(no subject)
Okay, here's the update I haven't been wanting to do. I should put it under a cut since it got so long and involved. Feel free to skip it if this kind of thing bothers you. I understand completely; I didn't want to write it, why should you want to read it?
Surgery was last Tuesday, the 27th. The procedure itself went fine, although we weren't really sure what we were facing at the time. There was a lump that the ultrasound pinpointed at about an inch and a half. The options were a bit scary and included doing a biopsy, which would have had me waiting around a couple of weeks for results. The only benefit of this would be that I would know before surgery if the tumor was cancerous. The second option was to have just the lump removed and sent off for pathology, with the same results... waiting a couple of weeks for results. If it came back as cancer, I'd have to have a second operation to remove some lymph nodes under the arm to find out if it had spread that far. Option number three was to go in early, get a dose of radiation and during surgery they would do something she kept referring to as a "frozen section" where a pathologist would be right there to tell them if it was cancer or not. If so, they'd go ahead and immediately do the second incision and remove the lymph nodes all in one go. The fourth and most radical option was a mastectomy.
It's odd, as emotional as I am, when it comes down to this kind of thing, I tend to face it in a very practical, workmanlike manner. I didn't get upset. I didn't even flinch when she said mastectomy. She explained that some women, particularly if they've had a recurrence of breast cancer, will opt to have the breast removed because the stress of waiting to see if it will return again is too much for them. She didn't recommend it in someone as young as me, but she had to tell me it was an option.
To my mind, it was obvious instantly that the only logical option was the third. It was practical and would take care of all contingencies with the least amount of fuss. The biopsy wasn't important to the surgeon, she could do everything she needed to do without knowing in advance, the only advantage would be that I would know before surgery. I told her, frankly, I didn't need to know what was wrong with the car, I just needed the car back on the road, so please just fix it.
She scheduled surgery for the following Tuesday, because the results of the mammogram and the ultrasound were inconclusive as to whether or not it was cancer. She told me tumors found on a mammogram are rated on a scale of one to five, one being very unlikely to be malignant, five almost always being cancer. Anything else was iffy. Mine came back as a "four." She said the odds dropped significantly between five and four, but with everything else she factored in, it was still a fifty percent chance it was cancer.
They set me up for the radiation injection the following Tuesday at 8:00 am, with surgery at 9:30am. But to get an injection at 8, one has to be at the hospital at 5:00 am. You know, so you can sit there and fret for three hours...
The next week I spent all my time being completely distracted from thinking about it. My mom fielded all my calls so I didn't have to keep talking about it to my entire family and all my friends. Between The Aardvark, Kathy and my very close internet friends, I managed to keep my conscious mind off of it a lot. Subconsciously however, I was still dealing with it. Hives, lack of sleep, that kind of thing. But what can you do about that? (don't scratch! I ended up keeping a couple of those hives for a few days, dammit. They were stealth hives and I didn't realize what it was until I'd already made enemies with them.)
Day of surgery, my niece Heather drove over, Aardvark took the day off and they kept my mom company while I went through the bizarreness that is radiation and surgery. My doctor told me right before going in that I'd know when I woke up if it was cancer by how many incisions I found. I knew she wouldn't be around to talk to me, because it takes me forever to come out of anesthesia, and I was in the recovery room a long time.
Sadly, I woke up with two incisions. It was cancer.
I spoke with my surgeon the next day, who told me she'd removed some lymph nodes and sent them for pathology. At that time, she was recommending both Chemotherapy and Radiation as soon as I healed from surgery. She'd know more in a weeks time when she got the rest of the reports back. That was Wednesday.
So I saw her the following Wednesday and she told me they removed four lymph nodes, two of which were severely affected. The tumor itself was larger than expected, over two inches in circumference. That placed it somewhere in the mid-range, size wise. I can't imagine anything larger being in there... isn't that about the size of a golf ball? How many people do you know that can hide a golf ball in their breast? My receptionist joked that my tumor was bigger than her entire boob. Crazy girl.
Strangely, the affected lymph nodes were larger. I had no idea lymph nodes were that big. I can certainly understand why my arm feels like it does now, though. Sheesh. And she said they really scouted around in there. It feels like they might have sent an 8 person expedition in. There's a numb area at the back of my arm that will never get the feeling back, and sections of skin that feel burnt. She said that would get better, but hurt now because the nerves were annoyed at me for being stretched during surgery. They should be annoyed at her. I didn't do it.
She set me up with an oncologist at the cancer center, expecting I'll need about six months of chemo and a month of radiation after that, but in the end, that will be the oncologists call after he runs a whole lot more tests to find out if this crap has spread, now that we know it hit my lymphatic system. So it looks like a minimum of 7 months of treatment and more of the waiting game to find out if I still have it and where it might be hiding.
On the positive side, I talked to my boss whose sister is going through the same thing, although she didn't catch it in time and it's now reached her brain. Because it's touched him so closely, he's as supportive as a person can be. My job is secure even though I'm having to take a HUGE leave of absence, since the doctor says I can't be out in public during chemo.
Also, last year sometime, I took out riders to my health insurance including a cancer policy and a disability policy that will pick up the extra expenses my insurance doesn't cover, paying my salary until I'm able to get back to work. See what I mean? My brain just keeps plugging away at the practical stuff. My doctor was pleased to handle the paperwork for all of this so I could take the time off and not worry about it, dedicating myself to just getting better.
I have family and friends all over the world that are praying for me, and I'm certain that's why all of this other stuff is coming together like it is. The good wishes, cards and flowers mean so much, and I can't thank everyone enough, even though I've been virtually silent about it all since I found out; only speaking to a few people that keep me distracted and happy. Fortunately they all understand. It's also bringing my family a little closer, and putting me in touch with people I haven't heard from and thought I'd lost.
So there's the scoop. I still don't know the extent of things, but there's a plan in place and that helps. Thanks to everyone that left comments on the last post. Your support and friendship means so much right now.
Surgery was last Tuesday, the 27th. The procedure itself went fine, although we weren't really sure what we were facing at the time. There was a lump that the ultrasound pinpointed at about an inch and a half. The options were a bit scary and included doing a biopsy, which would have had me waiting around a couple of weeks for results. The only benefit of this would be that I would know before surgery if the tumor was cancerous. The second option was to have just the lump removed and sent off for pathology, with the same results... waiting a couple of weeks for results. If it came back as cancer, I'd have to have a second operation to remove some lymph nodes under the arm to find out if it had spread that far. Option number three was to go in early, get a dose of radiation and during surgery they would do something she kept referring to as a "frozen section" where a pathologist would be right there to tell them if it was cancer or not. If so, they'd go ahead and immediately do the second incision and remove the lymph nodes all in one go. The fourth and most radical option was a mastectomy.
It's odd, as emotional as I am, when it comes down to this kind of thing, I tend to face it in a very practical, workmanlike manner. I didn't get upset. I didn't even flinch when she said mastectomy. She explained that some women, particularly if they've had a recurrence of breast cancer, will opt to have the breast removed because the stress of waiting to see if it will return again is too much for them. She didn't recommend it in someone as young as me, but she had to tell me it was an option.
To my mind, it was obvious instantly that the only logical option was the third. It was practical and would take care of all contingencies with the least amount of fuss. The biopsy wasn't important to the surgeon, she could do everything she needed to do without knowing in advance, the only advantage would be that I would know before surgery. I told her, frankly, I didn't need to know what was wrong with the car, I just needed the car back on the road, so please just fix it.
She scheduled surgery for the following Tuesday, because the results of the mammogram and the ultrasound were inconclusive as to whether or not it was cancer. She told me tumors found on a mammogram are rated on a scale of one to five, one being very unlikely to be malignant, five almost always being cancer. Anything else was iffy. Mine came back as a "four." She said the odds dropped significantly between five and four, but with everything else she factored in, it was still a fifty percent chance it was cancer.
They set me up for the radiation injection the following Tuesday at 8:00 am, with surgery at 9:30am. But to get an injection at 8, one has to be at the hospital at 5:00 am. You know, so you can sit there and fret for three hours...
The next week I spent all my time being completely distracted from thinking about it. My mom fielded all my calls so I didn't have to keep talking about it to my entire family and all my friends. Between The Aardvark, Kathy and my very close internet friends, I managed to keep my conscious mind off of it a lot. Subconsciously however, I was still dealing with it. Hives, lack of sleep, that kind of thing. But what can you do about that? (don't scratch! I ended up keeping a couple of those hives for a few days, dammit. They were stealth hives and I didn't realize what it was until I'd already made enemies with them.)
Day of surgery, my niece Heather drove over, Aardvark took the day off and they kept my mom company while I went through the bizarreness that is radiation and surgery. My doctor told me right before going in that I'd know when I woke up if it was cancer by how many incisions I found. I knew she wouldn't be around to talk to me, because it takes me forever to come out of anesthesia, and I was in the recovery room a long time.
Sadly, I woke up with two incisions. It was cancer.
I spoke with my surgeon the next day, who told me she'd removed some lymph nodes and sent them for pathology. At that time, she was recommending both Chemotherapy and Radiation as soon as I healed from surgery. She'd know more in a weeks time when she got the rest of the reports back. That was Wednesday.
So I saw her the following Wednesday and she told me they removed four lymph nodes, two of which were severely affected. The tumor itself was larger than expected, over two inches in circumference. That placed it somewhere in the mid-range, size wise. I can't imagine anything larger being in there... isn't that about the size of a golf ball? How many people do you know that can hide a golf ball in their breast? My receptionist joked that my tumor was bigger than her entire boob. Crazy girl.
Strangely, the affected lymph nodes were larger. I had no idea lymph nodes were that big. I can certainly understand why my arm feels like it does now, though. Sheesh. And she said they really scouted around in there. It feels like they might have sent an 8 person expedition in. There's a numb area at the back of my arm that will never get the feeling back, and sections of skin that feel burnt. She said that would get better, but hurt now because the nerves were annoyed at me for being stretched during surgery. They should be annoyed at her. I didn't do it.
She set me up with an oncologist at the cancer center, expecting I'll need about six months of chemo and a month of radiation after that, but in the end, that will be the oncologists call after he runs a whole lot more tests to find out if this crap has spread, now that we know it hit my lymphatic system. So it looks like a minimum of 7 months of treatment and more of the waiting game to find out if I still have it and where it might be hiding.
On the positive side, I talked to my boss whose sister is going through the same thing, although she didn't catch it in time and it's now reached her brain. Because it's touched him so closely, he's as supportive as a person can be. My job is secure even though I'm having to take a HUGE leave of absence, since the doctor says I can't be out in public during chemo.
Also, last year sometime, I took out riders to my health insurance including a cancer policy and a disability policy that will pick up the extra expenses my insurance doesn't cover, paying my salary until I'm able to get back to work. See what I mean? My brain just keeps plugging away at the practical stuff. My doctor was pleased to handle the paperwork for all of this so I could take the time off and not worry about it, dedicating myself to just getting better.
I have family and friends all over the world that are praying for me, and I'm certain that's why all of this other stuff is coming together like it is. The good wishes, cards and flowers mean so much, and I can't thank everyone enough, even though I've been virtually silent about it all since I found out; only speaking to a few people that keep me distracted and happy. Fortunately they all understand. It's also bringing my family a little closer, and putting me in touch with people I haven't heard from and thought I'd lost.
So there's the scoop. I still don't know the extent of things, but there's a plan in place and that helps. Thanks to everyone that left comments on the last post. Your support and friendship means so much right now.