October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Trust me, I am aware. This month will see fundraiser benefits, reminders and everything in the world turning Pink. I would like to share my Unwelcome Journey with you. Though I was diagnosed and treated in 2023, my care continues. My goal is to educate and help people who have been touched by Breast Cancer, maybe take some fear out of the words. The following are excerpts from my personal journal. I found writing down my thoughts to be very helpful. Maybe they can help you.
The Day My Life Changed: Diagnosis
1 in 8 women in the US will get breast cancer. That statistic never truly hit home for me. That is, until the summer of 2023. I am a relatively healthy, retired teacher intent on enjoying my retirement as much as possible. I have a multitude of part time jobs to keep me entertained; teaching violin, fiddle player for two local Celtic bands, writing for this paper. I have high blood pressure and asthma, and I am overweight. Aside from that, I am strong, active, and I do try to eat a well-balanced diet. I think of myself as a farm-girl; able to do physical work and think nothing of it. I have recently become a Snowbird and enjoy walking the beach while in the south. I see my GP yearly, and do the required tests, though I am not exactly perfect in the timing of them. Thus, begins a new chapter in my life, a journey for which I didn’t volunteer.
This April, I had my last check-up. As usual, Doc and I went over current medications, discussed my weight (I have always had a weight problem, but that never slowed me down,) and she ordered the standard tests; Mammogram, and labs. My insurance, as most, will only allow the mammogram at the year mark and not a day before, which means sometime in May I should make a call. Well, May was super busy…I had rehearsals for a big gig with the band, Memorial Day picnic to plan, places to go, people to see. In other words, I neglected to schedule my mammogram.
Late June rolls around and I came across the paperwork from Doc. Okay, time to Be an Adult. I scheduled my appointment at the same place I have gone to for years. In, squish, squish again, and out. Okay, for those of you who have never had a mammogram, that sounds a bit…callous. Mammograms are not comfortable. I have large breasts, and to see anything, they must be flattened as much as possible, from multiple views. Mammograms are not comfortable, but they are necessary. The kind people, usually women, who are performing them are sympathetic and gentle, trying to make the best of an uncomfortable procedure. After a few times, this just becomes part of the experience of being a woman. Not worried, I know I am fine, I will get the results in the mail.
That afternoon, I got a phone call from my doctor’s office, not the usual way this goes down. I have an abnormality in my right breast. Though I am told that this is likely just an anomaly (I think she was trying to comfort me) and most women getting this are totally fine, a Diagnostic Mammogram is scheduled. Don’t let the information ruin my weekend, they’ll be in touch with the scheduling next week. This phone call was on June 30, the same day as my mammogram. Hmmm, they are moving kind of quickly. Of course, this isn’t going to ruin my weekend. Yeah, right. It’s going to overshadow my weekend, and the upcoming holiday, too! I do manage to get through the family time without scaring anyone, other than hubs and myself.
So, I am scheduled for the Diagnostic Mammogram, and ultrasound, the next week. Neither one sounds too scary. The mammogram is like the rest I have had, but just a little more targeted. Ultrasound…no problem. It’s messy but not bad. I also must have a biopsy, and schedule a meet and greet with a surgeon, should that be necessary. That is a whole different story.
Trigger warning: the following might be upsetting if you are bothered by needles. I know I am.
So, on Friday, July 14, I am scheduled for a Biopsy. Of course, all the women who have ever had one have to tell me about it. While politely listening, I am trying to cut off my mind, so I don’t go in with preconceived fear. So, naturally, I must share my experience with you!
Hubs takes off work to take me, though I am assured I can do this by myself. Thanks, Hubs, your support is extremely meaningful. I check in and pace the waiting room. A very few minutes later, a kind volunteer comes out and takes me into the back. Now I am on my own. I change, of course the gown doesn’t fit, and await my fate. I try to make small talk with the other women who are also sporting the lovely gowns and receive lame uh-huhs. We are all trying to process this, I guess. The Tech comes in and recognizes me from high school. Oh, thank God, a friendly face in this area of cold technology. She leads me into The Room. My wild imagination is picturing a medieval torture chamber, and to this day I can’t say I was too wrong.
Introductions are made, and I am given a bag with a sports bra, some brochures, and medical supplies that I will need following this procedure. Great, I got a Swag Bag.
The procedure will be done with me in a mammogram vice. First, some Novocain. Yes, please! Numb her up! The techs place my breast in the vice, I mean mammogram, and then squish. With Friend Tech holding my hand (and wiping my tears because I am terrified) out of the corner of my eye I see the doctor putting the needle device into the machine. Then, time for drilling. I turn my head so I don’t watch the needle device puncture me. Scared? Yes! Oh, and the sound it makes as it drills into one of the most sensitive parts of me…But, gotta do it. I am even more scared because my family has a history of cancer. My mom valiantly fought Lymphoma, and it finally took her. I try not to relive those moments as the Doctor is literally taking a piece of me. I am told that they must take tissue from all compass points of the growth. Then they implant a tiny marker for future procedures. Finally, they release my prisoner breast and I can breathe again. Just like a pet, I am chipped. (No, Bill Gates isn’t controlling me, but I did just buy an iPad.)
I am bandaged, informed of care, and home I go to heal and await results. The longest 10 days of my life. I am able to go on with my life as usual, somewhat. After-care was minimal for me, icing and Tylenol. Sleep in the sports bra to minimize bruising. Cool, I can handle this, but my brain is actively running wild. What if, what if, what if…My friends and family are wonderful, offering whatever support I might need. I try not to awfulize what could happen, what only might be. I am totally unsuccessful at this.
Less than a week, I get a phone call from the surgeon. That was fast. Too fast. The Big C. Okay, now what?
The Wait
So, I have cancer. It is hard for me to digest. I am always the helper. I am the go-to, the doer of deeds, as the wizard says. Now, I will be the one needing help. Hard, hard to accept. Turn on the waterworks, I’m a blubbering fool. On, off, on, off. Poor hubs, he is so supportive, but he hasn’t seen me like this since Mom’s battle. He is walking on eggshells around me; trying to respect my emotions, be supportive and NOT SET ME OFF AGAIN.
I have a wonderful support system; I know I can count on them for anything I may need. I will call on you soon. Just, back off a bit right now. Don’t try to cheer me up, don’t offer tired platitudes, just let me rant. Add in “that sucks,” or “that really sucks.” That’s what I need right now, that and some Normal. More than one has offered to set up a GoFundMe. (Why does that have to be so common for people who get sick? Something is wrong here…) I am fortunate enough to be retired and my income will not be impacted by this. Not so much for my nest egg. But what are nest eggs for?
I meet with the surgeon again, to go over the biopsy results. I have ER+,PR+,HER- Invasive Ductal Cancer. (I think I got that right…) It is a common form, and it was caught early-thank you yearly mammogram. All that talking translated in my head to It’s Treatable.
Since it is small, I have been given the choice of masectomey or lumpectomy. At this stage, statistically the outcome is nearly the same. If I choose Lumpectomy, I will need targeted radiation. Either way I likely will need Chemotherapy. He says to think it over, read up on it and gives me an informational brochure, some reliable websites and his personal cell phone if I have any questions. We schedule a surgery date and out the door I go. To face an uncertain future, at least for a few months, and the weightiest decision of my 61 years.
Being a violinist, my thoughts go to which surgery will affect my bow arm the least? Will I be able to scuba dive? Will I lose my hair? (It finally got long!) Which has the least amount of recurrence? Which has the quickest recovery? If I have a mastectomy, do I want reconstructive surgery or would I want a prosthesis. How will my treatment affect my family? Will the little girls be okay knowing that Gramma is having surgery and chemo?
I have called every woman I know that has had Breast Cancer. I have scoured American Cancer Society’s website. I have annoyed the doctor with questions. I have discussed this with my Nurse friends, as well as my GP. Every possible rabbit hole to travel, I have traveled it!
Decision made, I will have a Lumpectomy, unless the Lymph nodes are cancerous, too. (They have to take 1 or 2 out to check.) I chose this because I have always wanted the least invasive anything when it comes to my health. I know I don’t want to go through reconstructive surgery. If I were to have a mastectomy and prosthesis, I likely wouldn’t wear it. At my size, that would make me very lopsided. As my husband says, I would be listing to Port. (We’re boaters…)
Surgery is September 1st. That gives me three weeks to pack in the Normal. Squeeze every bit of Normal out of these weeks that I can. Hang with the grandchildren, have my teen granddaughter braid my hair. Go to Fiddle Camp. Visit friends. Go out and perform at Open Mic. Do some recording with my band mates. Go to jam sessions wherever and whenever I find them. Go boating. Go swimming, now that the biopsy has healed. Go, go, go. And, remember all those projects that I wanted to do this summer? It’s now or not for a long time! I did get the house cleaned, and I DUSTED! (Miracles do occur.)
My frame of mind wanders. Sometimes, I make dark-humored jokes. Sept 1, the T**hits the fan…maybe with chemo I will lose my nasty facial hair (something to look forward to…) If a mastectomy is necessary, at least I will be able to play on the E string without bumping myself with my bow. Then, out of nowhere, I am crying, again. A bit of financial advice here…take out stock in Kleenex.
HAIR, what about my lovely, finally long, hair? I will most likely lose it during chemo. So, I might as well make sure Somebody can use it. I scheduled an appointment with my stylist. Oddly enough, I wanted her to style my hair when it is still long, and have some pictures taken. Then cut it in a short cut, in such a way to send it to Locks of Love. I had better pack Kleenex.
