The last six weeks has been a new whirlwind. On July 2, 2009, my family and I had a quiet day of reflection, for it had been one year since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I was living my "cancer free" life, growing my hair, getting my body back in shape, and finding a new "normal." I had just had my six month check up with my oncologist, and all was good. We all took a deep breath, and my husband and I decided to get away for a night in beautiful St. Michaels.
We had a fun evening planned, and I hopped in the shower to get ready. The soapy water fell down my chest, I was thinking about what a fun night it was going to be ... until I felt something--a tiny pebble--in the exact same "2 o'clock" spot in my right breast where the cancer was a year ago. I froze, and my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. I touched it again, and then quickly moved my hand away. Touched it, and again, moved my hand away quickly. As the shower water rained down on me, the tears of fear immediately started to fall. I don't know what benign feels like but I know what cancer feels like, and this felt like cancer. But how? Last summer I had a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction -- there was no breast tissue there. And I had just finished chemo 7 months ago. Wasn't that supposed to kill any floating cells? I was not going to let it ruin my evening with my husband so I collected myself and got out of the shower.
When I got out of the shower, my husband said, "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." I said, "I just felt something in the shower. I'm sure it's nothing." But minutes later I dialed my breast cancer surgeon and begged to be seen ASAP that week. The earliest they had was Thursday, and it seemed like an eternity.
At last Thursday arrived, and it was great to see my surgeon. Not only do I trust my surgeon, but I really like her as a person. When she felt the tiny pebble she said, "Oh this little thing? Let me get the ultrasound." Minutes later, she came in with her ultrasound machine and took a look at my little tiny lump. Her initial gut reaction was that it was just fluid, and for a minute my mind was at ease. As she got out a large needle to carefully extract the fluid, my heart raced as I laid as still as statue. But I could see the look of concern grow on her face. "This isn't fluid. We should biopsy it." What? Seriously? Tears rolled down my face as I held back the sob. How is this happening...again? She put a STAT rush on it so I could have the results by the weekend.
It was Friday, July 10 around 5 pm, and I hadn't heard any results. Finally, the phone rang, and I had to walk outside to my front yard to get cell reception. "Hi." My body started to tremble as I heard her friendly voice. "It's cancer. I don't know what to say." I didn't either. My husband looked over and saw the calm but constant tears flow down my face as I listened carefully, and he came over to hold me. She had discussed the results with my oncologist, and she was convinced it was a local recurrence. But, to be sure, they had to schedule a PET scan, and immediately started talking about the imminent surgery and radiation that were in my future. There has to be a reason this is happening. I kept reminding myself of that.
Fast forward through that dramatic week. Thankfully, the PET scan came back clean. Thank God it had not spread. There was a last minute opening in the OR, so my surgeon was able to squeeze me in for a partial mastectomy (who knew that was possible after you already had a mastectomy!) and anxillary dissection 1.5 weeks after I received the news. Fortunately I was able to keep my implant in tact. She removed all of my lymph nodes in my right arm...14 total...all clean. I healed pretty quickly after my surgery. I think my body has been through so much in the last year, this was a breeze in comparison. So, in the midst of a shocking diagnosis, we kept getting good news and answered prayers. Technically I'm back to cancer-free living.
The treatment plan for now is 6.5 weeks of radiation. Because this is such an unusual situation, there are a lot of different opinions as to whether I need chemotherapy again. I wish cancer could be treated with a clear end cure. Like when you break your leg, you have a cast, the bone heals and you don't have to worry about your broken leg anymore. Because I am only 37, the doctors want to throw the kitchen sink at me just to be safe. The chemotherapy protocol/cocktail/timing/decision is to be determined. I will be getting a second opinion next week to determine my final treatment plan. I would really prefer not to endure chemo again, but as my dear friend told me, "It's better to have chemo a second time than cancer a third." Perspective. And, I look in the eyes of my ~4 daughter and ~7 year old son, and know they need me around. So I will do what I have to do to ensure a long life with my family.
Overall we're doing fine. We have been enjoying the summer and not letting the "Big C" take over our lives. I am feeling strong again, and am finally back to my pre-surgery workouts. I want to keep my body strong to ensure it can make it through this next battle well.
This should not be happening, but it is. And as I read recently, you can focus on your problems or focus on your purpose. I choose to focus on my purpose. As crazy as this sounds, I have already touched the lives of many with my story, and if I can help people out there, then it offers peace and purpose.
I have an amazing family and circle of friends and a lot to life for. We can do this. Time to dig deep, people. Time to kick the beast once and for all. Every morning I wake up in my home, next to my husband, and hear the laughter and receive the hugs and kisses from my children, I give thanks for all that I have been blessed with.
I have an amazing family and circle of friends and a lot to life for. We can do this. Time to dig deep, people. Time to kick the beast once and for all. Every morning I wake up in my home, next to my husband, and hear the laughter and receive the hugs and kisses from my children, I give thanks for all that I have been blessed with.
And no matter what happens today, I'm alive, and that makes today...A Great Day.
During the winter while I was going through treatment, your story gave me great inspiration. Every so often I still revisit it, especially if it has been a gray day. So yesterday your update took my breath away. We probably know all of the phrases that friends and family have sent our way to keep us keeping on, but you will be on all of my "well wishes and prayers list" and will keep checking in on you. You are absolutely right "this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad."
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