Last October, I shared the story of how, as a senior in college, I had my first encounter with breast cancer. Thank God, aside from the ugly scar from my lumpectomy (which I'm still a little upset hasn't turned into the "stretch-mark" I was promised...) I managed to escape with minimal damage (emotional or physical).
What I didn't mention in that story is that even as I wrote it, I knew there was a mass growing in a place that it shouldn't have been growing. What's worse, I didn't want to do what I knew needed to be done, so I didn't. Yes, I know. It's irresponsible, hypocritical & basically all the things I find revolting in people who annoy me. So, why, you might ask am I telling this story now?
Because it matters.
A couple of months ago (3rd Saturday in October to be exact), I spent the weekend with an old friend. She's one of those friends who has spanned such a large part of my adult life, that I can't remember a major event that she wasn't a part of & the months (and sometimes years) when we weren't super close are insignificant in comparison. She was one of the few people who knew of my scare in college, so, after a weekend of classic bonding, in a way only we can do, I confessed my fear that there might be something to worry about. Once the words came out, there was no turning back, I knew I had to make the appointment and good or bad, face it head on.
The following week, I made an appointment. Ironically, the earliest appointment available was the morning of November 5th (the day after my birthday & the day before Election Day). I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried more about this doctors appointment than the fact that I was turning 32 and hadn't accomplished a quarter of the things I had planned by that age. But, I didn't want anyone to worry unnecessarily, so I didn't really tell anyone what was happening. Instead, I just smiled and acted like everything was perfectly fine (cue: The Wreckers - "Stand Still, Look Pretty"). Finally, the big day arrived & as much as I wanted to think I had imagined something that wasn't really there, my doctor agreed, something wasn't right. Five minutes into my exam, he had a nurse schedule another appointment with a radiologist for the very next day. I'm not really sure what happened over the course of the next 24 hours, at least not in the world around me. I can, however, account for every second in my overly-active, imaginative head. I played out every worst case scenario as if November 6th - a day which for months I had imagined to be the greatest day in a generation, the day Barack Obama was elected for a second term - would be my doomsday (I often wonder if this is how Republicans felt that day...but I digress).
Since I had voted on Halloween, I wasn't worried about the election, in fact the election allowed a much needed reality check with my favorite little girls on the planet. An hour before my ultrasound, my goddaughters meet me for coffee as they were passing through from Nashville. In an instant I was brought back to earth and reminded of the importance of being brave & no matter what the future held, how they saw me handle it mattered more than any fear or pain I might face.
The ultrasound went pretty quickly, but not without a few quirky moments. I didn't realize it at the time, but the ultrasound tech looked really familiar. It wasn't until I got to my car I put it together, we graduated high school in the same class. I'm not sure if she knew it was me during the exam, I'd say she probably did, which is why, although both my doctor & I could feel an unnatural growth, during the ultrasound she assured me there was nothing there. "Absolutely nothing to worry about".
With that, I headed back to work, with what felt like the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders. I called my friend on my drive back to share the good news, after all, it was only 12 hours before she was reassuring me that everything would be fine a vowing to stand by my side, no matter what. That's a pretty good friend. But I found I don't have a really good friend. I have a best friend, an amazing, confident and brave friend. I found this when she offered her first, honest, reaction to my sigh of relief; paraphrasing..."Oh, thank God, I don't have to shave my head"! I wanted to laugh & cry all at once. For the record, I would never let anyone shave their head in solidarity. It's an awfully kind and thoughtful thing to do, but why on earth would you do something that you may very well not be equipped to pull off fashionably without medical necessity? Have we learned nothing from the braveness of Kelly Pickler?!?
Our conversation that day was one of my favorites because I knew no matter what, I had someone who will always have my back (or as the case may be, boob). It was a nice feeling.
Election Day played out much like I expected. As my friend put it so eloquently on Twitter the next morning, I was on cloud nine... Until about 10am.
That was around the time I got the call I wasn't expecting. It was my doctor's office. They had received the radiology report & it wasn't looking as "absolute" as I had been told. It all happened so fast & unexpectedly, but what I remember were the words "surgical consult" & "lymph node". My doctor was not equipped to follow through with the types of tests & exams that I needed, so they arranged for me to meet with my old friend (and surgeon) Dr. Webber at the Knoxville Comprehensive Breast Center.
Another irony in this story is that only a few months before another good friend was confronting this same issue with her mother & I sang the praises of Dr. Webber, who ultimately ended up treating her Mom. I guess that's why I had his information handy and available when the nurse asked if I had a preference. Within a few hours, I had a full day of surgical & radiological consults scheduled for the next week.
The joy we shared a day earlier was quickly shattered as my worst fears were suddenly possibilities again. Because I know that it's a waste of time to worry, I try to just live in the moment & worry when there's something to worry about. However, if you follow me on twitter or Facebook & noticed posts, tweets or complaints about insomnia or random things at even more random hours, you now know why. I simply didn't sleep for over a week. Then came the big day, November 15th.
As expected, my friend had cleared her schedule and sat by my side for nearly every second of this frightening day. The only time I don't remember her being there was during the mammograms; she wasn't allowed in due to the radiation exposure risk. I don't know that I've ever had a friend as devoted & caring. From the snacks she packed for the long day ahead, to the inappropriate stories she told at just the right time to ease my anxiety, to the fury she expressed as we left the facility (more on that in a minute...) I wasn't facing the scariest battle of my life alone, and I knew it.
So the final stop on the "Show us your lumpy boob" tour was the ultrasound which, again, went really well. That said, even the ultrasound tech mentioned the possibility that the doctor might want to biopsy the area after she looked at the mammogram images & ultrasound video. So, we weren't out of the woods just yet, but it was as close to an all clear as I could have expected. In fact, once the news set in, I'm pretty sure I started to cry. Not because I was sad or scared, but because I had been so scared & for the first time in a week (which at that point had started to feel like a year) I breathed a sigh of relief. But like every other part of this story, there was quickly a tipping point.
This time it was when the doctor came in. It didn't help that she asked me "so, what's going on here today?", as if she had no idea why I was half dressed sitting on her exam table. Then, in a matter of minutes, it was discussed & decided that at least one biopsy & tagging would be taking place, but it turns out there's a second, smaller, more narrow area on the underside that also has blood-flow & looks a bit mysterious. So mysterious that it only showed up in half of the images & scans. So another, more targeted set of mammogram images was needed before a final decision could be made.
The new scans only made the issue more complicated & so, what I thought would be over by the end of the day was now being scheduled for more invasive follow up in 2 weeks. TWO MORE WEEKS!?!?!
I had no choice. I adapted my philosophy that you shouldn't worry without cause & tried to hold it together for the next 14 days while I waited to see just how bad the situation might be. Along the way, there were many sleepless nights filed with worst case scenario soap operas which played out in the most dramatic ways in my head. At some point I decided to start bribing myself. I bought lots of "because you made it this far" gifts like a breast cancer awareness North Face jacket, a Kate Spade watch I had been lusting after for several months & three or four (I honestly lost count) new Kate Spade purses. (If it's not clear already, I'm a huge fan of Kate Spade!)
The gifts helped but the time didn't pass any faster. I tried other things too, like painting, but my OCD was only heightened by my anxiety & the need to create perfection superseded the joy of escaping through art. Then there was the notice that my insurance would not cover an MRI, the very test the doctor thought was necessary and ultimately the reason everything was pushed out 2 additional weeks. Of course it came over Thanksgiving weekend, so not only was I freaked out about the insurance issue, there was nothing I could do about it until Monday! Even then, it was a no go on the MRI, which is where the fury my friend expressed actually starts to make sense. I could have had every procedure on the first visit, but because of the second spot & stupid MRI, they put it off. It didn't make sense at the time & made even less sense now.
When November 29th finally arrived, I had decided since they were only doing a needle biopsy & tagging on the original mass, I could handle it on my own. I wasn't really afraid. I had honestly made peace with the whole situation. And then I got there. And it started to hit me, I was going to have a very big needle entering a very sensitive area & at least one of these entries would be "tagging", or marking the growth with a tiny titanium ribbon or wing. Slowly, and then a little more quickly I was entering the panic zone. Then, as if God himself knew I was on the edge of losing it, the nurse came in with an anti-anxiety drug & requested the person who would be driving me home. Well, of course, I didn't have anyone. I was doing it alone, remember?!? I immediately called my friend, who, by the way is a teacher, who was still on the clock. Without hesitation, she said she'd leave as soon as her kids were gone & would be there within an hour. And she was. In that hour, the procedure was completed. The worst part for me was before anything actually happened. It was during the prep when the nurse described in very specific detail, step by step, what would happen. Turned on my side, facing the wall, I found myself silently crying out of fear. So much for doing it alone! It was in that moment I realized life isn't meant to challenge tough things alone. That's why we have family & friends. I had barely been bandaged & re-dressed when my friend arrived. Both full of fury for not having been told we should prepare or this the first time around & concern for the trauma she could see through the fear in my eyes, she did what only she could do; she held it together for me & made sure I had all the info/drugs/supplies I needed for my recovery.
Seeing that I never relaxed enough for the drugs to actually work, she followed me as I drive back to her house. I stayed with her as I recovered for the next few days. That night, although I managed to lose more blood from a scrape to my knee acquired through a totally innocent walking mishap while attempting to obtain dinner from Panera, I got the best night's sleep I'd had in over a month. So good that when my friend was on her way home from work, well after 3pm, it was her call to check on me that woke me from a very peaceful slumber. Within the next hour, I got the news I needed...the biopsy results showed absolutely NO abnormalities. I was in the clear; at least for the mass growing around the lymph node. The most upsetting news is actually pretty vain; instead of a titanium ribbon, I was tagged with a titanium wing. I know...there are tons of women who would rather complain about the shape of the titanium injected into their bodies & not the chemo or other horrible treatments they have to endure. The final word was that I am basically in the clear & will follow up in March/April to check on the second mass, but I'm not worried. I'm built with titanium. Whatever happens, I will make it through with lots of love & support from friends & family.
I've just realized the length to which I've told this story and haven't explained why.
Today is December 23rd, 2012. Exactly 10 years ago today, my first tumor was extracted & found to be benign. In my family, we celebrate Christmas a little early each year when we acknowledge the events of December 23, 2002. Each year I am grateful & reminded of the importance, for women of all ages, to be aware of their own breast health. Early detection could be the difference between a needle biopsy or mastectomy, or in even worse cases, life & death.
