Here's a time-table of what's happened up to this date so we can be all caught up. Late May 2007: Feel a lump in my right breast while showering. Don't pay it much mind.
June 2007: While watching TV with my arm resting up on the couch, I can still feel the lump. Make a mental note to have it checked out.
July 2, 2007: Finally break down and callmy OBGYN. They tell me to come in the next day.
July 3, 2007: OBGYN says, "Yep. There's a lump. I'm sure it's nothing. But we better get it checked out." Not too worried at this point.
July 5, 2007: Go to St. John's Hospital for a mammgram and ultrasound of the right breast where the lump is. Not worried until they call me back in to the ultrasound room for a look at the left breast too. After two hours of mammograms and ultrasounds on both breasts, a doctor calls me into a "couseling room" to tell me she wants to do biopsies of lumps found in both breasts. She tells me there's an "80% chance that they will be benign and it's just done as a precaution." I'm not worried, I'm sure that it's fine.
July 11, 2007: Husband goes with me to the biopsy and waits in the waiting room while they give me a local antisthetic and do needle core biopsies on both breasts. At this point, I'm a little nervous. The biopsy itself is not painful. It's just scary because you're on your stomach with your boob hanging through a hole while people that you can't see poke and prod you from underneath. The worst part was while doing the left breast, the computer broke down. And they proceeded to take the needle in and out until it quit telling them to "shut down."
July 13, 2007: I'm able to shower and remove the dressings from the biopsy sites. It looks as though someone stuck a wooden bbq skewer into each boob. As I get under the shower for the first time since the biopsy, the water burns my skin. It turns out I had a bad rash from the bandages that had been sitting there for so long. Later that day, the caseworker that helped perform the biopsy calls me with the news. The left breast biopsy is benign. The right breast tests positive with cancer. I hand the phone to husband and start to cry. She gives him the name of a surgeon and says she will schedule and appointment for consultation right away. Jim holds me while I cry. He's my rock and after a while, I feel better. Later that night, Jim tells my mom because I can't speak. She's very positive and gives me a hug telling me that everything will be okay.
July 14, 2007: I call my dad and break the news. By now I feel better and can talk about it without breaking down. My dad does not take the news well at all. It's only the second time I've ever heard my dad cry.
July 18, 2007: Jim and I go to the new Springfield Clinic and meet Dr. Wichterman who will be my surgeon. He's nice and explains everything really well. I have Stage II invasive cancer with a tumor that appears to be 2cm big. He tells me there's a 9/10 success rate since they've found it this early. I can either have a lumpectomy (removing the tumor, saving the breast) or a mastectomy (removal of the breast - less chance of recurrance). Since the ultrasound did not show the exact tumor edges, he orders an MRI. Jim is scheduled to visit his daughters in Scotland from July 23 to August 9. I'm supposed to start school on August 16. But after speaking with the doctor, I've chosen to have the outpatient procedure of a lumpectomy followed up by chemo and radiation. He assures me that I should be able to go to school and that Jim should go on his trip. We feel much better.
July 23, 2007 (my 39th birthday): I take Jim to the train station as he leaves for Scotland. He'll be gone almost three weeks. He hates to go, but we've discussed all the options and since it's just outpatient surgery - we decide that he should go. My mom assures him that she'll take care of me while he's gone. Later that day, I go back to St. John's for an MRI. I've never had one before. I knew they put you in a tube but that was it. They ask me if I'm claustrophobic and I say no. It turns out I was wrong. After I'm given an I.V. I'm told to lie on my stomach (this seems a very popular position these days) with my breasts hanging through two holes in a table. After I'm comfortable, he puts ear plugs in both ears to soften the loud noise that the machine makes. He stuffs the table in the tube and suddenly my arms are touching the sides - and he tells me to hold perfectly still. All I wanna do is get the hell out of there. It's too small and I start to have a panic attack. Still, I manage to stay in there, even though my breathing is rapid. Twenty minutes later, he lets me out. He tells me that if I ever need another MRI, to ask for a prescription for a drug called "advaran" to help settle my nerves.
July 25, 2007: Dr. W calls me with the resuts of the MRI. Turns out my tumor is 3.3 cm big, the cancer is going up into the lymph nodes under my arm, and is possibly running down toward the nipple. He suggests a mastectomy to be safe. Time to panic. He asks me to come back and see him the next morning to discuss all the options. I make it through the phone call and have a good cry after. I call Jim and tell him the news. He tells me that he loves me and to have the mastectomy because appearances don't matter as much as my health and he just wants me to be healthy. I decide to go through with the mastectomy.
July 26, 2007 (today): Mom goes with me to see the surgeon while my dad takes Erik to summer camp. [my folks are divorced by the way] Dr. W seems to have changed his tune. Now he's not so insistant that I have a mastectomy. He gives me three options; Option 1) Have a biopsy done of the duct running down to the breast to see if that tissue has cancer. If it doesn't, have the lumpectomy with removal of several lymph nodes under the arm and save the breast. Have chemo and radiation. Recurrance is a possibility down the road in which case the breast would be removed. Option 2) Start chemo and radiation to shrink the tumor, have the biopsy to test the tissue running down to the nipple and if possible, 5 mos. later have the lumpectomy with less of a chance for recurrance. Option 3) Have the mastectomy followed by chemo and radiation. Six mos. later, have reconstructive surgery to restore the breast. I call Jim afterward to tell him what's going on. We're both confused as hell.
Right now: I'm scheduled to meet my Oncologist tomorrow. Her name is Karen and she's at the Springfield Clinic on 7th Street. She's the one that will take care of the chemo and radiation treatments. Dr. W thought I should speak with her since I have no clue what route to take. They all seem the same and I hate each one of them. I don't want to have another biopsy. I don't want a second opinion. Right now I'm leaning toward a mastectomy. But this afternoon I was leaning toward lumpectomy. So I'll see what Karen has to say on Friday and maybe I'll be more sure of myself.
I should note that I'm having some issues. My dad is extremely worried about me and insists on visiting me every day. I love my dad and I appreciate his support, but I don't care who you are - I don't want anyone to visit me every single day. So I told him how I felt, and it hurt his feelings, and he walked out the door. I haven't heard from him since.
Another issue is that I'm very scared about having a mastectomy. Not only will I be bald, but I'll be a bald chick with one boob. I created a new nickname for myself. Boob-icorn. I'll be a bald boobicorn. I consider myself an upbeat person with very little self confidence problems, but a bald boobicorn? Really... I don't know if I'm ready for this.
