Wednesday, Dec. 6. At work. Phone rings. This is the Women's Imaging Center. The radiologist read your recent x ray and would like to take a closer look. Can you come back in for some repeat pictures? Sure. Can you come in today at 10:30? Ok. I wasn't sure what to think. I mentioned it to Mary and Angela and they looked concerned and I slipped out the door.
Repeated the mammogram. Didn't joke around with her like I usually do. She said, stay un dressed in case we need more, the radiologist is going to read them now. I text Scott and Mom. The gal, Jackie, shows me the mammogram. There are a series of tiny spots that look like sparkles. She said the radiologist is going to come talk to you now. Now? He comes in. All serious. Says I have calcifications in a duct. I had three last year they were so unconcerned about they didn't mention them. I have 7 this year. Wants me to come in next Wednesday for a needle biopsy. What? 80% of these come back normal! he says. They give me all kinds of instructions. I call Scott on the way back to work. The afternoon is a blur. Can't concentrate. I tell a couple of people. When I get home, I walk in the door and into Scott's arms and joke with him, if I have to give up a boob, you have to give up a ball.
Needle biopsy, Wednesday, Dec 13. My job is so stressful I'm actually looking forward to the day off. That's not good. I am sleeping in when Tracy calls and wakes me up with a question anyone else could have answered. Did I forget to tell him about the biopsy? No. I text another person to take care of it. I get up and do my quiet time and take my bath. Scott comes home from a meeting to take me up there, back to the Women's imaging center. Jackie takes us in the room. The machine is there, looks like a regular mammogram machine. She has me change into the gown, takes Scott out into the hallway and shows him where to wait. She does yet another mammogram. Then she lays me down on my side facing the machine, my arm under a pillow, and gives me something to squeeze. We laugh because she has to tape my left boob back out of the way. I tell her to cover up my back fat. She cleans off my breast and puts me in the mammogram machine. Not too tight. The doctor comes in, says he is coming over where I can see him to introduce himself. His face looks kind. He touches my arm gently, caringly, then I close my eyes as he puts in a series of shots to numb my breast. Hurts a tiny bit. Then he goes back over by the screen and I close my eyes again (or do I just imagine) a big needle, more like a drill bit, come down out of the machine and bore into my breast. I'm actually in a field of flowers in my mind. They keep talking to me and it distracts me, I want to stay in the field. When they say I'm done, I open my eyes and my boob is dripping blood and the machine is bloody. Jackie pushes the cot away and presses on my breast to stop the bleeding. She says this is the worst part. She puts a huge ball of gauze and then two giant pieces of tape across my boob that cover everything except the nipple. Nifty. Now I can get dressed and go home. With ice in my bra, too.
We run some errands and then have a regular day at home. Heather comes for supervision. My boob starts aching that evening. I take ibuprofen. Sleep ok. Taking a bath and not getting all that wet the next day was interesting. And all day at work with a giant, swollen, taped up boob. I take all that off Friday morning.
Friday, December 15. Results day. I leave work early and Scott and Mom meet me at the house. I call Women's Imaging at 145. They take a message. I had a choice of who to get my results from and arrange for it to be dr. Welle, the radiologist rather than getting a random call from Dr. sutton, the gynecologist as I've only seen her once anyway. I want to be in control. Dr. Welle calls me back. Says I have mixed results. DCIS, not cancer, 100 curable, but need to meet with a surgeon. They usually do a lumpectomy and then I'll be fine. Hum. My Mom starts listing all the people she knows who've had this. I bark at her. She and Scott talk about other things then she leaves. I take a nap then Scott and I walk the konza. We talk some. I cry some. We hug a couple of times. Not sure what to think. I google DCIS. Means carcinoma. Trying to wrap my brain around all this. I call the kids, tell them.
Monday, December 18. At work. Phone rings, Women's Health Group. Dr. Sutton. Wants to know if it's a good time to talk. I tell her I got my results. Tell her what he said. She says, you have breast cancer. Starts talking about lymph nodes and options and recurrence. Says radiation, chemotherapy, mastectomy. I somehow gather my thoughts and ask her about my hormones. She says stop taking them. I hang up and lose my shit. Sobbing, I run to Angie, the school nurse. She hugs me. She talks sense to me, tells me to hang onto what the radiologist said. I go back to my office, motion for Mary. She comes, closes the door, holds me, tells me to take the rest of the day off. Starts shutting my lights off. I ask her to go get Angela. She comes, closes the door. I am sitting, leaning on her, her arms around me, I cry super hard, say I don't want to do this. She says the sweetest prayer. I grab my stuff, call Scott from the parking lot. He and Hannah are heading out on the Konza but turn back and meet me at the house. They get all philosophical, talk like they know a bunch about all this. Pisses me off. I take a nap exhausted. I did need that cry. When I wake up, they are gone. I text them. They wait and I join them on the konza. Good place for processing all this.
During the wait, I tell tons of people. This is how I deal with things. I get tons of support and love. I've gotten notes, cards, hugs, texts just exactly when I've needed them. It sounds weird to say it, I've got breast cancer.
Friday, December 22, 3:15. Met with Dr. Paul's, surgeon. Scott stays in the room for the breast exam which was awkward. Then the doctor discusses the options which aren't really optional. A lumpectomy and then six weeks of radiation, Monday through Friday, 20 minutes each time, then a drug called Tomaxifen for 5 years. This is a super mild chemo in pill form that blocks estrogen. The lumpectomy isn't supposed to be disfiguring, just maybe a big dent. Then he will check the edges to be sure they got it all. A mastectomy isn't medically necessary or beneficial due to how early we caught it and how contained it is, as well as the type. After all that, there is only a tiny 2 % chance it will ever return. So all of this is good news. I am definetely grateful and thanking Him.
The hardest part besides the scary call from the doctor has been going off my hormones. I feel like my emotions are intensified. I feel irritable, agitated. This is the main reason I went on hormones, that and night sweats and sleeplessness. My hormones had changed a year or so ago and I never got settled on these new ones. And the Tomaxifen is supposed to make those symptoms worse. Ugh. I am praying about that and that my body will adjust quickly to no hormones and that my emotions will settle down.
Through it all, I have felt peace. God has been speaking to me as He always has, telling me it is going to be ok. I knew deep down from the start that I would only have to do a lumpectomy. He gave me the above verse one morning after a couple of sleepless nights. He reminded me of His faithfulness to me, all the amazing blessings He's given me and all the times he's walked with me through difficult times. He meets me right where I am again and again. He has never and will never fail me. Or leave me. This verse helped so much because I realize my faith is in His faithfulness. It isn't a feeling. It's a knowing. This frees me to feel whatever I feel. If I feel like crying just because I have to go through this, it isn't a lack of faith. He understands.
Meanwhile I have a friend who also had a needle biopsy and got similar, maybe slightly less good results. I think of her and will go through this with her which helps. And I think of others who have been down this road only rougher, chemo, no hair. I think of Debbie who lost her battle. And Larry who lost his. I think of Aubree and her epic brave ongoing battle, and I feel courage, strength and gratitude.
So with the support of my family, my friends, and my Big Big God, I plan to kick this C word right in the ASS.
