A Lump

Nearly two weeks ago, I was walking down the hall at work with two of my co-workers, and I just happened to touch my chest as I was walking.  There it was.  A lump.  Probably about the size of a pebble.  Hard.  Towards the top of my chest.  I asked my co-workers, "Do you feel this?"  They touched it and could.  The first time around I never had a lump, so I have no basis for comparison.  A few hours later I called my breast surgeon and made an appointment.  The earliest they could take me was a week and a half later. 

Initially I wasn't too worried, but then as my appointment drew nearer, I started to stress out.  What if it's cancer again?  I'd most certainly have to do chemotherapy, and I dodged that bullet the first time.  I don't know that I'd be that lucky twice.  And for those wondering why and how you can get breast cancer again locally after a mastectomy, it is possible because even though they try, they can't get every single piece of breast tissue, so you do have a little left. 

Today I spent 4 hours at Edwards Hospital, but I'm grateful I got to get everything done all at once.  My appointment with Dr. G went well.  She felt the lump right away and said she didn't think it felt like cancer.  She had an ultrasound machine in her office and took a look.  She said there was definitely something there, but she wasn't 100% sure of what it was with that machine.  So she made a call and said to go to the women's imaging center to get an ultrasound with doppler, and then I may need a biopsy. 

I was grateful that they agreed to squeeze me in to do all of those things in one day at the last minute, versus me doing each next week and waiting longer.  I sat in the waiting room watching day time tv.  I was by myself for a bit, but then a few women entered.  It was such a warm, supportive environment.  We each told our stories, why we were there, and every time one of us got called back we wished them good luck.  It was also interesting having already gone through it once, and each of them hoping they wouldn't be next.  All of us in our oversized pink robes, wishing, hoping, praying.

By the time I was called for my biopsy, I had been waiting so long that I was almost startled by the room.  I forgot what it was like.  A biopsy is like a mini-operation.  They announce your name to the nurses and doctor to say your name and the procedure happening. I had four people in my room.  The oncologist, ultra sound tech, and two nurses.  Man I love those women.  They are so sweet and comforting.  One just pats your leg kind of cheering you on, and the other just holds your hand.  The ultrasound tech was there because instead of my last biopsy where you lay face down on a table, I did it with an ultrasound so they could see exactly what they're doing live, especially because I have my implant. 

 

 

They put sterilized towels around my breast and had me turn my head so I was looking at the ultrasound screen.  They were going to give me a shot of local anesthesia and said that's what would hurt the most.  It's supposed to take effect pretty quickly, so he started inserting the needle to start taking samples.  The problem was I could feel it.  I squeezed the nurses hand and they said, "Can you feel that?" I told them I could, so they did more anesthetic.  He tried again.  I winced and squeezed the nurses hand again.  "Can you feel that?" they asked.  I couldn't answer, and the nurse holding my hand said, "She's squeezing my hand really hard, she can feel it."  And then I started crying.  Ugh!  I try to be a trooper during these things but it hurt so bad.  The oncologist said, "Are you crying because it hurts or because your scared?" I told him because it hurt.  But honestly, it was probably a little of both.  As I was laying there I couldn't believe I was doing this again.  Why am I here again?

 

He gave me more anesthetic and then was able to proceed.  It was so odd being able to see the needles go in on the screen.  He ended up taking 6 samples and said they were good ones.  When he was through, he said he feels there is a great chance that it's benign and to not worry over the weekend, and that I'd get my results on Monday or Tuesday. 

 

The nurses put steri-strips on the incision location, then told me I can't lift anything heavy for 3 days, and that tonight I need to ice the location for 15 minutes every hour.  She also told me to take Tylenol when I get home to get ahead of the pain so that when the numbing wears off, I already have it in my system. 

 

I have to say.  I felt so stupid afterwards.  I got in the car and thought to myself, "What was I thinking?"  I was planning on going to Meijer afterwards to grocery shop and just go on with my day.  I often times forget that I'm not invincible.  And it's fascinating at how easily that reminder can quickly slap you in the face. 

 

So home I went.  I pulled in and there was Eric and Julia waiting outside.  Julia ran up to me and we hugged.  It was so gorgeous out so we went to hang out in the backyard.  I took the Tylenol first, and then got an ice pack to start that process.  Julia was not happy.

 

Julia is always very protective of me and hates when I'm sick or not 100%.  I came to sit on the back stoop, and as soon as she spotted that ice pack, she started crying.  Our conversation went something like this:

 

J: Mommy!  Put the ice pack away!

M: Honey, I need it because I got an ouchie and the doctor wants me to put it on so I feel better.

J: Well, I don't want you to have the ice pack.  Put it back!  Are you sick??

M:  Well, I got the ouchie so that the doctor can find out if I'm sick or not.  I have to have this ice pack on today and I can't pick you up this weekend.  But I'll be ok.  It's just for a little bit.

J: Let me see your ouchie.

Julia worrying.

 

Each time I had the ice pack out, we had some version of that conversation.  And while she wanted me to pick her up at times, she would settle for sitting on my lap.  It made me think, based upon my doctor's predictions, I'm not too worried about the outcome.  But on the off chance that it does turn out to be cancer again, I'm so scared about what it would do to Julia.  The first time around, she was 1.5.  Looking back, she was a baby.  Now she's almost 3.5, the girl is stinking smart, and she definitely knows what's going on.  If this is how she reacts to a little ice pack, I'm nervous as to what her reaction would be if we have to move forward with anything more. 

 

For today, it's over.  I'm definitely sore, but it could be worse.  I'm grateful to my doctors and nurses for getting me taken care of, for good conversation in the waiting room, for supportive family and friends, and for sun and warmth today.  I plan on enjoying the weekend and what it brings, and work is definitely keeping me busy, so Monday and Tuesday won't leave me much time to worry.  I'm grateful to all those who have been praying, sending good vibes, and speaking kind words.  I appreciate it more than you know.



One Year

It's been one year since I received a call telling me they found cancer in my biopsy.  Some days it feels like it was long ago, and other days it feels like yesterday.  I'd like to say that I don't think about it, but I do.  Every day.

Times I'm Reminded:

1. The times that remind me the most aren't even when I'm getting dressed seeing my scars in the mirror.  Those scars are my new normal.  It's actually when I'm pulling a heavy door, wiping down the counters, or lifting something heavy.  The surgery cut the muscles and nerves near my armpits, and every time I have to do any sort of heavy lifting or pulling, I feel a pull and and then a weakness.  Like something is missing and handicapping me from my strength.  I know I wasn't a body builder or anything before the surgery, but I did take a little pride in my strength.  Now knowing I have limitations lower than what I had frustrates me and I know it'll never be the same.

To combat that, I'm trying to slowly build those muscles up.  I jumped into a work out too hard and fast and ended up pulling my shoulder while doing burpees because it was too much weight on that area.  So instead of doing something with high impact, I joined a ballet class to build my muscles and flexibility.  I've only taken one class so far, but it was really fun and I loved the stretches it provided me.  I was even sweating!  It was either a good workout, or I must be more out of shape than I thought!

2. During breast cancer awareness month or when I hear commercials on the radio for the Avon walk for breast cancer.  It's great that there is so much awareness, but as soon as I hear those commercials I change the channel.

3. When I have to fly or do an activity more strenuous from my daily life.  Because they took out a lymph node to see if the cancer had traveled, I have to prevent lymphedema which is a condition where your limb swells up permanently due to a blockage in your lymphatic system and it can't be cured.  Don't say I didn't warn you if you Google image...yikes.  To prevent it, I have to wear a pressure sleeve and can't have blood drawn or my blood pressure taken on my left arm.  So over the summer when I went to Nashville I wore it on the plane and when I went kayaking.  Luckily I got a pretty one.

4.  I'll admit, like any warm blooded woman I have insecurities about swimsuit season.  But now I feel it even more.  Will the other women at the pool notice my breasts are fake and then raise an eyebrow and judge me?  Will my new body even look right in a swimsuit?  All semi-irrational thoughts, but they're there. 

5. Any time something else is wrong with me.  In November I had to have a biopsy on my uterus, and thank the Lord it came back clear.  (I was also told I have an acruate uterus which can make it difficult to get pregnant.  Whether that happened before or after Julia I'll never know.)  But I couldn't help but think, "Here we go again."  I'm more susceptible to other cancers (including uterine) because I had breast cancer under the age of 40.  My OB/GYN suggested I get a test done that tells you which cancers you're more likely to get, but I'm passing on that for now.  I just want a break.  Also, you would think the fact that I had cancer would mean it would automatically show up on a doctor's chart and their systems would talk.  Wrong!  I went in for an annual physical in the fall and had to update them, and then in December had strep (twice) and went to urgent care and had to update them as well.  Get it together, docs!

6.  And the one that weighs the heaviest on me: the other women in my life.  In January my mom went in for a routine mammogram and they found calcifications and she had to get a biopsy done.  When she told me I was at work and I kept moving toward the brink of tears.  Finally I ran to some co-workers who I felt comfortable with, closed the door and wept.  I felt so bad for them, but luckily for me I'm surrounded by amazing people.  Also luckily for my mom and our family, the biopsy came back clean!  Oooh did I rejoice.  I did NOT like being on the other side of the coin.  It was such a helpless feeling.

What comes with all that is guilt.  Knowing my mom, sister, and my precious baby girl have to inform their doctors of my health history in order to better take care of themselves and carry my burden makes me sick.  It breeds more frustration.

But what can I do with all that?  All I know how to at this point is to tell people, men and women alike, to advocate for themselves.  If something is off, get it checked out.  What's the worst that can happen?  They find something?  Then you know, and the earlier the better.  Get it taken care of.

I don't know why God saved me the way he did.  I walked off pretty easily.  Two scars is no big deal.  And sure, the aforementioned things remind me of this journey, but overall, things could be a hell of a lot worse.  So I will keep trying to do right by God and be the best person I can be and seek the reasons he decided to keep me around.  In the meantime, I will be happy loving on my daughter and my family and take it day by day.

It's the Little Things

The other night I was uploading photos from my phone onto my computer, and in the process I decided to look through older photos from when Julia was a baby.  I came across quite a few of she and I when I was breastfeeding, and it hit me hard.  This one was my favorite.

Today, Julia took it upon herself to pull all of her sheets, blankets, and towels out of the bottom drawer of her dresser.  As I was folding, I came across a blanket that had two ends tied in a knot because I would use that as my cover up when I would breastfeed.  I stared sadly at it for a second, and then I untied it thinking, "Well, I won't need to do that ever again."  

I don't want to get into the melancholy feelings and everything, but it's the little things that hurt.  And the phrase, "You have no right to feel this way," pops into my head frequently when I feel this way, so then I just feel guilty.  It's a vicious cycle of emotions.  

Second Surgery

Well, it's been more than a week since my second surgery.  I haven't posted because quite frankly, I was in a low spot all week.  I don't know why I got so caught off guard emotionally, but it probably has to do with the fact that I thought I was going to go in, get out, and keep going back to normal. Wrong.  I got knocked on my butt and I got frustrated that I was physically limited again.

Tuesday morning I hung out with Julia as much as I could before we had to go to the hospital.  I was a little cranky because my report time was at 11:15 and I had to begin fasting at midnight.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love my food, and to go that long without eating while awake was a daunting task for me!  (First world problems, I know.)  So Eric drove me to the hospital and I wore loose, comfortable clothing as instructed, and as we approached the hospital, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.  "I forgot my ID and insurance card!!" I shouted. I was so mad at myself!  I felt like a kid who had forgotten his homework as he pulls up to the school.  I told Eric to drop me off and called my mother-in-law to see if she could meet Eric half way.  When I walked in, my dad was there waiting for me and we went to the check in counter where I explained my kerfuffle.  She said, "Oh you don't have to send your husband back!  Let's take a look."  Apparently, I didn't truly need my ID and insurance card because they have it on record since I'm a regular.  I called my mother-in-law and my dad called Eric so they both wouldn't get too far, and I was able to breathe!

After we waited for Eric to come back, I checked in and we went up to the surgery waiting room.  They called me back and went through the normal routine.  However, I found out that the hospital gown I was wearing can hook up to a hose where they blow hot or cold air into it!  Bonus.  Here's a picture of me blown up in my gown signing my consent forms.

Last surgery they gave me anesthesia before I was rolled into the OR, but this time I got pretty situated before they gave me the anesthesia.  Because I was so nauseous afterwards, they gave me a little patch on the back of my ear to wear through the next day.  When I got to the OR, I shifted myself onto the surgery table, stretched my arms out to the side, then placed an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose.  The anesthesiologist said he was administering the anesthesia and that it would hurt a little at first as it went in.  It hurt more than a little.  But then I remember thinking, "Ok, here we go."  And out I was.  

When I woke up, all I can remember was I was already sitting up in a chair and they made me drink water and eat some Goldfish.  

I was so out of it so the directions the nurse was giving me were not really sticking, but I just remembered her saying I had to wear the wrap around my stomach I was wearing and the surgical bra for a week, and to make a follow up appointment with Dr. P for next week.  

The rest of the week was dreadful.  I took off the wrap the following morning and saw what my body looked like.  My stomach looked like a cliff: fat, and then a sharp drop off.  "Oh great," I thought. "I got some fat taken out but it looks worse than if it was left in there."  My waist is what hurts the most.  I was bruised pretty badly, especially on my right side.  My breasts were sore and bruised, but not too badly.  Dr. P went in through the same incision and he just placed steri-strips on them.  Here are a few photos of the aftermath.  

Not amused.

 Feeling gross, tired, nauseous, and blue.  That's life I guess.

On Sunday, I finally broke down when my poor, unsuspecting neighbor asked why I didn't attend our block's lady's night.  I told him I was just feeling down and wasn't really in a super social mood, and then I just started crying.  I apologized, and I felt bad that I was crying because, as probably mentioned before, I feel like I shouldn't be.  What do I have to complain about?  I'm cancer free, I didn't have chemo or radiation, and I'm now done with surgeries for a while.  But it's an emotional roller coaster, and this week I was in one of the dips.  

I can feel that I'm on my way back up though.  Returning to work on Monday I wasn't officially ready, but Tuesday I was so busy I didn't really have time to think about much of anything but work.  Plus, I think just putting on clothes other than sweats, putting makeup on, and finally driving myself and leaving the house helped.  

Then today I got a call from my nurse navigator, Jill.  She asked how I was doing and explained that they had a new patient who was also younger and will be seeing Dr. G and Dr. P for a bilateral mastectomy.  This lady is nervous about the surgery and has a lot of questions, and wants to talk to someone who has gone through it, but wants to talk to someone else who is also younger.  Jill told me that both she and Dr. G thought of me and wanted to know if I would be willing to give my information so this lady can call me.  I was so flattered that they thought of me and I of course agreed.  I'm never happy to hear that someone else has been diagnosed, but it makes me happy to know that I can be there for someone and potentially be helpful in a bad situation.  It made me think of the two ladies who really helped me out during this chapter, and I couldn't have done it without them.  To speak to someone in my age group who also went through it was invaluable.  I will always be willing to be a listening ear when it comes to this, or any situation.  

While this week has been a lower point, I feel confident that I am clicking my way up.