The Beginning
I figured I'd write about my situation to help keep people updated and spread awareness about breast cancer. Let me tell you my story...
For the past couple years I had a thickening on my right breast that was looked at in 2004. I had an ultrasound, which found nothing. It was written off as a cyst and nothing to worry about. Then last fall, of 2005, I noticed the thickening changed and figured I should get it looked at. Yet, I always thought it was probably the cyst again. So when I had my yearly at the beginning of January of this year, my doctor suggested I should have it reevaluated. I then made an appointment to see a breast specialist at the end of the month.
I went in for my appointment, and the doctor figured it was a cyst. She said she would draw fluid from it and drain for me. So she tried to do that with a fine needle aspiration and wasn't able to get fluid. So she said she would send in the cells. I should get the results in two days I was told, and it was a Tuesday. I waited and called Thursday, and the nurse said the results weren't in yet, but call back later and a nurse will give me the results. So I didn't think anything of it. I called back later and they still weren't in, so I figured I'd just call on Friday. Then, after the office closed, my mom had just gotten home and received a message on the machine from the doctor to have me call her back. I couldn't call till Friday anyways, but I was getting suspicious with the delayed results and the doctor wanting to speak with me.
Friday morning I called and left my number, since the nurses refused to give me the results over the phone, even though I was told earlier that they would do just that. I went to class, and then office hours for an exam I would have next week, and then I got a call. I rushed out to answer it and just missed it. So I called the office again and was put on hold as the doctor was on the other line. I was anticipating the worst, because deep down I just had a bad feeling. When I was able to talk to the doctor she said the results came back "suspicious for cancer." I asked her what that meant, and she said it means the cells could be something benign like a fibroadenoma, but she also said she didn't want to doubt the abilities of her pathology group. She also wanted to get me in as soon as possible for a biopsy. So I made an appointment for Monday. What a way to start the weekend! I immediately called my mom and she called my dad. It was craziness. But I didn't cry, I refused to emotionally commit myself either way until I knew for sure what the results were.
It was hard telling Doug later that day. I visited Ann Arbor that evening because we were going to a Charity Ball together that night. The anticipation of waiting for the news was everywhere, but we enjoyed the night and had a long talk before bed. We hoped for the best, but also feared the worst.
I read "Kitchen Table Wisdom" over the previous winter break, by a doctor who counsels cancer patients and she would ask her patients to envision their cancer. At the time I read the book I tried to think in my mind if I had cancer what it would be like, and I couldn't come up with anything. Yet, as I remembered this, this weekend, I had an image for it. I was standing at the edge of a cliff, leaning out into the vastness, past the point of no return. If I had it, I thought the cancer is the space, the canyon before me, and it was as scary as hell.
Saturday I went home and when Monday finally came, my mom (after working the night shift) and my dad came with me to my biopsy. My dad sat out in the waiting room and my mom came back with me. It was a biopsy with the largest needle I've ever seen accompanied by ultrasound. There was a mass on ultrasound and the tissue around it looked "funny." It was not a fun procedure, because of the density of a young person's breasts is like puncturing a super ball--lots of tugging--not fun. So my mom asked the doctor what she though, and she said "it doesn't look good." The doctor wanted me to get a mammogram the next day, so I scheduled that and left with a very sore boob. I would find out results within 24-48 hours.
Needless to say, I had an exam the next day, February 7th, 2006. I figured I don't really know anything yet about the results, and it's best just to take it and get it over with. So I went back to Ann Arbor and studied that night as best I could and Doug was there to offer support and keep me focused.
I went and took my exam and tried to stay focused. I then returned to Lansing and just before my mammogram got a call from my doctor. She said she wanted to speak with me afterwards. I didn't ask for the results, I knew in my heart what they were already, and I didn't want to hear it over the phone. So I called my mom and she contacted my dad at work, and they both planned on being there when I met with the doctor.
Getting a mammogram as a young person doesn't diagnostically say much due to dense breasts, but it also hurts like mad because of this. So sore after my biopsy, I had to undergo some major squishing. At first the squish was tolerable, and then the technician screwed another dial and I was squished even more! And then the tech says, "Now hold your breath." Oh my, I couldn't breath even if I wanted to! Then the tech tells me I shouldn't worry too much, 80% of lumps are benign. I told her that I would have to have mine removed though. Afterwards I waited to get the films so I could take them to my doctor, and it was hard sitting in the little room waiting and knowing something big was going to happen.
I took the films to the doctor's office and my mom was there, and shortly after my dad too. And then we waited, and waited and waited, for about a good 40 minutes till the doctor was available to talk. I remember we were called back and we sat in the little examining room, my parents in the chairs and I on the table. When the doctor came in she remarked on how we all still had our coats on. She was always upbeat though. She had some papers with her and then came to my side of the examination table and said, "The results came back as (and she points to the words on the lab report) high grade invasive ductal carcinoma." I finally knew for sure.
At that moment I told myself that I needed to hear and absorb everything that was about to be said, no crying now. She put up the films of the mammogram and it was obvious there was cancer by the diffuse spread of calcifications, a hallmark of cancer growth. We discussed surgery and the fact that I would have to take the next year off to be treated and get well. My dad had a lot of questions, and I was glad because he asked everything I wanted to know but couldn't think to ask at the moment. Surgery was scheduled for that Friday, February 10th.
We walked out, not crying, emotionless. My mom later told me that a nurse told her congrats on the good news, and my told her it wasn't good news. The nurse then apologized a lot. They must see a lot of tears in that office for bad news. Although, the moment we stepped out of the office, I broke down in the hallway, and all I kept saying was I didn't want to die. My mom held me, but my dad said this is why you'll be getting chemo, so that I would live. I clung to that thought to get me through the rest of the day.
More to come...
For the past couple years I had a thickening on my right breast that was looked at in 2004. I had an ultrasound, which found nothing. It was written off as a cyst and nothing to worry about. Then last fall, of 2005, I noticed the thickening changed and figured I should get it looked at. Yet, I always thought it was probably the cyst again. So when I had my yearly at the beginning of January of this year, my doctor suggested I should have it reevaluated. I then made an appointment to see a breast specialist at the end of the month.
I went in for my appointment, and the doctor figured it was a cyst. She said she would draw fluid from it and drain for me. So she tried to do that with a fine needle aspiration and wasn't able to get fluid. So she said she would send in the cells. I should get the results in two days I was told, and it was a Tuesday. I waited and called Thursday, and the nurse said the results weren't in yet, but call back later and a nurse will give me the results. So I didn't think anything of it. I called back later and they still weren't in, so I figured I'd just call on Friday. Then, after the office closed, my mom had just gotten home and received a message on the machine from the doctor to have me call her back. I couldn't call till Friday anyways, but I was getting suspicious with the delayed results and the doctor wanting to speak with me.
Friday morning I called and left my number, since the nurses refused to give me the results over the phone, even though I was told earlier that they would do just that. I went to class, and then office hours for an exam I would have next week, and then I got a call. I rushed out to answer it and just missed it. So I called the office again and was put on hold as the doctor was on the other line. I was anticipating the worst, because deep down I just had a bad feeling. When I was able to talk to the doctor she said the results came back "suspicious for cancer." I asked her what that meant, and she said it means the cells could be something benign like a fibroadenoma, but she also said she didn't want to doubt the abilities of her pathology group. She also wanted to get me in as soon as possible for a biopsy. So I made an appointment for Monday. What a way to start the weekend! I immediately called my mom and she called my dad. It was craziness. But I didn't cry, I refused to emotionally commit myself either way until I knew for sure what the results were.
It was hard telling Doug later that day. I visited Ann Arbor that evening because we were going to a Charity Ball together that night. The anticipation of waiting for the news was everywhere, but we enjoyed the night and had a long talk before bed. We hoped for the best, but also feared the worst.
I read "Kitchen Table Wisdom" over the previous winter break, by a doctor who counsels cancer patients and she would ask her patients to envision their cancer. At the time I read the book I tried to think in my mind if I had cancer what it would be like, and I couldn't come up with anything. Yet, as I remembered this, this weekend, I had an image for it. I was standing at the edge of a cliff, leaning out into the vastness, past the point of no return. If I had it, I thought the cancer is the space, the canyon before me, and it was as scary as hell.
Saturday I went home and when Monday finally came, my mom (after working the night shift) and my dad came with me to my biopsy. My dad sat out in the waiting room and my mom came back with me. It was a biopsy with the largest needle I've ever seen accompanied by ultrasound. There was a mass on ultrasound and the tissue around it looked "funny." It was not a fun procedure, because of the density of a young person's breasts is like puncturing a super ball--lots of tugging--not fun. So my mom asked the doctor what she though, and she said "it doesn't look good." The doctor wanted me to get a mammogram the next day, so I scheduled that and left with a very sore boob. I would find out results within 24-48 hours.
Needless to say, I had an exam the next day, February 7th, 2006. I figured I don't really know anything yet about the results, and it's best just to take it and get it over with. So I went back to Ann Arbor and studied that night as best I could and Doug was there to offer support and keep me focused.
I went and took my exam and tried to stay focused. I then returned to Lansing and just before my mammogram got a call from my doctor. She said she wanted to speak with me afterwards. I didn't ask for the results, I knew in my heart what they were already, and I didn't want to hear it over the phone. So I called my mom and she contacted my dad at work, and they both planned on being there when I met with the doctor.
Getting a mammogram as a young person doesn't diagnostically say much due to dense breasts, but it also hurts like mad because of this. So sore after my biopsy, I had to undergo some major squishing. At first the squish was tolerable, and then the technician screwed another dial and I was squished even more! And then the tech says, "Now hold your breath." Oh my, I couldn't breath even if I wanted to! Then the tech tells me I shouldn't worry too much, 80% of lumps are benign. I told her that I would have to have mine removed though. Afterwards I waited to get the films so I could take them to my doctor, and it was hard sitting in the little room waiting and knowing something big was going to happen.
I took the films to the doctor's office and my mom was there, and shortly after my dad too. And then we waited, and waited and waited, for about a good 40 minutes till the doctor was available to talk. I remember we were called back and we sat in the little examining room, my parents in the chairs and I on the table. When the doctor came in she remarked on how we all still had our coats on. She was always upbeat though. She had some papers with her and then came to my side of the examination table and said, "The results came back as (and she points to the words on the lab report) high grade invasive ductal carcinoma." I finally knew for sure.
At that moment I told myself that I needed to hear and absorb everything that was about to be said, no crying now. She put up the films of the mammogram and it was obvious there was cancer by the diffuse spread of calcifications, a hallmark of cancer growth. We discussed surgery and the fact that I would have to take the next year off to be treated and get well. My dad had a lot of questions, and I was glad because he asked everything I wanted to know but couldn't think to ask at the moment. Surgery was scheduled for that Friday, February 10th.
We walked out, not crying, emotionless. My mom later told me that a nurse told her congrats on the good news, and my told her it wasn't good news. The nurse then apologized a lot. They must see a lot of tears in that office for bad news. Although, the moment we stepped out of the office, I broke down in the hallway, and all I kept saying was I didn't want to die. My mom held me, but my dad said this is why you'll be getting chemo, so that I would live. I clung to that thought to get me through the rest of the day.
More to come...
posted by JD @ 1:12 PM
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