“Congratulations! You have (the best kind of) breast cancer.”
That’s not exactly what the doctor said about a month or so ago, but it’s a fairly close representation of the way my brain interpreted it. It all started March 5 with a routine, annual mammogram (but also my very first digital one). Then a diagnostic mammogram followed, and finally, a stereotactic needle biopsy was performed.
The diagnosis of DCIS was given (by a very sympathetic and kind radiologist) and followed with “….and if you have to have breast cancer, this is the kind to have.” Translation: This type of cancer (DCIS or Ductal Carcinoma in Situ) is non-invasive, very treatable and in the majority of cases, very survivable. Moreover, radiation may be part of the treatment plan (for some, but not me due to personal preference), but chemotherapy is not. That's great, but tell me again, why do I have to have breast cancer?
It's weird, but I never thought I would become one of “those” women. You know, the women who hear those two dreadful words (“breast cancer”) directed at them as patients. How or why I thought this, I can’t say, in spite of the fact that my Mom was diagnosed with invasive breast cancer only 7 years ago, and 15-20 years before that, her sister diagnosed (also DCIS). Good grief, there's even an uncle on my dad’s side of the family who had breast cancer! So why did I think I was immune to all this?
Had I know I was eventually to become one of “those” women, I certainly would not have begun hormone replacement therapy after a hysterectomy at the ripe old age of 35, or at least I would not have continued it for 24 years. Now that I have cancer and we know it's “hormone receptive”, my GYN suggested this would be a really good time to stop. (I think I already had that figured out). So a month ago, I abruptly cut those beloved estrogen pills out of my life and then, started sweating, literally, through 10-12 hot flashes daily. These days I find myself lusting after expensive cotton PJs and battery-operated fans. Trust me on this, “power surges” are cute; hot flashes are “OMG!! Get these clothes off NOW!” At least I manage to disrobe in a powerful manner.
“What does one feel like?” my Dad asked when I warned him one was approaching as I rode in the back seat of his van. “Like someone put your clothes in the microwave.” Well, he didn’t know what that was like, either, so I suggested it was like being in a sauna with your clothes on. Now I'm thinking that was an understatement.
I’ve started recording these HFOs (Hot Flash Occasion) in a notebook with details pertaining to time and type of activity involved in at the moment. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this information, but for a start, it makes me feel powerful, and secondly, some day I may throw it at the doctor who last year ordered me to stop ERT (Estrogen Replacement Therapy) because of a newly-discovered heart problem, and besides, she said, I was well past the age of experiencing any menopausal symptoms. How could she have been so right about one thing (stopping) and so wrong about another (no symptoms)?
But I digress…
“Those Women.” Another group in which I never expected to find myself was the group of women who’ve had “surgical enhancement”. And yet….here I am, quite sure I’m going to have this very procedure (one way or another). Here I am, almost 60 years old, and after all this is over with, just may -- for the first time in my life -- end up with some actual cleavage, because of a strange twist of fate. Of course, first there's a mastectomy and then reconstruction, but that's OK. And that teenaged boy I dated once many years ago whose ruthless taunt of “pancake” will forever be purged from my memory. (Is this what one calls “being positive”?)
In all honestly, prior to my diagnosis, I dismissed this type of surgical enhancement as somewhat shallow; I would never be one of “those” women; I was "deeper" than that; and I certainly didn’t need large breasts to be intelligent, confident, secure, appealing or whatever.
Maybe so….but I haven’t had the mastectomy yet and have no idea what I'll feel like when a breast is actually missing. If and when I do, (a 99% probability, in my opinion), it’s nice to know I have the option of reconstruction. It’s almost something to look forward to….maybe afterwards, for the first time in my life, someone will describe me as “well-endowed,” along of course, with smart, kind, witty, and all that other stuff. At this point, I'd even settle for just "endowed."
Moral of This Post: (choose one)
A. Ladies, get your mammograms and make sure they’re digital (especially if you have calcifications in your breasts).
B. Teen-aged boys are shallow and annoying.
C. Large-breasted women are shallow and annoying.
D. Hot flashes are nothing to laugh about. (Go ahead, make my day!)
E. There’s a silver lining behind every cloud.
~~~~~~~~~To be Continued -- I think)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*We’ll see how therapeutic this is….
**Next installment: Perhaps I’ll discuss the tests I’ve had and how to spend $10,000 before treatment even begins.
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Comments: 8
i really wish you the very best with all of your treatment and healing. :) you go girl!
Good luck, Patty.
I'll be crossing my fingers for you tomorrow! 80% of the time, things that look suspicious will be found to be benign on the follow-up for diagnostic mammo and other tests -- or at least that's what I think I remember from my incessant Googling on this subject.
Thanks for the positive thoughts!
My sister in law is a survivor. The only thing that I can tell you that might help from her experience is that she regretted not being informed before the surgery. Either she didn't want to address it or she was not given the opportunity - I'm not sure which.
Her message to anyone going through this is - if the reconstruction surgery is there, go for it. If it's not she said she would have been so much better off having both of them taken off. For the last 20 years she has been lopsided. Had she been informed, she would now be flat chested. Reconstruction then was not an option, and from day one she resented being lopsided. She wishes she had a choice.
Of course, she says it's better than being dead so she is grateful to be alive.
I too wish you well on your treatment and recovery.
I have learned that insurance companies are now REQUIRED to not only pay for a medically necessary lumpectomy/ mastectomy, but they also have to pay for the reconstruction for the removed breast, as well as for surgical intervention on the remaining breast to achieve symmetry.
I'm so sorry your sister didn't have that choice! I know it would have made her life so different, but she has a good attitude, too -- it's better than being dead!