating sandwiching of my breasts between two plexiglass plates, up to a half dozen times by the time they are satisfied with the images. Then I went about my business, vaguely aware that I'd get a form letter in a few weeks saying everything is a-ok.

I only experienced a momentary panic when I got a letter requesting that I come in for some more imaging, and saying that there was a spot they wanted to take a closer look at. Then a very deliberate sentence saying that in most cases, this does not mean cancer. I felt like I was due some good news, so I didn't stress over it too much.

The next few steps happened quickly. For that I was very grateful -- nobody likes the waiting period between tests, and the breast center at our local hospital really seemed to understand that. The same day I had a second mammogram, they got me in for an ultrasound. That still didn't provide the information they needed to "clear" me, so a biopsy of the suspect area was scheduled. 

The Biopsy

To put it plainly, I was scared s***less that morning. I'd gotten the standard "no deodorant, perfume or powder" instructions, and I think I could have really used the deodorant. But once things got going, it really wasn't that bad. They numbed me, first the outer layer of skin, then a little deeper. A lot like a trip to the dentist. So there was no pain to speak of, just some uncomfortable tugging and the daunting knowledge that someone was (assisted by ultrasound) digging around in my boob. Then it was over, and all I had to do was wait.

The Diagnosis -- The Day I Became a Breast Cancer Survivor

I had an appointment with the surgeon to get my results on a Thursday. So when the phone rang and it was she on the phone, I felt a momentary joy. Surely, she wouldn't be calling me with bad results, right? WRONG. My joy turned to fear when I heard the word "cancerous." I didn't hear much more of what she said, only that she wanted me to have an MRI Monday, then come back to see her on Thursday. Then more waiting. 

The MRI showed a "suspicious" lymph node, which would have to be explored further. But that and the size of the tumor (somewhere between 2 - 5 cm) put me at stage 2-B. Specifically, I have triple negative breast cancer, basal subtype. My mind was swimming as the information flew, so it was great that my husband was there. I learned that the recommended protocol would probably be chemo first, then surgery, then radiation. Yippee. The REAL odyssey was about to begin!

About this Blog

I've only told a few people thus far about my cancer. I still can hardly even say / type the word cancer, but I'm trying to get used to it. I plan to use this forum to invite my friends into the story a few at a time. I'm on Facebook, but I'm thinking that's not the right venue for cancer talk. Let's save that for happier news! Above all, I'm not really looking for sympathy. My rewards will come from your prayers and positive energy (every bit helps!), and the knowledge that I might inspire even one person to put her breast health high on her list of priorities. 

I've designated myself a breast cancer "survivor" rather than a victim. The title is usually reserved for the brave ladies like my mom, who have fought the disease for years. But for my precious family, I WILL BE a survivor, starting today!

Next Entries:

The Second Opinion; The Lymph Node Biopsy; Telling the Family; The First Chemo Session