Back to reality...
My return to Maryland after an amazing summer in California was not a happy occasion. California is where my entire extended family lives and where I lived for the first 30 years of my life. I have no family here in Maryland except my children and my estranged father...emphasis on "STRANGE!" I took both my boys, Christian & Jake, to California with me for the summer. I wanted them to experience what it is like to have a close-knit family connection. They have never experienced anything like that, and I feel responsible for cheating them out of a very important part of childhood and life by raising them on the east coast, away from any aunts, uncles, cousins, and great-grandparents...emphasis on "GREAT!"
The boys meeting all those relatives was awkward in the beginning, but, by August, my boys had bonded with the entire family! They fit right in like they'd been raised there all their lives! :-)
August and September 2011 were filled with so many changes, career and otherwise, that I would need another blog entirely to fill everyone in.
While away, I did receive a notice in the mail from my breast surgeon. It included a referral for a mammogram to be done in November. Nothing was mentioned regarding the multiple cysts discovered the week before I left. I had thought a lot about them during my vacation, and knew I didn't want to aspirate nine of them. That just sounded like a lot of work and discomfort for not much reason other than my comfort. The biopsies on the larger cysts did sound like a good idea to me, just to make sure they weren't malignant.
Nonetheless, I have procrastination down to an art! So, I didn't schedule that mammogram until November, and I never asked the doctor about doing the biopsies. I figured the mammogram would show anything we still needed to address.
The mammogram was to be on the right breast only, due to the issues with it in May. Unfortunately, or luckily, I felt a painful, solid lump in the left breast, again. So, during the mammogram, I requested she check the left breast. She called my surgeon immediately and obtained permission.
Here we go, again! The technician noticed something "suspicious" on the mammogram of the LEFT breast - the one they weren't even going to check! He ordered a sonogram immediately. Nothing was said regarding what he deemed suspicious. No measurements were taken during the sonogram. The right breast with "multiple cysts" was completely disregarded at this point. All focus had shifted to the left breast.
Next thing I knew, they escorted me out and sent me home. "Your doctor will contact you in a few days."
Again, my need-to-know-RIGHT-NOW gene kicked in. I only had one word to go on, which I overheard as they technician spoke with the sonographer - "Calcification."
I spent hours upon hours each night researching breast calcification. 1) There are generally two types of calcifications, and it DOES make a difference which type they see. 2) The previous lumpectomy could definitely cause the larger calcifications found in areas of healed wounds or incisions that aren't a cause for concern or further investigation. 3) Microcalcifications found in an organized shape CAN be a sign of cancer.
I went for my results from the lab before the doctor ever contacted me. Again, I researched everything written in the lab report. The report stated that mine were microcalcifications, not related to the previous lumpectomy. :-( A STEREOTACTIC biopsy was recommended. No, there's a new word to look up!
A stereotactic biopsy is a very odd, unpleasant procedure! A man had to have been the one to come up with this crazy contraption! If you google images of this you will see what I mean! The woman lays on a table, face down, with her breasts hanging through a hole in the table. The hole in this table was so large that I had to hold myself up in an awkward way, so as not to fall through. While balancing myself over this hole, the technician squeezes what little breast tissue I have between two flat acrylic plates to compress the breast and hold it still while they cut chunks out with a long biopsy tube/knife. During the procedure, they are using an x-ray to see the inside and make sure they are sampling the right area. This procedure is long, for having to hold that position over the hole. You can't see what they are doing under the table at all, at least not in the lab I went to, and your breast is numb. You only feel the "tug" going on while they pull the sample tube in and out.
I had considerable trouble obtaining these results, as the doctor really wanted to meet with me and interpret them together. The problem is that they always have a tight schedule, and can't fit me in for at least a week.
Time to wait another 3 days for the lab results! Waiting, waiting, waiting... YUK!!! I hate waiting!
I picked up my results, and began the research. This lab report was the most complex I'd ever seen. At least 2 out of every 3 words were complicated, medical gobbledygook, that made no sense to me. Nonetheless, i was determined to decipher these results as soon as possible.
The phrase that seemed the most important throughout - atypical hyperplasia - was all over the Internet. The problem was the location of the atypical hyperplasia. "Columnar" was nowhere to be found, at least not phrased with the other scientific words in my report. Atypical Hyperplasia is basically cells dividing, multiplying, building up in an unusual (atypical) way, in larger than normal amounts. This atypical hyperplasia is sometimes a sign that the cells are "getting ready" to morph into cancer.
Atypical Hyperplasia
In my mind, I immediately started trying to create visuals of this. The mucous commercial for Mucinex came to mind. Remember the one with the little green talking cartoon guys setting up their home in someone's nasal passage? If I were an artist, I could really have created some cool illustrations. The pictures in my head were actually pretty funny and at least brought a sense of humor to my thoughts regarding all this craziness.
I imagined little bug like cell creatures setting up for a grand party, hanging streamers and a banner that read "WELCOME HOME CANCER!" and throwing shiny metallic confetti around the room!
To catch you up...
Mammogram (11/2010) = Suspicious Lump = Core Needle Biopsy = Intraductal Papilloma = Excisional Biopsy (basically a lumpectomy) = Getting on with my life! (12/2010)
Following the lumpectomy on my left breast, my wonderful surgeon wanted to have a follow up in 6 months to see how I've healed. I had plans to go to California in June to see my family, so I went in for the follow-up in late May. I was experiencing pain in my right breast accompanied by a small lump or two, but I attributed this all to my usual hormonal surges.
When she examined me, she felt the lumps too, and she had me go to the lab for another mammogram, just on the right breast. This mammogram was as typical as the rest in the way that the technician ordered a sonogram to examine the "dense breast tissue." What was different this time was the length of time in the sonographer measured areas in my breast. It was one measurement after another. I couldn't quite see the screen, but once you've been through enough of these, you know the drill.
At last, the sonographer left the room to check with the technician. The sonographer returned with the technician, who examined me himself as well. He then, very calmly and politely, said,
"You have several cysts, which may be causing your pain. I believe they are benign, and we should aspirate at least 9 of them. Your surgeon may want to consider biopsying the larger cysts, just to be sure."
My brain is racing, and my paranoid, anxiety driven thoughts are getting the best of me - inside:
AT LEAST NINE!!! 9??? What???? How, why, is this normal? It's only been 6 months since they were "fine." Why is he so casual about this? Benign or not, are my breasts just supposed to morph into these giant deformed masses over the next year or two? What am I becoming - an ogre? The Fly? What next? By age 50, I'll be a hunchbacked cyclopse, limping down the street, scaring every man, woman, and child in my path? I have to leave for California in a week! I can't make all these appointments, spend all this time in the lab, or the hospital, bleeding all over the table all summer. He said "probably benign." Should I trust that assumption? What if he's wrong?
On the outside, I remained perfectly calm and cheerful, as he escorted me to the scheduling nurse to schedule the procedures. As I was waiting, I thought, "I have two options right now. Option One: schedule the procedures as soon as possible. This would mean either postponing or canceling my trip to Cali. If he's wrong and this is more, I will be in for a long miserable summer. If he's right, I will be in for a long semi-miserable summer, filled with medical procedures and having missed my trip to Cali. Option Two: Wait! Go to Cali and enjoy some much needed family time with lots of sunshine! Then, come back and do the procedures in September.
It was not a tough decision, but still, it left a small knot in my stomach. I asked the surgeon if 3 months could possibly make a big difference, worst case scenario. She assured me that it wouldn't. I opted to wait until September to address my lumps and bumps! California with my boys was an adventure I wouldn't have traded for the world! :-)
November, 2010...
I went for a "routine" mammogram. This was definitely the beginning of a very rough year, in terms of health and emotional stress.
Due to my family history on my mother's side, I was considered a high risk for breast cancer. Even with this knowledge, I never expected any real problems for the next 20 years. I often had "lumpy" breasts, and breast pain, which seemed to surge on a 30 day cycle. Granted, I had a hysterectomy at 37 years old, and was now on an estrogen patch to ease the surgical menopause I was thrown into. For my height (6 ft.) and frame, my breasts are on the small side. Each mammogram resulted in the technician requesting further pictures and sonograms, due to my "dense breast tissue" - a polite way of saying, "you have tiny breasts with NO fatty tissue."
Back to November - I felt a lump a little smaller than the size of a marble, which seemed to stay longer and hurt more than the usual lumps during my hormonal "swellings." They examined the lump, and decided we should aspirate - stick it with a needle and drain whatever is inside it. Nothing to worry about, right? That's what they said. Piece of cake, harmless, etc. I believed them.
December, 2010...
Being that this seemed very minor and routine, I went to this appointment alone. I arrived at the lab to have the lump aspirated, and was informed that they have already decided to perform a core needle biopsy instead, due to the suspicious nature of the lump. Now, let me tell you, my father has always suffered from a very high level of anxiety. I am, in many ways, my father's daughter! I have tried for years not to let anxiety control me, but right about now, I began to worry...
I wasn't given much time to worry, as they immediately put me on the table and started the biopsy only moments after telling me this lump was suspicious. Already starting to worry about the term "suspicious," I tried to remain calm, lighthearted, and cheerful. The biopsy wasn't too bad, but afterward, they couldn't stop the bleeding through the very small incision. I was lying there awake, watching 3 people press HARD on my left breast for over 20 minutes. The bleeding just wouldn't stop. By the time I got home, my chest hurt like I'd been tackled by a NFL player. I don't know about the rest of you, but this biopsy hurt more than all of the following procedures over the last year. It took a good two weeks for the constant soreness and pain to stop. I felt like a wimpy baby, so I tried not to talk about it much to my family and friends. That didn't stop me from thinking about it constantly.
I was told to wait 2 to 3 days for the results of the biopsy. My anxiety got the best of me, and I called the lab early on until the results were available for me to personally pick up. Normally, they ask you to wait and discuss the results with the doctor. I read it - "Intraductile Papilloma." Of course, I had no idea what that was, so I started researching it on the web. By the time I walked into my doctor's office for the follow-up, I knew all there was to know about the lump in my breast.
She told me that it was pretty bad, and that she needed to remove the area affected. This all happened rather quickly. She had me in the hospital within about a week, and I had it removed. The scar was very minimal, as she cut exactly on the outer rim of my areola. When it healed within about 2 weeks, it was VERY hard to see the scar at all.
I was so happy and relieved. I thought, "This is the end of it. I can relax and get on with my life now." :-)
WRONG...
Welcome!
I started this blog, because I am starting my journey with cancer and cancer prevention at the age of 44. Young? No, but I when I thought of my high odds of getting breast cancer, I always thought I would be at least 70 years old when the time came to face it head on.
"Blogging" is new to me. This is my first blog, and I have only read two other blogs in my entire life. When I began my journey with breast cancer, I really struggled to find information as seen from the patient's point of view. There is plenty of vague, general medical information published by medical professionals, but nothing dealing with what to expect each day during this VERY long process. While nothing is certain, and all people experience this differently, I was sure there were general, even common, issues which women in my position experience.
This brings me to how I came to write this blog. Late one night, I searched the Internet for yet more information on the reconstruction process, specifically the length of time it takes to finally be finished with the whole ordeal. I came upon a terrific blog, told in a very open and honest way, from the woman's point of view! Here it is if you are interested: byebyehooters.blogspot.com
After reading her blog, I decided to write my own, as a remembrance of what I went through emotionally and physically, what I learned along the way, and how I morphed into the new person I would become on the other end of this experience. I hope that this blog helps answer some questions other women might have, and helps them feel as though they are not alone, or downright crazy, for feeling and thinking the things they do.
