fight like a girl

SOTD: Melissa Ethridge - "I Run For Life"

Since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, I wanted to share my story. Many people think this is a disease that only affects women over 40, but I am living proof that it can happen to almost any woman.
 
My story begins in the spring of 2002. I was a Junior year at the University of Tennessee and a member of Zeta Tau Alpha sorority. Our national philanthropy is Susan G. Koman For the Cure. Each October we saved lids & volunteered in the survivors tent at Race for the Cure. In April, we participated in 'Don't be a Fool' by handing out self-exam instruction cards to encourage women to do a self-check once a month in the shower.
 
It was around mid-April 2002 while following the instructions on one of those shower cards that I noticed a bump that hadn't been there before. It wasn't very big and didn't hurt, so I didn't think much about it at the time. A few weeks later, I was having my yearly check up and my doctor asked me to feel for lumps and it was still there. She, too, thought it might not be anything to worry about, and given that I was only 21 at the time, she instructed me to keep an eye on it and come back in 6 months for another check up. We didn't attempt a mammogram because, honestly, there wasn't enough there to xray and what little bit was there was still very dense due to my youth, which wouldn't give a very good picture of what was actually in there, anyway. If needed, my doctor explained, an ultra sound would provide a much better image of the mass, but we agreed to cross that bridge in 6 months, if we needed to.
 
I still wasn't overly concerned. I was about to go to DC for the summer to intern with my congressman and I was pretty certain people my age didn't get breast cancer. I made an appointment to return in October for check up and pretty much forgot about it.
 
The summer passed and I returned from DC to start my Senior year. In October, I went back for my scheduled check up. The lump was still there and it felt a little bigger. Despite my age, my doctor expressed real concern with what might be growing inside my chest. She insisted that I schedule an appointment to meet with a specialist at the Knoxville Comprehensive Breast Center (KCBC) to get an ultra sound and second opinion. 
 
About three weeks later, I had the ultra sound. Again, the mass was still there and it was visible on the scans, but there were other factors that didn't provide for a clear cut diagnosis. I had been diagnosed a few years before with Fibercystic Breast Disease, which is basically just lumpy boobs that are worsened by things like caffeine intake. There was a really good chance that the mass was simply a fluid filled cyst, but it was recommended that I get an MRI to determine whether or not it might be something more.  I should have been relieved by the optimism that what I had in my chest was a harmless cyst, but I was actually starting to grow a quite anxious thinking about the possibility that I might have cancer. Not just cancer, but breast cancer. At 22!
 
Another week passed and I had the MRI. I was told it would be a few days before the results would be available, and again, I was told, most likely, the mass was just a cyst and posed potentially no threat. 

By this time it was early December and my classes were all finishing up for the semester. I was just a few days away from closing the books for a much needed winter break. I will never forget, I had three exams in one day and I had just left class for the first of the three. My phone rang. It was the KCBC. My test results had come back and they were informing me that I was scheduled for surgery on December 23. I think, for a minute, the entire world stopped spinning. Not only was I getting the news that I would need surgery (specifically, a lumpectomy to extract the mass for biopsy), but my worst fears were becoming a reality. Forget the all nighter I had just pulled preparing for my other two finals, I couldn't have cared less about my exams at this point. To be honest, I know I took the tests, but I don't actually remember anything else that happened that day. Although, I am fairly certain it was my score on the American Studies final I took half an hour after the call that resulted in my grade dropping from an A to a B- for the semester.
 
The two weeks between the call and my surgery seemed to drag on. Each day I found something new to freak out and obsess over. It started with small things, like rearranging my furniture. A few days later it was midnight run to Wal-Mart to buy paint which was then used to repaint all of the wooden furniture in my bedroom. It's an understatement to say that I've got control issues, but it's absurd the lengths I would go to in order to feel like I was still in control. (Who knew you couldn't use a semi-gloss paint on poly-stained wood without a primer?!? It looked pretty ridiculous when I was finished repainting it, but I told anyone who saw it that the result was exactly what I had hoped for! ) 

I worked at J. Crew part-time for most of my undergraduate years & believe me when I say I broke all kinds of sales records that holiday season. Someone once told me, "If you can't get out of something, get into it." While I'm not entirely sure this is what they had in mind at the time, the general idea helped to motivate sales that generated a couple of gift cards, a really nice silver coffee mug & even a (pink!) cashmere sweater, which I still wear proudly. But I couldn't bury all of my fears in my work...
 
Mini panic attacks had become normal in the days leading up to my lumpectomy. It was nearly impossible to sleep and when I did I had terrible nightmares about losing my boobs, or worse yet, my hair. I had all but convinced myself I would end up with one boob and no hair, thereby securing my future as a spinster. I mean, who would want to marry such a ridiculous mess? Really?!? I wouldn't consider myself vain by any means, but even for someone who's typically not concerned with appearances, the idea of having your image or body altered as a result fighting a disease like this, can be more than unsettling.
 
I didn't share my news with many people. I guess there was part of me that was still in denial, hoping against hope that my worst fears weren't actually coming true and partly, too, because I just felt so overwhelmed with what was about to happen that putting it into words became almost clinical, and this, too, was unnerving. 
 
On December 23, 2002, I checked in to Fort Sanders before the sun had even come up. Terrified, with my mom by my side, I thought about how my life might be changing. In a matter of hours, everything would go back to normal or I would be facing the biggest challenge of my young life. I remember my mom, with tears in her eyes, saying, "everything is going to be okay" and although we both knew she didn't know if this was true or not, it made me feel better. My surgeon, Dr. Webber, who I had only met for the first time about fifteen minutes before when the nurse came in to give me 'a little something for my nerves' resurfaced to announce it was time to get started. He assured us that everything would be fine & that he had done this procedure hundreds of times. He told my mom that he would keep her updated every half hour until she could be with me again in recovery. With that, she squeezed my hand and kissed my forehead and I was taken to the OR. Another sedative was administered through my IV followed by an oxygen mask and the request that I count backward from ten. I don't remember anything past the 10, 9, 8...  and then, about 6 hours later, I began to wake up.

I am told I had a difficult time waking up from the anesthesia,  although, the only thing I can really remember from the day of my surgery was a conversation I overheard in the recovery room between Dr. Webber & my mom. At the time, I only made out a few words...removed, tumor, duct & cyst. I would learn later that the actual exchange went a little more like this:

Dr Webber: As we expected, the lump was actually a cyst.
Mom: So, there's nothing to worry about?!?
Dr: When we removed the cyst, we discovered the tumor growing behind it within the duct.
M: What does this mean?
Dr: It explains the inconsistencies in all the tests we ran before and I believe we've removed it all. We need to run some labs, but in a few days we should know more. For now, she should just rest & I will check on her in a day & two. 

And with that, and another hour or two in recovery, I was discharged. 

Since it was just a couple of days before Christmas, mom drove me back to her house in Crossville. I was determined not to let it get the best of me, and despite strong urgings from nearly every person in my life to wait, I insisted on returning to work for the 5am shift the day after Christmas. I did nothing but sleep for the next two days; on Christmas Eve, Dr. Webber called to check on my recovery post-op. He assured me that all things considered, I was in good shape & that he would call again in a few days with my lab results. I celebrated the baby Jesus with my family on the 25th and returned to Knoxville that night to prepare for work the following day. 

If you are squeamish or easy embarrassed, you might want to skip to the next paragraph...okay...you've been warned. The location of the incision couldn't have been more ideal, at least from the standpoint of the surgery & recovery. If you were to place your hand over your heart, as if to say the pledge of allegiance, the area just beside your pinkie finger, near the top outside corner of the left breast, was the location of the mass. Today it's the home of a pretty ugly scar, that at the time, I was promised would one day look like any other stretch mark. I guess they didn't expect me to lose 80 lbs in the two years that followed, but I digress. As with any surgery like this, after the masses were extracted, I had a few stitches and every few hours I would have to change the bandages. Considering I was still taking pain medication, it was probably not very smart to go back to work so soon, but I am nothing if not persistent. I think I made it until about noon before I threw in the towel. I was in so much pain I could hardly see straight. Despite my determination to not be held back, I conceded that I might need a few more days to recoup before jumping back into my old life at full force. 

It was about a week after surgery when I got the call I had been waiting for...my labs were back...and the news was really good! The tumor appeared to be benign (ductal carcinoma aka: DCIS) & because we caught it early, there was little chance that it would return following my treatment. This is the short story, of course, but in a couple of weeks I was scheduled to return to Dr. Webber's office at KCBC where we would follow up on new labs & make plans for radiation therapy. Although I wasn't thrilled with the idea of radiation treatments, I was relieved to know that we were no longer considering a worst case scenario situation. 

A few days before the follow-up consult, I went in for new scans & blood-work. Much to my surprise, when Dr. Webber came in for my appointment he gave me the best possible news, almost a month after surgery, my scans were completely clean & my blood-work was excellent! Other than one duct on the lower side of my left breast, which would need to be monitored each year for potential changes or growths, it looked as though I was out of the woods. And perhaps the best news of all, I didn't need the radiation therapy. We made plans to follow-up again in two months (in March), and then again three months later (in June) and then one last time six months after that (in December). Each time, all of my scans came back clean. 

At one of my follow-up appointments I mentioned to Dr. Webber that I was so lucky that I never actually had breast cancer. I will never forget the look on his face when he turned to me and said, in the most serious voice I ever heard him use, "just because you didn't have to fight, doesn't mean it wasn't there," he went on the explain that although I had a considerably easy battle, which is not typical of the average patient, had I not caught it so early, had I waited until I was 35 or 40 to get my first mammogram, the likelihood that I would beat it was less than half & I would've most likely lost one, if not both my breasts. After everything I had gone through, this was the first time I really accepted that I was a survivor, and one of the luckiest, at that! 

My annual check-ups never cease to raise a few eyebrows and inevitably at least one of the other (older) women in the waiting room will ask me what on earth I'm doing there. I always smile when this happens because I know that the next time they talk to their daughter or best friend, they are probably going to tell my story, and it will probably start with "...you are never going to believe how young this girl I met in the waiting room at the breast center was...!" Eventually my youth won't stand out, but for now, I don't mind the stares & extra attention, especially if it helps others realize they, or someone they love, might be at risk.

I regret that I didn't share my story with more of my friends earlier. If I had told more people 9 years ago when I was living it, who knows how many people might have discovered a potential risk and taken measures to ensure their future breast health? My hope is that young women will understand this isn't always a disease that strikes later in life. With the technology available today, there is no reason the women of my generation should have to fight the way our mothers & grandmothers have. You can get more information about breast health & ways you can help in the fight against breast cancer by visiting ww5.komen.org (Susan G Komen) and www.knoxvillebreastcenter.com (Knoxville Comprehensive Breast Center).  

I continue to get yearly scans to monitor my breast health and this December I will celebrate 9 years of being cancer free. I know many who aren't as lucky, and unfortunately, more than I would like to admit, who've lost the battle. 

I used to be ashamed of my scar. I hated to let anyone see it. Over time, that has changed. Now, every time I look down I am reminded that life shouldn't be taken for granted. 

I believe wholeheartedly that in my life we will see a cure. 
Until then... fight like a girl!