I met with onco-surgeon on the Monday, he told me that I had cancer (thanks, your receptionist took care of that last week) and that the lump appeared to be relatively large. They needed to move forward with treatment asap, starting with a radical mastectomy. They’re not just removing the lump as unfortunately it was too big and too close to the nipple to simply remove it. They don’t think this is something that was caught early; I’ve apparently had it for years, although they can’t tell me how long. At that point I was still asking questions like how I got it, when I got it, what could I have done differently, but the truth is that these are the questions that never get answered. As far as they’ve come with cancer, that aspect still is a mystery and you just have to deal with it however you may. I’ve come to accept this as the reality of my diagnosis but it wasn’t easy to get here emotionally. I’ve learned a lot of myself from this journey and learning to accept what I cannot control has been a big change with me, but it was also an instantaneous change as so many of the changes with me have been. Anyway, back to my first cancer talk with my surgeon. His stance was we needed to act quickly. I was going to have surgery to remove my whole breast. Wow, that was a scary revelation. Then he was recommending that I go through chemotherapy as, because of my age, they wanted to do everything in their power to be sure they got all the cancer. The surgery would remove the tumour, the chemo will kill any microscopic lingering cells that they couldn’t see through tests, etc. Basically, I’m going through something as crazy scary as chemo as a precaution for the future?! But what do you do? I put my life in the hands of my medical team and hope for the best, don’t I? The next step is scheduling the appointment for the surgery.
Fast forward to my next appointment where he tells me when I have my surgery, it’s now scheduled for August 6th, about a month away. At this point, I’m taking all the news I receive in stride. Until of course, at this appointment when I’m being told about my surgery and how I need to prepare for the surgery, the doctor turns and says to me “I think that after surgery is when this news will hit you. I don’t think it’s hit you yet.” This is equivalent to him reaching over his desk and slapping me across the face. I’m listening during the rest of the appointment –kind of- but really I can’t wait to get the hell out of his office. I again find myself biting down hard on the inside of my ravaged lip and it isn’t until I get across the street that I finally release the tears. Shawn -even before the flood gate- knows I’m fuming inside. He says, are you okay darlin'? And out it all comes. I am so angry that he said that to me. WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS? I’m not dealing with the news that I have cancer? Really? Just because I’m not making his receptionists job difficult and still have the ability to make small talk and can still function by putting one foot in front of the other and I’m able to joke around with the staff does NOT mean I’m not dealing with it. I sit in the waiting room and wait to be called and when I am, I say thanks and walk in to his office. I ask him questions relevant to the topic at hand. He's my surgeon, not my bloody psychiatrist! I’m not showing my emotions in these appointments as if I can help it, I’d prefer to deal with the low points by myself. But rest assured, I do realize the enormity of the diagnosis. I have cancer and I can die. Many people die from what I’ve just heard. But how do you function differently than I am? I have cancer but I’m still breathing, I still can walk around and my mental state is perfectly fine, albeit constantly being tested by medical practitioners and their respective staff. How does he expect me to 'deal with it'? Do others walk into his office freaking out, turning in circles and rambling incoherently? Are they inconsolable when they hear the news? I'm just not like that, I try to maintain some composure of myself -especially in public- and I don't share what's on the inside with just anybody on their command. I'll share when I'm good and ready and with whom I choose, right? That hasn't changed about me; it won't change about me! Just how are you expected to act? I am so angry by his statement. I feel that I’ve been dealing with it very well, I feel that I’ve understood what has been told to me but I have chosen to not treat it as a death sentence and to be strong for those around me as well as myself. I'd like to think that when I do wake up in the recovery room without my right breast, I'll be thankful that I no longer have cancer, not feeling sorry for myself that I no longer have a useless boob! I've been actually proud of myself by how I'm 'dealing with it'. By him saying that to me, he took away my power. It can’t be that I’m dealing with it well; it’s that I’m just not dealing with it at all. What a careless thing to say to someone! Shawn immediately knew how upset what he said would make me, and I didn’t have to tell him why I was so upset, he knew. He said “He doesn’t know you darlin’, he had no right to say that to you. He doesn’t know how strong of a person you really are, he just sees you for 10 minutes every appointment and doesn’t know your character and how you are able to deal with this.” That helped a little but really Dr. ____, be careful how flippantly you make comments as ironically now I am really upset, and you’d think it would be from my diagnosis, not from my doctor giving my strength of character and will an unnecessary jab.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
I'm on auto-pilot, Cancer's gonna drive
How did I feel at that point? I really don’t know exactly. I was on auto-pilot. She kept talking about how I shouldn’t go on the internet as it would just work me up and to wait until I spoke with the onco-surgeon before I started doing my own investigating. I had an appointment for the Monday blah blah blah. I hang up the phone, stand up, look around and take a deep breath. I have to mention here that so many people have had very strong opinions on the fact that it was the receptionist who informed me of my diagnosis and that it was over the phone! Remember, I asked her to have that conversation with me and I am grateful to her for doing so. As anyone with a similar experience can attest to, there's no good way or right way to deliver that news and there's no ideal surroundings to be in when you hear it. It just is and I can't imagine having to have waited another 3 days to hear the same words, that would have been much more agonizing. I don't peel a band aid back slowly, I rip it off; same concept here.
On auto-pilot, I pulled my boss out of the meeting he was in, walked with him to his office, went in and closed the door. Out of my mouth came the following: I tested positive. For what, he asked. For cancer. I have breast cancer. He hugged me and was obviously upset, told me to go home and deal with it and he’d wait to hear from me when I was ready. I packed up my stuff and left the office. I wasn’t at this point even allowing myself to think. I was acting matter of fact about it in my head. I stared at my phone for a while. Do I call Shawn and tell him? It was the middle of the afternoon and he was at work. How about my parent’s? My brother? My friends? Where did I go from here? I called Carm first. I told her. She was shocked as I knew every person that loves me would be. We didn’t speak long but now I had the second conversation about this over, it was time to call Shawn. I did and I told him. There was no way around that. I couldn’t call him and tell him to come home as he knew I was waiting for the results and I wouldn’t be able to just not tell him. All he said was “I’m on my way.” We hung up and I kept driving. I pulled in to our driveway just after him. He must’ve flown because I was already on the highway when I called him. There was no way he should’ve got home ahead of me, but there he was. We walked in to the house together and just collapsed into each others arms sobbing. He was so upset and just writing about this is making me upset again, for the first time in the retelling of this journey, certainly not the last time. We cried and cried together and I remember holding him and telling him that this probably wasn’t even the worst thing we were gonna go through together and that everything would be okay. He must’ve felt so helpless and so angry that he couldn’t take this away for me. I was outside when I called my mum. She was obviously very distraught and said she had been so sure it wasn’t cancer! The thing about my mum is that she would appear to the outside world to be pretty soft. My dad, myself, and my brother all have very strong personalities in comparison, but the truth is that my mum is the rock; she’s the glue that holds us together and she’s the strong one, really. She informed me that my dad was going out after work with friends and she didn’t know whether to call him and tell him or not. I asked her not to as I could already see how that would go down. The people close to me are expecting this news, so for my mum to have to call my dad and say come home, but not tell him what was happening just simply wasn’t gonna happen. So, what? She calls him and tells him his only daughter has cancer? And he has to sit on the Go train from downtown to Ajax with that in his head? Say someone brushes against him while he’s going through this and he slams some poor soul against a wall? None of us need that and I just thought that these last few blessed hours of ignorance would be a gift. I’d still have cancer when he got home and I’d still have it tomorrow, why the rush to bring his world crashing down around him? My mum was okay with not having him with her right then, again, tough as nails that woman! She did tell my brother that night, but he waited to call me as I think he just didn’t know what to say to me and what I would be going through right then. I was thankful that my mum told him and not me. I love my brother so so much and we're very close and I know that my brother has always looked up to me and I've looked out for him. I just didn’t know how I’d handle having to tell him that. It wouldn’t have been an easy conversation to get through. I didn’t want to talk to my dad about it at all! I was holding it together relatively well and that would surely come to an abrupt end the moment I had to talk to him. I’m very close to both my parent’s, but my relationship with my dad is different than with my mum. My mum has always been more of a super-cool friend than a 'mum'. I can tell her anything and everything and I do and she gives me good feedback and advice. There are no taboo topics between us, I've tried shocking her my whole life and it's just never happened, which has made it very easy to go to her with any and all issues as she has never judged me for any of it. I can't believe I'm writing this, but whatever, I'll give you an example: At fifteen I asked her what she’d do if I got pregnant. I remember we were driving when I dropped that question in her lap. She didn't even flinch. Keep in mind that I hadn’t even had sex yet and I was asking her this. She simply said that it would be a shock and I said, "Dad would kill me, I’d just have an abortion!" She told me no, not necessarily. Think about it; that would be his first grandchild you were ridding yourself of. At that age, I certainly never thought of it that way, I never thought any further than “My dad would kill me!” about most issues. It was then that I knew if I ever got pregnant by accident, I’d keep the kid. Ironic now that I don’t know if I’ll ever have them, but at 15, oblivious to the fact that I’d one day be dealing with cancer, I knew I’d be a mom. I still know that I’ll be a mom, it’s just whether or not I can give birth that has yet to be answered.
It wasn’t until the next day that I talked to my dad. My mum had told him the night before when he got home, so he had about 12 hours for it to sink in before we spoke. I’m going to keep that conversation private as it just is. It didn’t go quite as bad as I thought it would, he was trying very very hard to be strong which made it very very hard and that’s all I’m gonna say about it. That’s my dad and what he said to me at that point was just for me.
On auto-pilot, I pulled my boss out of the meeting he was in, walked with him to his office, went in and closed the door. Out of my mouth came the following: I tested positive. For what, he asked. For cancer. I have breast cancer. He hugged me and was obviously upset, told me to go home and deal with it and he’d wait to hear from me when I was ready. I packed up my stuff and left the office. I wasn’t at this point even allowing myself to think. I was acting matter of fact about it in my head. I stared at my phone for a while. Do I call Shawn and tell him? It was the middle of the afternoon and he was at work. How about my parent’s? My brother? My friends? Where did I go from here? I called Carm first. I told her. She was shocked as I knew every person that loves me would be. We didn’t speak long but now I had the second conversation about this over, it was time to call Shawn. I did and I told him. There was no way around that. I couldn’t call him and tell him to come home as he knew I was waiting for the results and I wouldn’t be able to just not tell him. All he said was “I’m on my way.” We hung up and I kept driving. I pulled in to our driveway just after him. He must’ve flown because I was already on the highway when I called him. There was no way he should’ve got home ahead of me, but there he was. We walked in to the house together and just collapsed into each others arms sobbing. He was so upset and just writing about this is making me upset again, for the first time in the retelling of this journey, certainly not the last time. We cried and cried together and I remember holding him and telling him that this probably wasn’t even the worst thing we were gonna go through together and that everything would be okay. He must’ve felt so helpless and so angry that he couldn’t take this away for me. I was outside when I called my mum. She was obviously very distraught and said she had been so sure it wasn’t cancer! The thing about my mum is that she would appear to the outside world to be pretty soft. My dad, myself, and my brother all have very strong personalities in comparison, but the truth is that my mum is the rock; she’s the glue that holds us together and she’s the strong one, really. She informed me that my dad was going out after work with friends and she didn’t know whether to call him and tell him or not. I asked her not to as I could already see how that would go down. The people close to me are expecting this news, so for my mum to have to call my dad and say come home, but not tell him what was happening just simply wasn’t gonna happen. So, what? She calls him and tells him his only daughter has cancer? And he has to sit on the Go train from downtown to Ajax with that in his head? Say someone brushes against him while he’s going through this and he slams some poor soul against a wall? None of us need that and I just thought that these last few blessed hours of ignorance would be a gift. I’d still have cancer when he got home and I’d still have it tomorrow, why the rush to bring his world crashing down around him? My mum was okay with not having him with her right then, again, tough as nails that woman! She did tell my brother that night, but he waited to call me as I think he just didn’t know what to say to me and what I would be going through right then. I was thankful that my mum told him and not me. I love my brother so so much and we're very close and I know that my brother has always looked up to me and I've looked out for him. I just didn’t know how I’d handle having to tell him that. It wouldn’t have been an easy conversation to get through. I didn’t want to talk to my dad about it at all! I was holding it together relatively well and that would surely come to an abrupt end the moment I had to talk to him. I’m very close to both my parent’s, but my relationship with my dad is different than with my mum. My mum has always been more of a super-cool friend than a 'mum'. I can tell her anything and everything and I do and she gives me good feedback and advice. There are no taboo topics between us, I've tried shocking her my whole life and it's just never happened, which has made it very easy to go to her with any and all issues as she has never judged me for any of it. I can't believe I'm writing this, but whatever, I'll give you an example: At fifteen I asked her what she’d do if I got pregnant. I remember we were driving when I dropped that question in her lap. She didn't even flinch. Keep in mind that I hadn’t even had sex yet and I was asking her this. She simply said that it would be a shock and I said, "Dad would kill me, I’d just have an abortion!" She told me no, not necessarily. Think about it; that would be his first grandchild you were ridding yourself of. At that age, I certainly never thought of it that way, I never thought any further than “My dad would kill me!” about most issues. It was then that I knew if I ever got pregnant by accident, I’d keep the kid. Ironic now that I don’t know if I’ll ever have them, but at 15, oblivious to the fact that I’d one day be dealing with cancer, I knew I’d be a mom. I still know that I’ll be a mom, it’s just whether or not I can give birth that has yet to be answered.
It wasn’t until the next day that I talked to my dad. My mum had told him the night before when he got home, so he had about 12 hours for it to sink in before we spoke. I’m going to keep that conversation private as it just is. It didn’t go quite as bad as I thought it would, he was trying very very hard to be strong which made it very very hard and that’s all I’m gonna say about it. That’s my dad and what he said to me at that point was just for me.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
"I have cancer??! Oh, okay, thanks for calling..."
I had been taking so much time off from work that it was starting to pile up. I’m an Executive Assistant for a large Internet Consulting franchise company, and I work directly for one of the head honchos who you will undoubtedly hear more about. He has been a catalyst in my ability to cope with what is now my life, but anyway, working for him and the whole department of franchise development has kept me very busy and on my toes for the last year. We had our quarterly breakfast meeting approaching that week, which I organize so I thankfully didn’t have much time to sit around and worry about what was happening with me. I had awards to order, presentations to edit and organize, liaising with the catering dept of the hotel we were holding the meeting at, the DJ to coordinate with, certificates to print, department heads to bother about their deadlines for presentations, you get the gist.
The morning of the breakfast meeting, I was too involved with the day to really concentrate on the fact that either that day or the next would be when I may get a call from the doctor with results. I sat as I always do, right up front with all the big wigs at their table. My boss is the one who emcees the event and does most of the talking, so I’m up there for anything he needs. The awards are being handed out to staff and in my head I’m thinking, “Y’know, I’m handling all this very well, I’m keeping my emotions in check and I’m just being the strong person I am, not letting on at all that this is happening to me. I’m soooo tough!” Of course, that is until the President of our company gets to the podium to hand out the awards and then give out the big FD award, which is the Outstanding Achievement award. From my understanding from my boss, we weren’t giving out that award this quarter as there was really no one in FD that he felt had truly earned it, but he asked me to order one anyway and we’d just get it engraved later if he chose to use it. Made sense. Now I’m sitting listening to my companies President talk about this award, and how the person receiving it is the one who makes (my boss) look good, they don’t have a slide for her in the presentation because she’s the one who puts these presentations together and all this happening as I look around (peripherally of course) to feel 100+ pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head, the red creeping up my neck on it’s way to my face while trying not to notice the owner of my company who’s sitting right next to me smiling at me with amusement at my reaction. Yeah, it’s me. My boss, who knows what I’m going through medically, decides that now’s a good time to make me go to the front of this huge room with all of my co-workers and give an acceptance speech! He must really believe that I’m strong to be able to handle all that, but he’s right, I am strong enough to get up there and accept this award, and that is exactly what I do, even though I’m on auto-pilot and can’t remember the crowds reaction or what exactly I said up there, but I do know that I got a standing ovation (as I was told later). I decided on funny as opposed to endearing ‘cause I didn’t want to cry like a little girl in front of my entire company! Apparently my speech was good; I’ll take their word for it. It was an honour to win that and I do hold a lot of pride for that accomplishment in a company my size.
I went back to the office after the meeting, kept receiving congratulations, feeling embarrassed yet admittedly chuffed about all the attention and recognition. I had to get right back to work as the owner asked me if I’d do an online survey and send it to all, so I tucked my head back into my laptop and went about my business.
I got the call just after 2pm. It was the receptionist at the doctor’s office telling me my results were in and she was going to get me an appointment to go in and discuss the findings. Now, it was Thursday and there were no available appointments for Friday but she would do what she could to get me in on Monday even though she’d had to bump someone else, but in her words she knew I was anxious to hear what was going on so she’d do her best. I asked was there was no way I could get in tomorrow? I didn’t want this plaguing me all weekend! She kinda started fumbling over her words and saying that I knew I’d be getting surgery either way, and the doctor would be discussing this with me and I retorted yes I knew I was getting surgery and I wasn’t concerned about that. All at this point I wanted to know was whether or not I had cancer! She asked me if I wanted her to have that conversation with me now, and I immediately without hesitation said yes, of course! She stated that, well, that I am positive for breast carcinoma aka breast cancer. huh.
Of course today wasn't gonna be remembered as the day I won the Outstanding Achievement Award...
The morning of the breakfast meeting, I was too involved with the day to really concentrate on the fact that either that day or the next would be when I may get a call from the doctor with results. I sat as I always do, right up front with all the big wigs at their table. My boss is the one who emcees the event and does most of the talking, so I’m up there for anything he needs. The awards are being handed out to staff and in my head I’m thinking, “Y’know, I’m handling all this very well, I’m keeping my emotions in check and I’m just being the strong person I am, not letting on at all that this is happening to me. I’m soooo tough!” Of course, that is until the President of our company gets to the podium to hand out the awards and then give out the big FD award, which is the Outstanding Achievement award. From my understanding from my boss, we weren’t giving out that award this quarter as there was really no one in FD that he felt had truly earned it, but he asked me to order one anyway and we’d just get it engraved later if he chose to use it. Made sense. Now I’m sitting listening to my companies President talk about this award, and how the person receiving it is the one who makes (my boss) look good, they don’t have a slide for her in the presentation because she’s the one who puts these presentations together and all this happening as I look around (peripherally of course) to feel 100+ pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head, the red creeping up my neck on it’s way to my face while trying not to notice the owner of my company who’s sitting right next to me smiling at me with amusement at my reaction. Yeah, it’s me. My boss, who knows what I’m going through medically, decides that now’s a good time to make me go to the front of this huge room with all of my co-workers and give an acceptance speech! He must really believe that I’m strong to be able to handle all that, but he’s right, I am strong enough to get up there and accept this award, and that is exactly what I do, even though I’m on auto-pilot and can’t remember the crowds reaction or what exactly I said up there, but I do know that I got a standing ovation (as I was told later). I decided on funny as opposed to endearing ‘cause I didn’t want to cry like a little girl in front of my entire company! Apparently my speech was good; I’ll take their word for it. It was an honour to win that and I do hold a lot of pride for that accomplishment in a company my size.
I went back to the office after the meeting, kept receiving congratulations, feeling embarrassed yet admittedly chuffed about all the attention and recognition. I had to get right back to work as the owner asked me if I’d do an online survey and send it to all, so I tucked my head back into my laptop and went about my business.
I got the call just after 2pm. It was the receptionist at the doctor’s office telling me my results were in and she was going to get me an appointment to go in and discuss the findings. Now, it was Thursday and there were no available appointments for Friday but she would do what she could to get me in on Monday even though she’d had to bump someone else, but in her words she knew I was anxious to hear what was going on so she’d do her best. I asked was there was no way I could get in tomorrow? I didn’t want this plaguing me all weekend! She kinda started fumbling over her words and saying that I knew I’d be getting surgery either way, and the doctor would be discussing this with me and I retorted yes I knew I was getting surgery and I wasn’t concerned about that. All at this point I wanted to know was whether or not I had cancer! She asked me if I wanted her to have that conversation with me now, and I immediately without hesitation said yes, of course! She stated that, well, that I am positive for breast carcinoma aka breast cancer. huh.
Of course today wasn't gonna be remembered as the day I won the Outstanding Achievement Award...
Monday, July 9, 2007
WTF does 'Carcinoma' mean?
When I took my mammogram films home, I of course ripped open the stapled manila envelope so I could see for myself what all the fuss was about. And there they were; all those xrays of my right breast and one xray of my left breast, with a big huge white spot surrounding my nipple on the right, and nothing on my left. My stomach dropped at that point. But still, let’s not get crazy. That could very well be the infection I know I have that I’m looking at; I’m no Doctor and have no idea what is in front of me. There's also no way cancer could be that big, could it? I then pulled out of the same envelope a piece of paper that had the findings of the ultrasound. It was pretty much all foreign to me, at least the first 7 or 8 paragraphs. None of that mattered anyway. All that will ever stick in my head about that piece of white paper was the last sentence, which was bolded, and the gist of it was “mass that is suspicious for primary breast carcinoma.” Not knowing what carcinoma was I went to my computer and googled ‘primary breast carcinoma’ aka cancer. I can’t describe those feelings as I can’t remember them, but they weren’t pleasant, that much I can recall. I started reading what my hits had brought up, and I scared myself into a frenzy with words like survival rate, mortality, new technology to live longer with cancer, just much too much at that moment. I caved and balled; it was a long time coming. Shawn got home and talked me down. He explained that of course it would say that, any lump in your breast would be suspicious for that and not to overreact until there was something to worry about. I am really thankful for his level head in those early days as he was such a calming factor as he never once showed worry, which in hindsight I certainly didn’t need at the time. I decided at that point that I’d stay off the internet as nothing good would come of it, case in point.
I met with the oncologist surgeon, nice enough guy, he said he presumed I’d looked at the report and I confirmed and he told me that he didn’t think it was breast cancer as it didn’t look like it to him, but of course he would proceed in all seriousness to eliminate that as a possibility and would find out what we were dealing with here. I’d be scheduled for an aspiration biopsy.
So I go in and get an aspiration biopsy. It’s explained to me -or shall I say this is how I interpret the following information given to me by the onco surgeon- that there are 3 types of biopsies. 1. Needle biopsy where they go in and take a sample of I guess tissue or liquid or whatever and determine if it shows any sign of cancer, etc. The problem with this is that a needle can only get a small amount and has to be pointed accurately to the spot the cancer is. Basically, if cancer is there but isn’t grabbed with pinpoint precision, it comes back as negative for cancer when in actuality cancer was just to the left. 2. Tissue sample is where they go in surgically and cut some tissue and sample it, which is a good way to do it but a little invasive. 3. This is an aspiration biopsy and is what I opted for as per the doctor telling me this is what I would get. It’s described as a needle with suction that can get more area than a basic needle biopsy and would give an acceptable chance of results and is not invasive at all, just a bit uncomfortable for a second. If it came back as not a concern, they’d then do the tissue sample anyway. Cool.
He was right; it was uncomfortable for a second. It absolutely killed for a second is what happened. He puts the needle in your boob and moves the handle end in and out rather rapidly, to suction out the stuff. Ouch ouch ouch, toes are curled onto the so awesomely placed counter right at the end of the table I was rigid against that I’m pushing my feet with my body weight behind it to lift me up a bit to counteract and react to the pain that I felt. I doubt it was like this for everyone, but it certainly was for me! Although, again, for a second, if that. It was over before I knew it. I braced myself for another wave of pain, but when I finally allowed myself to open an eye, relief coursed through me cuz it was ova. I got dressed and went about my business. I gotta say, for the most part, everything I’ve been going through has been dealt with most efficiently. I’d have to wait about a week to find out the results of this, so I went on with my life.
I met with the oncologist surgeon, nice enough guy, he said he presumed I’d looked at the report and I confirmed and he told me that he didn’t think it was breast cancer as it didn’t look like it to him, but of course he would proceed in all seriousness to eliminate that as a possibility and would find out what we were dealing with here. I’d be scheduled for an aspiration biopsy.
So I go in and get an aspiration biopsy. It’s explained to me -or shall I say this is how I interpret the following information given to me by the onco surgeon- that there are 3 types of biopsies. 1. Needle biopsy where they go in and take a sample of I guess tissue or liquid or whatever and determine if it shows any sign of cancer, etc. The problem with this is that a needle can only get a small amount and has to be pointed accurately to the spot the cancer is. Basically, if cancer is there but isn’t grabbed with pinpoint precision, it comes back as negative for cancer when in actuality cancer was just to the left. 2. Tissue sample is where they go in surgically and cut some tissue and sample it, which is a good way to do it but a little invasive. 3. This is an aspiration biopsy and is what I opted for as per the doctor telling me this is what I would get. It’s described as a needle with suction that can get more area than a basic needle biopsy and would give an acceptable chance of results and is not invasive at all, just a bit uncomfortable for a second. If it came back as not a concern, they’d then do the tissue sample anyway. Cool.
He was right; it was uncomfortable for a second. It absolutely killed for a second is what happened. He puts the needle in your boob and moves the handle end in and out rather rapidly, to suction out the stuff. Ouch ouch ouch, toes are curled onto the so awesomely placed counter right at the end of the table I was rigid against that I’m pushing my feet with my body weight behind it to lift me up a bit to counteract and react to the pain that I felt. I doubt it was like this for everyone, but it certainly was for me! Although, again, for a second, if that. It was over before I knew it. I braced myself for another wave of pain, but when I finally allowed myself to open an eye, relief coursed through me cuz it was ova. I got dressed and went about my business. I gotta say, for the most part, everything I’ve been going through has been dealt with most efficiently. I’d have to wait about a week to find out the results of this, so I went on with my life.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Kelly 1, Mammob*tch 0
Anyway, feeling quite good about what had transpired in that office, I went about my business over that weekend and put my looming appointment to the back of my head. Tuesday morning (after the Canada Day long weekend) I sat in the waiting room facing the same 2 receptionists. I hope I had a smug look on my face and that she felt a little uncomfortable at having to sit there with me facing her. I got called in and went through the mammogram process. Now, it’s not as bad as people make it out to be, but coming back to my point of having small boobs, maybe it’s different when you got DDs being squished, but I was okay. It was actually comical to go through as you’ve got to move in these awkward stances so they can get the angles they need, and there are armrests in weird spots that you only figure out the purpose for as the technician placed my body parts in various positions and then I’d find out that I’m meant to grab these rests for my comfort as I stand still for the technician, who goes out of the room and then comes in once the picture has been taken to rearrange me yet again.
I remember thinking after that visit that something was up. I doubt the technician would’ve viewed the xrays when she left the room (they’re not instantaneous images are they?), but I could swear her mood did change after the first one or two xrays. She got very chatty with me and was watching me –more like studying me- when she didn’t know I could see her doing so. My peripheral is out of this world. I’ll almost always see you first and depending on whether I am in the mood to talk is whether or not a conversation ensues. I've even heard my name being called but didn't bother to look around, so brutal, I know. Let me now apologize to any of you who have passed me and seen me and thought “she didn’t see me,” ahhhhh, yah, I did and for whatever the reason was at the time, I didn’t feel like you seeing that I saw you or even more brutal admittedly, I didn't care. There’s nothing worse than that conversation that happens when you run into someone you’re not in close contact with but you do know. It’s always the same shit and I hate it hate it hate it, so I’d rather you think me a bitch than actually have to go through with the “yes, yes, I work in Mississauga now, uh huh, just bought a house, no I haven’t seen them since high school, nope, not married, sure I’d love to get together with you guys, lemme give ya my number…” Screwwww that nonsense.
Anyway, she asked me “How are you doing with all this” and I staring straight ahead but feeling her eyes on me told her I wasn’t worried and this wasn’t even real to me and I wouldn’t make it that way until I had to. When I was all done with her, I had to wait in those little rooms that are private for you to change in & there’s a curtain and you have a bench to sit on and wait your turn. The mammogram technician, at that point, made me think something was up. She was standing there with me, with her hands together in front of her, making sure I was okay and kinda looking at me weird. Do they normally wait with you or just call the next patient? Was it because I was young (I love saying that!) and I maybe reminded her of her daughter or niece, or did she already know something was up? Am I just imagining that I felt something at that moment? If my diagnosis was different, I probably wouldn’t give any of these hypotheses another thought, would I?
The ultrasound was an entirely different experience. This technician was all business. As I was lying on her table, I had a view of what she was seeing. I asked if what was on the screen –a big black spot- was what I was feeling in my breast, and she said it looked like it. I jovially asked if it looked alright, and she told me she couldn’t talk to me about that. She didn’t want to be rude but she couldn’t comment on any of that. I started to well up which I’m sure was because I was embarrassed by her reaction (the mammogram chick had be so chatty!). Anyway, I choked back tears and tried very hard to just get through the rest of it. She didn’t let on that she knew I was upset. Doesn’t mean she didn’t know I was, but just that she didn’t comment on it and I was thankful of that at least. It wasn’t her fault and she wasn’t at all rude about it, just matter of fact and that’s always acceptable to me, regardless of the reaction I give.
The very next day came the call from my doctor. She left me a message and stated that she wanted to see me that day, if she had no appointments available just tell her receptionist she requested I come in and to make space for me. I left work then and went to her. I was only in the habitually overcrowded waiting room a few minutes before she called me in. “It’s complicated.” Door closes. “There seems to be an infection, as expected, however under the infection they've found a lump.” Gulp. “I’m going to have you see an oncologist surgeon , and he’s very good. He does all my boobs.” She’s so funny and totally doesn’t mean to be. At the time I had no idea what an Oncologist even was, and I still wasn’t worried because everyone up to that point in the medical field did not seem to think I had anything serious to worry about; this was a precaution and another step in figuring out what was there. A few days later came my appointment with the oncologist, but I had to go and get the films and ultrasound results from that mammogram office first.
I remember thinking after that visit that something was up. I doubt the technician would’ve viewed the xrays when she left the room (they’re not instantaneous images are they?), but I could swear her mood did change after the first one or two xrays. She got very chatty with me and was watching me –more like studying me- when she didn’t know I could see her doing so. My peripheral is out of this world. I’ll almost always see you first and depending on whether I am in the mood to talk is whether or not a conversation ensues. I've even heard my name being called but didn't bother to look around, so brutal, I know. Let me now apologize to any of you who have passed me and seen me and thought “she didn’t see me,” ahhhhh, yah, I did and for whatever the reason was at the time, I didn’t feel like you seeing that I saw you or even more brutal admittedly, I didn't care. There’s nothing worse than that conversation that happens when you run into someone you’re not in close contact with but you do know. It’s always the same shit and I hate it hate it hate it, so I’d rather you think me a bitch than actually have to go through with the “yes, yes, I work in Mississauga now, uh huh, just bought a house, no I haven’t seen them since high school, nope, not married, sure I’d love to get together with you guys, lemme give ya my number…” Screwwww that nonsense.
Anyway, she asked me “How are you doing with all this” and I staring straight ahead but feeling her eyes on me told her I wasn’t worried and this wasn’t even real to me and I wouldn’t make it that way until I had to. When I was all done with her, I had to wait in those little rooms that are private for you to change in & there’s a curtain and you have a bench to sit on and wait your turn. The mammogram technician, at that point, made me think something was up. She was standing there with me, with her hands together in front of her, making sure I was okay and kinda looking at me weird. Do they normally wait with you or just call the next patient? Was it because I was young (I love saying that!) and I maybe reminded her of her daughter or niece, or did she already know something was up? Am I just imagining that I felt something at that moment? If my diagnosis was different, I probably wouldn’t give any of these hypotheses another thought, would I?
The ultrasound was an entirely different experience. This technician was all business. As I was lying on her table, I had a view of what she was seeing. I asked if what was on the screen –a big black spot- was what I was feeling in my breast, and she said it looked like it. I jovially asked if it looked alright, and she told me she couldn’t talk to me about that. She didn’t want to be rude but she couldn’t comment on any of that. I started to well up which I’m sure was because I was embarrassed by her reaction (the mammogram chick had be so chatty!). Anyway, I choked back tears and tried very hard to just get through the rest of it. She didn’t let on that she knew I was upset. Doesn’t mean she didn’t know I was, but just that she didn’t comment on it and I was thankful of that at least. It wasn’t her fault and she wasn’t at all rude about it, just matter of fact and that’s always acceptable to me, regardless of the reaction I give.
The very next day came the call from my doctor. She left me a message and stated that she wanted to see me that day, if she had no appointments available just tell her receptionist she requested I come in and to make space for me. I left work then and went to her. I was only in the habitually overcrowded waiting room a few minutes before she called me in. “It’s complicated.” Door closes. “There seems to be an infection, as expected, however under the infection they've found a lump.” Gulp. “I’m going to have you see an oncologist surgeon , and he’s very good. He does all my boobs.” She’s so funny and totally doesn’t mean to be. At the time I had no idea what an Oncologist even was, and I still wasn’t worried because everyone up to that point in the medical field did not seem to think I had anything serious to worry about; this was a precaution and another step in figuring out what was there. A few days later came my appointment with the oncologist, but I had to go and get the films and ultrasound results from that mammogram office first.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
She was gonna deny me a Mammogram because I'm "too young!"
This next part of my story I will be truthful, although I’ve teetered on whether or not to play this up a bit. I’d like to say that I handled this the way people would expect me to handle it, and gave this secretary a piece of my mind, but I never did and I’ve had ample opportunity to. Sorry, getting ahead of myself. As I stood there waiting to be acknowledged by one of the 2 receptionists in the mammogram office, annoyance already building before words were even exchanged, the one on my left held out her hand for the paper I was holding. She looked at it and –finally- looked at me. She asked my birth date, I told her and she starting counting out my age when the other receptionist stated to her that I was 29 but in my 30th year. The one holding my paper stated loudly and full of annoyance and more than just a little irritation, they would do the ultrasound but couldn’t give me a mammogram as you need to be 30 in order to get that. I stared back at her blankly, kept my about-to-bubble-over emotions in check, dutifully bit the inside of my mouth as I always do when trying either not to cry or not to blow a gasket on someone and retorted back that she was holding the paper with my doctors signature and what did she want me to do about it? Now visibly irritated, she muttered about calling the doctor and got on the phone. My doctor picked up and I heard the receptionist tell her how she should know they didn’t do mammograms on people so young! I also heard my doctor tell her in a raised tone that I had liquid leaking from my nipple and they had the paper with her signature and I’d like to think I heard something to the effect of “so schedule the mammogram #*&%^!” Fine, I didn't hear that last part, but whatever she did say had its effect. My now infamous receptionist dutifully went into the back, talked to someone, and came back and booked me for an appointment the very next business day, crossing off the poor mammogram technician’s break.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I'm too young to be worrying about Cancer, right?!
It was in June that I first noticed. I asked Shawn “Is it just me, or does my right boob look even bigger than normal?” My right boob has always been noticeably bigger than my left. This is of course standard however I have small boobs so it’s more prominent visually. But on this day, it seemed strange and when I looked down, it was sticking out further. Shawn said it was probably because I was standing with my one shoulder higher than the other. Bad posture has always plagued me.
We went to Scotland a few days later with my family for my cousin’s wedding.
In the bedroom of my aunt’s house, on our first night there, I felt a mass in my right breast. It didn’t feel like a lump, it felt like a big hard mass. I made Shawn feel it and he could feel what I was talking about, however he thought it was more likely an aggravated muscle than anything I had to worry about. That made sense to me also. Small anxiety at this point, but nothing I was overtly stressing about. The very next night, while taking off my bra, I noticed a fresh stain in my bra. I say fresh because I had also noticed this before now. I remember the week or two before when I saw a small stain in my bra, and felt a sticky substance on my breast. Now, I’m a clumsy and sometimes messy person by nature. Having a stain on my skin, on my clothes or in my hair has never been something to bat an eye at. I just thought, “When did I eat syrup? Huh.” And didn’t give it another thought. But here we are, the week after thinking my boob had grown, a day after feeling a hardening in my breast, and now a fresh stain in my pink bra. I left the room as Shawn was getting into bed and went to the bathroom to do some investigating. I squeezed my boob and out of my nipple dripped a liquid that I can only describe as the same colour as chewing tobacco spit. I am now freaked.
Seeing as it was 1:30am, we had been out drinking and Shawn was going to bed, I didn’t know what to do. Crawling in beside him and forgetting about it wasn’t gonna happen, so I went down to talk with my brother about it. Unfortunately my dad was also awake and I certainly didn’t want to let him in on my newfound crisis, so Craig and I went out for a smoke and I told him. He said he remembered something about a 24 hour nurses hotline in Aberdeen (the part of Scotland we were in), and that I should call. As fate would have it, not only was the internet down, but there was nary a phonebook to be found. They don’t have 911, 411 or 0 for operator so how was I gonna figure this out? What choice did that leave me? My dad who was watching TV in the living room. Being indigenous to the land, I figured he’d know the number I needed to get the number I needed. He didn’t and I still had to tell him what was going on which sucked. I certainly couldn’t call anyone at that time in the morning to ask for such a number so we all continued to take turns pressing random buttons and wiggling various cables to try and get the bloody internet working, Craig as brilliant as he is pointed out that it would only be (at this point) 9:30pm in Canada so he’d call his friend Mike to look up the number. I love you Craig! Of course Mike was working and couldn’t get to a computer so I called my girlfriend Julie, who did find the number I needed to get the number I needed.
They listened to what I was saying and were very understanding and patient and decided that they felt it was serious enough to warrant a Doctor calling me back. She also said that the fact it was leaking “was a good thing” and to try not to stress, which did comfort me at the time.
About 40 minutes later, the Doctor called. She said that it sounded like an infection, but if I went into the hospital she could check it out. Because I was a non-resident, I couldn’t go to a practitioner, it had to be the hospital, and since it was so late they weren’t busy and it would be the best time to come in. I agreed as I wasn’t gonna be sleeping with this on my mind. Shawn and Craig both came with me and I got right in to see the Doctor I had spoken with on the phone. She examined me and said she suspected it was an infection, prescribed me 2 antibiotics that I’d take over the next 7 days, and she gave me a note to take to my doctor once I got home. In and out in 25 minutes (and £80 lighter), I was able to go on with my vacation without this plaguing me.
I dutifully scheduled the doctor's appointment with my “female doctor”. That may sound weird, but I have my regular doctor that I go to for most things, but then I have my woman doctor for woman issues; I’m old school like that. She gave me a breast exam and I remember her face as I was lying down looking up at her, right arm over my head. She gave me what I would describe as a quizzical, a kinda “just what is that?” look. I was reassured that I most likely had nothing serious to worry about, it obviously didn’t need to be said that it wasn’t cancer as 29 year olds just don’t get that. She’d only had one other patient in her years and years of practicing medicine that had ever been my age with cancer, but rest assured she’d keep going with this until we figured out what the hell it was. I love my doctor, she’s exactly the way you want your doctor to be; make a big deal of everything. Nevertheless, I left that appointment a little jarred. I now had my mammogram and ultrasound paper in hand and headed up the stairs to that office to get an appointment scheduled.
We went to Scotland a few days later with my family for my cousin’s wedding.
(pic is my Dad and I at Crathes Castle where the wedding was held)
In the bedroom of my aunt’s house, on our first night there, I felt a mass in my right breast. It didn’t feel like a lump, it felt like a big hard mass. I made Shawn feel it and he could feel what I was talking about, however he thought it was more likely an aggravated muscle than anything I had to worry about. That made sense to me also. Small anxiety at this point, but nothing I was overtly stressing about. The very next night, while taking off my bra, I noticed a fresh stain in my bra. I say fresh because I had also noticed this before now. I remember the week or two before when I saw a small stain in my bra, and felt a sticky substance on my breast. Now, I’m a clumsy and sometimes messy person by nature. Having a stain on my skin, on my clothes or in my hair has never been something to bat an eye at. I just thought, “When did I eat syrup? Huh.” And didn’t give it another thought. But here we are, the week after thinking my boob had grown, a day after feeling a hardening in my breast, and now a fresh stain in my pink bra. I left the room as Shawn was getting into bed and went to the bathroom to do some investigating. I squeezed my boob and out of my nipple dripped a liquid that I can only describe as the same colour as chewing tobacco spit. I am now freaked.
Seeing as it was 1:30am, we had been out drinking and Shawn was going to bed, I didn’t know what to do. Crawling in beside him and forgetting about it wasn’t gonna happen, so I went down to talk with my brother about it. Unfortunately my dad was also awake and I certainly didn’t want to let him in on my newfound crisis, so Craig and I went out for a smoke and I told him. He said he remembered something about a 24 hour nurses hotline in Aberdeen (the part of Scotland we were in), and that I should call. As fate would have it, not only was the internet down, but there was nary a phonebook to be found. They don’t have 911, 411 or 0 for operator so how was I gonna figure this out? What choice did that leave me? My dad who was watching TV in the living room. Being indigenous to the land, I figured he’d know the number I needed to get the number I needed. He didn’t and I still had to tell him what was going on which sucked. I certainly couldn’t call anyone at that time in the morning to ask for such a number so we all continued to take turns pressing random buttons and wiggling various cables to try and get the bloody internet working, Craig as brilliant as he is pointed out that it would only be (at this point) 9:30pm in Canada so he’d call his friend Mike to look up the number. I love you Craig! Of course Mike was working and couldn’t get to a computer so I called my girlfriend Julie, who did find the number I needed to get the number I needed.
They listened to what I was saying and were very understanding and patient and decided that they felt it was serious enough to warrant a Doctor calling me back. She also said that the fact it was leaking “was a good thing” and to try not to stress, which did comfort me at the time.
About 40 minutes later, the Doctor called. She said that it sounded like an infection, but if I went into the hospital she could check it out. Because I was a non-resident, I couldn’t go to a practitioner, it had to be the hospital, and since it was so late they weren’t busy and it would be the best time to come in. I agreed as I wasn’t gonna be sleeping with this on my mind. Shawn and Craig both came with me and I got right in to see the Doctor I had spoken with on the phone. She examined me and said she suspected it was an infection, prescribed me 2 antibiotics that I’d take over the next 7 days, and she gave me a note to take to my doctor once I got home. In and out in 25 minutes (and £80 lighter), I was able to go on with my vacation without this plaguing me.
I dutifully scheduled the doctor's appointment with my “female doctor”. That may sound weird, but I have my regular doctor that I go to for most things, but then I have my woman doctor for woman issues; I’m old school like that. She gave me a breast exam and I remember her face as I was lying down looking up at her, right arm over my head. She gave me what I would describe as a quizzical, a kinda “just what is that?” look. I was reassured that I most likely had nothing serious to worry about, it obviously didn’t need to be said that it wasn’t cancer as 29 year olds just don’t get that. She’d only had one other patient in her years and years of practicing medicine that had ever been my age with cancer, but rest assured she’d keep going with this until we figured out what the hell it was. I love my doctor, she’s exactly the way you want your doctor to be; make a big deal of everything. Nevertheless, I left that appointment a little jarred. I now had my mammogram and ultrasound paper in hand and headed up the stairs to that office to get an appointment scheduled.
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