Diagnosis

One good thing about a breast cancer diagnosis in San Diego is the beautiful folder they give you to hold your bad news, ha!

A medical journey may not start with a diagnosis, but it takes on new life once you have one. You may even gain a new title. One day you go from normal mom, wife, woman over 40 dealing with mom, wife, woman over 40 things, to breast cancer patient. 

But I don’t want this title. I don’t want October and the color pink to mean something different to me. This is a group I never wanted to be a part of, but now, being a part of the breast cancer survivor group, is my most desirable option.

In June, I went for my first mammogram. They told me many women get called back in after their first because they have no prior scans to use as comparisons. They want to ensure they have the most comprehensive look for future mammograms. So, when I was called back in for an ultrasound, I wasn’t worried. You can’t schedule until September 1st? No biggie! I just have dense breast tissue.

The spot they were focused on in the ultrasound was actually no big deal, but I am thankful for an ultrasound tech who was thorough, because she found another spot of concern. On September 14th I had my first biopsy.

What’s the best way to receive bad news?

Technology is a curse and a blessing. On September 19th, I got an alert that I had new results in my chart. I went to my room and closed the door. I put my laptop on the bed. And I paced. Do I look? I knew that if I had cancer, it was already in my body. I couldn’t feel it. Not even a lump, but if it’s there, it’s been there. So I looked.

Malignant. Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Stage 1. Grade 1.

I was reminded of ten years ago when I’d waited for Frank to come home from work to show him a positive pregnancy test, which is such an odd turn of events. Now I was waiting for him to come home so I could show him my positive cancer results.

Where am I now?

I’ve had several more mammograms, an MRI, another round of biopsies, which found more cancerous masses, which are luckily all in the same area. 

As I write this I am debating my surgical options and planning to meet with my oncology surgeon this afternoon to hopefully make a decision and plan surgery. 

I will need radiation. I won’t know about chemotherapy until after surgery. I will be on anti-estrogen drugs for five years after radiation. I may need more cosmetic surgeries in the future, but hopefully no more cancer-related surgeries.

I’m working as much as I can. I’m continuing my exercise routines. I try to laugh as much as possible and keep the “you have breast cancer” roadblocks from throwing me into a tailspin. 

We caught this early. This is not my favorite life adventure, but I am one of the lucky ones. This is life-altering, not life-ending.

I will say, though, ladies, get ‘em checked!