Earlier this year, my husband found..something in my left breast. We weren't sure we were really feeling anything, but I still had an order from my old OB/GYN, I contacted the new one to give a heads up. They said "oh hey, if you have a thing, you need a different kind of test; where are you going, we'll send new orders."
March 13: Mammogram & ultrasound. They confirmed we were right, then a radiologist came in & told me it looked like cancer, I needed a biopsy, but it was too late in the day to get one that day. I spoke to their scheduler who said they could get me in at 12:45 the next day, but she'd call me in the morning once they got an order. Those words - that it looked abnormal, that 95% of things that look like it are cancer were like someone sucked the air out of the room and punched me in the stomach at the same time. I got quiet & I cried. I'd gone to the appointment alone, thinking the best, that it would turn out to be nothing.
(That night, we went to a VIP pre-screening of Tomb Raider in IMAX and IT WAS AWESOME. Not related, but hey, it was a lot of fun.)
March 14 Biopsy day! We showed up to the same place. I was taken back, shown into a room and settled on a table. They had me roll to the right and placed a foam cushiony thing under my left hip. I raised my left arm, my right arm was bent at the elbow, palm resting on my torso, head was propped just so and they said "oh that's perfect, don't move!" So...I didn't. For 25 minutes give or take. The radiologist who oversaw the procedure said that if it was cancer, I'd join a club I never wanted to be part of...and also told me it's extremely common for husbands/partners to find the lumps, it's also how she found hers. By the end of the procedure I was giggly because I kept thinking about how I was laying and also this:
So, I explained this & it got a laugh out of all present. I then was moved to a room to do another mammogram to ensure the small marker they placed was in the right spot. On that wall - a Pre-Raphaelite print that I love that also underscored the whole paint me thing in my head. They kept assuring me they'd call the following day with results for that reason and that I wasn't allowed to shower for 24 hours, I called off work the following day. They never called.
March 16, a Friday. I went to work. I spent all day wondering, waiting. Then, at just after 4 something in the afternoon, my cell rang. Someone said they had a call from a doctor. I accepted & soon I heard a wavery, very old voice (much like Diane Rehm on NPR) come on the line and politely explain that my results were back but it was not good news. She told me I had cancer. Then asked if I was with family, when I replied I was at work she got a bit stammery, realizing the awkwardness of my situation. We hung up. I called Jason & told him. Then went to the bathroom to cry & texted my supervisor who was at her desk. We talked & she offered support and the chance to go home early.
By the end of the weekend, I'd told my family & many friends who I'm close to and volunteer with. The following week, I met with a breast surgeon, had a genetic test, and a breast MRI.
2 weeks later, I had a lumpectomy scheduled for 4/5 and my surgeon called on 4/3 at 7pm from her car to tell me I had a genetic mutation (CHEK2) and we needed to discuss it in the office. Next morning, we went in & after a lot of weighing of odds and scientific evidence, I opted for a bilateral mastectomy. This was a devastating thought for me at the time. I did not want to give up my breasts. I'd spent many years not really liking or resenting their size and had only recently gotten comfortable and now they were going?!? So, I was given info to consult a plastic surgeon on options.
This is enough for now. It's how it started. It felt like a runaway train at first and that feeling continued for awhile.
March 13: Mammogram & ultrasound. They confirmed we were right, then a radiologist came in & told me it looked like cancer, I needed a biopsy, but it was too late in the day to get one that day. I spoke to their scheduler who said they could get me in at 12:45 the next day, but she'd call me in the morning once they got an order. Those words - that it looked abnormal, that 95% of things that look like it are cancer were like someone sucked the air out of the room and punched me in the stomach at the same time. I got quiet & I cried. I'd gone to the appointment alone, thinking the best, that it would turn out to be nothing.
(That night, we went to a VIP pre-screening of Tomb Raider in IMAX and IT WAS AWESOME. Not related, but hey, it was a lot of fun.)
March 14 Biopsy day! We showed up to the same place. I was taken back, shown into a room and settled on a table. They had me roll to the right and placed a foam cushiony thing under my left hip. I raised my left arm, my right arm was bent at the elbow, palm resting on my torso, head was propped just so and they said "oh that's perfect, don't move!" So...I didn't. For 25 minutes give or take. The radiologist who oversaw the procedure said that if it was cancer, I'd join a club I never wanted to be part of...and also told me it's extremely common for husbands/partners to find the lumps, it's also how she found hers. By the end of the procedure I was giggly because I kept thinking about how I was laying and also this:
 |
| Pose not exact but you get the idea. |
March 16, a Friday. I went to work. I spent all day wondering, waiting. Then, at just after 4 something in the afternoon, my cell rang. Someone said they had a call from a doctor. I accepted & soon I heard a wavery, very old voice (much like Diane Rehm on NPR) come on the line and politely explain that my results were back but it was not good news. She told me I had cancer. Then asked if I was with family, when I replied I was at work she got a bit stammery, realizing the awkwardness of my situation. We hung up. I called Jason & told him. Then went to the bathroom to cry & texted my supervisor who was at her desk. We talked & she offered support and the chance to go home early.
By the end of the weekend, I'd told my family & many friends who I'm close to and volunteer with. The following week, I met with a breast surgeon, had a genetic test, and a breast MRI.
2 weeks later, I had a lumpectomy scheduled for 4/5 and my surgeon called on 4/3 at 7pm from her car to tell me I had a genetic mutation (CHEK2) and we needed to discuss it in the office. Next morning, we went in & after a lot of weighing of odds and scientific evidence, I opted for a bilateral mastectomy. This was a devastating thought for me at the time. I did not want to give up my breasts. I'd spent many years not really liking or resenting their size and had only recently gotten comfortable and now they were going?!? So, I was given info to consult a plastic surgeon on options.
This is enough for now. It's how it started. It felt like a runaway train at first and that feeling continued for awhile.
This entry was a rollercoaster ride for me as a friend and reader - I can't BEGIN to imagine what it was like to live it, but you paint a very good picture! (Again with the painting... hahaha I snort-giggled at the visual.) I laughed, I got angry, I was sad. Excellent word picture. ♡
ReplyDeleteThanks! <3 There will be more entries. Next time: breast MRIs and trying to save the nipples!
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