04-25-13
I've been feeling pretty anxious and fighting the sadness that wants to overwhelm me over the last week since I saw the surgeon. Waiting SUCKS!
When I left her office she said she would send me an authorization number so that I could schedule my MRI after my period started. Since that visit I had received no phone call. Not even to see how I was doing. I on the other hand had called their office three times. Twice, expressing my uneasiness about the prolonged wait. While only nine days now it's seeming like an eternity when you have a diagnosis already. Once to report that I received a call from the genetics lab who reported to me that my insurance will not cover the cost of the test. Neither of my calls were returned until today by the surgeon's assistant.
She might be a nice enough person. I don't know her at all. But I am not a happy camper. And I am kicking myself in the ass wishing I had just gone ahead with the referral my primary care doctor had given me to begin with. I also cancelled an MRI a week ago at the advice of the surgeon. I finally got a call from her today but she had no answers for me. Nor did she have an authorization number for my MRI they told me I needed. In frustration, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I called the other doctor. I made an appointment. I called my primary care doctor and got an authorization number immediately for an MRI and I called and made an appointment for the MRI which will happen next Wednesday if not sooner (I'll be calling to see if any cancellations will allow me a sooner spot). I then told my husband that I had several conversations that were incredibly helpful with the original surgeon's office and they have followed up with me and bent over backwards to get me in.
After getting off work and arriving home I called the office of the surgeon I had already met and informed them that I no longer needed them to authorize an MRI for me and that I would not be making any future appointments for the doctor. Her assistant got on the phone and when I told her that I was going to go elsewhere and that I had everything lined up all she could muster to say to me was, "i'm sorry i was sick yesterday and I've been working to get what you need done." It was so ambivalent that I could have cared less. That surgeon just lost a patient. I did in 20 minutes of phone calls what she had yet to accomplish in nine days. If this was going to be foretelling of my possible care during treatment with this doctor I would be absolutely horrified.
I needed to do something. Someone has to worry about me and what's best and right for me and if no one else is going to take on that job than I will surely be the one doing it! This is my life! While I feel like I've backtracked and lost some time and momentum, I'm hopeful this will be the better direction to go. Always go somewhere else if you aren't positive about where you have been.
It's late. I'm tired. I've tried hard to stay busy at work and not get too lost in my thoughts but it's hard to do. I've been making mistakes and feeling in a daze. I feel like I walk outside of myself a lot. I feel some disconnect to everyone around me too. Even though I'm getting support and love I feel detached. I feel like I haven't truly crumbled like I know I need to so that I can stand back up and climb up this hill, mountain, peak. Thank God I have a lot of life climbing experience!
I think perhaps God has sent me a possible gift. An angel of the most special kind. A survivor, my age, in my town. We've never met...not yet. I read a story about her and reached out when I realized she lived here too. To my surprise and delight she replied to my request and agreed to meet. Next Tuesday we will meet for coffee and get to know one another a little bit. We've exchanged some quick emails thus far. I'm so grateful for next Tuesday :)
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
My Family...My Reason for Fighting
My Husband
My Parents
Leah
Cara
Jace
LuLu
My Sisters
My Aunts and Uncles
My Cousins
My In-Laws
And too many friends to find pictures of :)
I have so much love and support, Thank you!
The Breast Surgeon
04-16-13
It's been three weeks since I first saw my primary care physician to mention the lump I had found. Today was my first meeting with the breast surgeon. My husband has worked with her before so I'm confident that his recommendation wouldn't come without good reason. After checking in and doing more paperwork we are called back to a nice room. Both Dale and I are pretty nervous. He has a pad of paper with his pen, ready to write his questions and acquire the answers.
Dr. Chiantella walks into the room and greets us. Me for the first time and Dale well they've met as I said. Dale is a surgical tech and works with lots of different doctors. He likes this one for me. She reviewed all my films prior to coming into the room. She had seen and read the lab results.
As we began to talk she asked me to describe what had been going on...how I discovered the lump, etc. Then she went on to tell me she had no idea, no reason or explanation as to why this was happening to me. Nothing in my history or anything I'd ever done would point to a cause.
First, we need to get an MRI. She asked me when my last menstrual cycle was. It was almost a month ago. I was probably going to have it again in a week or two. I had an MRI scheduled in two days already. But she tells me to cancel the appointment and wait until I get my period. She explains it's better to do so in order for the MRI to get a more accurate read. The swelling that can happen before your period can apparently interfere or skew the reading/results. So I cancel my appointment.
I also decide that when I do get the MRI I will get it done in Reston, rather than Fairfax because it's more convenient and they are connected to her office so she'll get there results immediately.
We discuss treatment likelihoods, but nothing is for certain until the MRI is done. Odds are a large portion of my right breast will need to be removed. I realize I'm not quite ready to hear that. She even mentions a complete mastectomy depending on how things look. Even plastic surgery to even the left one out with the right if nothing is wrong with the left. So far nothing appears to be happening in the left breast or lymph nodes. She mentions radiation but says that because my cancer cells still have HER receptors that I will probably not need chemotherapy. This was a good sign she said.
She asks about doing genetic testing for the breast cancer gene and I know I want to take the test. It's so easy, just a mouth wash with scope and you spit in a cup. Then it goes to the lab and they tell you if you have it or not. I think it's a great idea and I go ahead and do it.
Now we are supposed to just wait until we can get the MRI. I also need to get an authorization form the insurance company for the MRI, which she tells me she'll call me with when she gets it. I am out of questions...still numb, not sure what I'm thinking really.
We leave. I guess it was a good visit. I liked the doctor and I felt paid attention to. That was important to me.
Now we wait some more. I've never wanted my period to arrive so soon as I do now! Let's get this show on the road.
Time to Learn the Biopsy Results!
04-12-13
It's been three days since the biopsies were done.
2 p.m. - I was at work when I noticed a call coming through on my cell phone. It was my primary care physician. I ignored the call. My husband also just happened to have his regularly scheduled check up with our doctor that afternoon at 4 p.m. I didn't want to answer the call while at work, but I got a bad feeling when I saw the number come across my phone. I waited fifteen minutes before I decided I needed to just swallow my fear and call them back.
First, I listened to the voice mail they left me. It was the doctor's assistant. She said,
I gathered more courage to dial the number to the doctor office. When they answered I asked for Macy. When she appeared on the phone I said in my happiest most casual voice I could muster,
I tried to reach my husband immediately but he didn't pick up. So I called my office manager. I went into the break room to speak to her about the phone call I had just received from my doctor's office. I had barely started to let the words out and there it was - the crack in my voice. It was all over. I could no longer contain my fear. I was officially freaking out.
I did my best to finish up my work before leaving the office. Before I knew it we were in the car driving to the office together. We were silent, mostly. Not knowing what to say or think. I was crying, without sobbing. Holding my breath and then releasing it. My hands were sweating. Ever the optimist, Dale assured me it would be okay and that whatever news we were given we would get through it "together."
As we pulled into the office parking lot I tried to collect myself. I wanted to appear confident and spare the staff from the emotional mess I might become, if the news was truly bad. We signed in and I took a seat. Dale sat down and took my hand and held it comfortingly tight. I did not want to let go.
Macy came to the waiting room and called us back. The whole thing was surreal. We sat through my husband's entire check up without mention of why I was there. They took his weight first, then his blood pressure and temperature. Then we went back to the room to wait for the doctor to see him.
Our doctor is always cheerful and he likes to say "okie dokie" and "alrighty" a lot. I think it's a nervous tick he has, but it's cute. He sat down and reviewed my husbands vitals. All was good. His blood pressure was under control (given the state of the hour, I was surprised it wasn't through the roof). His weight was down, which was a good thing. All in all, Dale was in a good state of health.
My husband expressed a recent increase in stress levels - for obvious reasons. The doctor nodded and at this point he began to address to cause of the stress.
My health.
As he shuffled through some papers he said "we received the results of the biopsy." He did his best to put a positive spin on the entire diagnosis. Early stage breast cancer. I went numb. Blank. No emotion. This surprised the hell out of me. I didn't know what was going on anymore.
The calcifications came back as Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS). The lump came back as Invasive Mammary Ductal Carcinoma. The next steps were to see a Breast Surgeon and have an MRI. These appointments were already made for me by the office.
I kept thinking my life was not happening like this. This was NOT real.
We both left the office with a sort of numbness and a handful of prescriptions. We were both back on anxiety medication that neither of us had needed since our years of financial struggle. Yay! What great times.
That night, Dale called his parents. I called my parents.
I felt the most emotionally vulnerable when talking to my dad. It broke my heart to tell him. I could hear the hard swallow and choking up in his throat through the phone. All I could do was say I am so glad you will be here soon.
Coincidentally my parents were planning a trip here in the next 4 weeks. I'd like to think God had a hand in that timing.
All we can do now is focus on what's next. Meeting with the surgeon and getting an MRI.
And prayer. Lots of prayer.
I knew my husband was far more afraid than he let on and I was thankful we had the weekend to process all of this before we would both have to return to work the following Monday.
Tuesday we would meet with the surgeon.
Depression, which I've battled with on and off most of my life, was waiting in the shadows. Waiting to sink it's teeth into me.
The next bit of time was going to be rough. I could tell.
It's been three days since the biopsies were done.
2 p.m. - I was at work when I noticed a call coming through on my cell phone. It was my primary care physician. I ignored the call. My husband also just happened to have his regularly scheduled check up with our doctor that afternoon at 4 p.m. I didn't want to answer the call while at work, but I got a bad feeling when I saw the number come across my phone. I waited fifteen minutes before I decided I needed to just swallow my fear and call them back.
First, I listened to the voice mail they left me. It was the doctor's assistant. She said,
"Hi Melissa, it's Macy at your doctor's office. Your husband has an appointment today at 4 p.m. and we would like you to come with him."As soon as I heard the message my heart stopped, my stomach flipped about 20 times and I began to sweat. Anxiety overwhelmed me. I tried harder than I've ever tried to keep it together and not let the people at my work see my distress. I'm certain I didn't succeed in fooling anyone.
I gathered more courage to dial the number to the doctor office. When they answered I asked for Macy. When she appeared on the phone I said in my happiest most casual voice I could muster,
"Hi Macy, it's Melissa. I got your message. Is everything okay?"She said that my doctor wanted to see me and that it would be best if I came with my husband. I asked her if it was about my biopsy results and she quickly confirmed that is was. I was direct and asked if the news was bad. Why else would they want to see me in person, I thought to myself? She said they aren't allowed to discuss results over the phone. Again with a firm voice I said,
"I don't want to leave work unless it's really important. Give me a sign Macy, do I really need to come in."She said yes, you should come in.
F*CK!!!!!!!!!!
I tried to reach my husband immediately but he didn't pick up. So I called my office manager. I went into the break room to speak to her about the phone call I had just received from my doctor's office. I had barely started to let the words out and there it was - the crack in my voice. It was all over. I could no longer contain my fear. I was officially freaking out.
"I need to leave as soon as possible, the doctor called and they want to discuss the results of the biopsy."It's bad, it must be bad. That's all I kept thinking. Finally I reached my husband and told him to come pick me up on his way to his doctor appointment. "What's the matter?" he said. I conveyed as much as I could remember (in my panicked state) and in the frenzy of it all he has the presence of mind to assure me he would be there soon and I would be okay. But, would I?
I did my best to finish up my work before leaving the office. Before I knew it we were in the car driving to the office together. We were silent, mostly. Not knowing what to say or think. I was crying, without sobbing. Holding my breath and then releasing it. My hands were sweating. Ever the optimist, Dale assured me it would be okay and that whatever news we were given we would get through it "together."
As we pulled into the office parking lot I tried to collect myself. I wanted to appear confident and spare the staff from the emotional mess I might become, if the news was truly bad. We signed in and I took a seat. Dale sat down and took my hand and held it comfortingly tight. I did not want to let go.
Macy came to the waiting room and called us back. The whole thing was surreal. We sat through my husband's entire check up without mention of why I was there. They took his weight first, then his blood pressure and temperature. Then we went back to the room to wait for the doctor to see him.
Our doctor is always cheerful and he likes to say "okie dokie" and "alrighty" a lot. I think it's a nervous tick he has, but it's cute. He sat down and reviewed my husbands vitals. All was good. His blood pressure was under control (given the state of the hour, I was surprised it wasn't through the roof). His weight was down, which was a good thing. All in all, Dale was in a good state of health.
My husband expressed a recent increase in stress levels - for obvious reasons. The doctor nodded and at this point he began to address to cause of the stress.
My health.
As he shuffled through some papers he said "we received the results of the biopsy." He did his best to put a positive spin on the entire diagnosis. Early stage breast cancer. I went numb. Blank. No emotion. This surprised the hell out of me. I didn't know what was going on anymore.
The calcifications came back as Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS). The lump came back as Invasive Mammary Ductal Carcinoma. The next steps were to see a Breast Surgeon and have an MRI. These appointments were already made for me by the office.
I kept thinking my life was not happening like this. This was NOT real.
We both left the office with a sort of numbness and a handful of prescriptions. We were both back on anxiety medication that neither of us had needed since our years of financial struggle. Yay! What great times.
That night, Dale called his parents. I called my parents.
I felt the most emotionally vulnerable when talking to my dad. It broke my heart to tell him. I could hear the hard swallow and choking up in his throat through the phone. All I could do was say I am so glad you will be here soon.
Coincidentally my parents were planning a trip here in the next 4 weeks. I'd like to think God had a hand in that timing.
All we can do now is focus on what's next. Meeting with the surgeon and getting an MRI.
And prayer. Lots of prayer.
I knew my husband was far more afraid than he let on and I was thankful we had the weekend to process all of this before we would both have to return to work the following Monday.
Tuesday we would meet with the surgeon.
Depression, which I've battled with on and off most of my life, was waiting in the shadows. Waiting to sink it's teeth into me.
The next bit of time was going to be rough. I could tell.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
My Three Biopsies
04-09-13 7:25 am
It's been seven days since the mammogram. I'm about to go through something that for the past week has been scaring the sh*t out of me. I call it the second invasion of my breast. The first being the lump, now the needles will invade and I am terrified.
To prepare myself I get this bright idea and decide to look up videos of the procedures on YouTube. BIG mistake for me personally, it just scared me more. I don't like medical settings at all. The smell of sterility and instruments and cleaner alone gets me queasy.
The night before the biopsy I came home from work to find the sweetest note and flowers from my stepdaughter Leah and my grandson Jace. It was such a sweet reminder that I had love around me.
My husband and I woke up early. We stop to grab a light breakfast which they recommend prior to the biopsy. I was beyond nervous so had been prescribed something for anxiety to try and calm my nerves, but to be honest it wasn't working so well. The best anti-anxiety aid I could ask for was Dale. His presence made the morning so much easier.
On the way to to the appointment he continued to reassure me that all would be okay and we would get through this together. These tiny reminders were wonderful to hear no matter how hard they were to believe. I am a pessimist and he is an optimist. I need him so much right now and he's doing a terrific job. I know through this journey I will need to have more of a positive outlook and to attract positive thoughts. It's what everyone keeps reminding me.
I wore comfortable clothing just like they recommended. I hadn't taken anything but Tylenol for pain for over a week so that I wouldn't bleed a lot. I was as prepared as I could possibly be. We check in and have a seat. There are lots of people in the waiting room. Men, women, all there for any number of reasons. I wait until my name is called, hoping for it to take a while but as soon as I get comfortable..."Mrs. McAllister" fills the room.
I wished Dale could go with me but I kissed him, handed him my purse and we said "I Love You." I followed a woman back to another room much like the one at the place where I had my mammogram. Only this time we walked right on by the room where the women are waiting to have their mammograms and head down another hallway to different tiny dressing room with a curtain. Again, I'm instructed to undress from the waist up and don the gown with the opening facing the front. I wait.
Soon another woman appears, her name is Daizy with a "z." She is Indian and I am drawn to her accent and she is just another wonderful and gentle person providing the care I so need right now. She brought me into a little room to sit and wait to meet the doctor who will perform the biopsies. Before she left me she explained the whole process to me, emphasizing how she will take good care of me and we will finish as quickly as possible. I appreciated her sincerity, even though I was certain she repeated these words to everyone who had to sit in this chair.
A few minutes later Dr. Sicard greets me. She makes sure I understand what will happen and shares with me that she too has been through the procedure. She walks with me to the room next door where the first two procedures will take place. The sterility and smell is already getting to me. There are lots of instruments and machines around the room and in the middle is a large table. I have to climb up onto the table (there is no possible way to do this gracefully) and lay flat on my stomach. In the middle of this table is a hole where my right breast must hang through. I feel ridiculous and uncomfortable. My right arm is laying by my side backward, my head is turned to the left and my left arm is raised above my head on the table.
Once you are in that position you can't move for the entire procedure and I had two procedures in a row to complete while on this table. It's awkward. So I focus on my breath and I try to daydream. The music of Enya was playing in the room. I suppose they wanted to provide a sense of relaxation, which is hard to attain in this state, but nice just the same.
Both Dr. Sicard and Daizy talk to me through everything. They both alert me before anything is done. It's nice. In preparation for the biopsies they position my breast and apply numbing medicine. Daizy rubs my back as a distraction while the shot is given. I thank her. Touch is an amazing medicine.
They take more images to ensure the needle will be guided to the exact location to extract the sample of tissue. When this is happening I feel only a tiny tickle of pain in the deeper part of my breast, but it's insignificant. The samples retrieved are examined to make sure they got what they wanted. As soon as this is confirmed I am prepped for the next one.
After the second biopsy is completed they apply compression to the breast to ensure the bleeding had stopped. We are finally done with this part. Thank, God! This whole process up to that point took about 90 minutes. Lying in the same position. I could barely pick myself up off the table because my arms and shoulder and neck had kinked and gone numb a long time ago. As soon as I sat upright I got dizzy.
I know this feeling all too well. I asked Daizy for some orange juice because I was about to lose consciousness I lay back down. Daizy and the doctor applied ice packs to my forehead, neck and wrists. I am so familiar with this reaction of my body. It hates trauma. My anxiety combined with the smells, the thoughts, seeing any speck of blood and the fluctuation in my blood pressure after lying down for so long has made me absolutely about to black out. The room is fuzzy, sounds are miles away and I am heavy. After I have the orange juice and give myself a few minutes I am feeling like I can sit up again. And guess what? I still have one more biopsy before this trip is over.
We relocate to the room next door where I could now lie on my back, just like when I had the ultrasound a week ago. In fact an ultrasound is used to guide this biopsy procedure. Dr. Sicard prepared me for another injection of numbing medication. I just turn my head and try to zone out while this happens. My right arm is raised above my head and after the breast is numb she takes two or three tissue samples and it's over. They felt like little pinches with a loud clip sound. It was over quickly.
Aftercare instructions were provided to me. No heavy lifting for a couple days. No showering the first day. Keep the bandages/tape on until they fall off. Use Tylenol and ibuprofen for pain. Alternate ice packing to reduce swelling (bags of frozen peas are best). Wear a sports bra. Wait for results.
I got dressed and was more than ready to see Dale. It had been almost three hours since my arrival. I could tell he was happy to see me when I walked out. We headed home where I just wanted to rest and be with my family. My husband had a little crown waiting for me when I got home :)
It's been seven days since the mammogram. I'm about to go through something that for the past week has been scaring the sh*t out of me. I call it the second invasion of my breast. The first being the lump, now the needles will invade and I am terrified.
To prepare myself I get this bright idea and decide to look up videos of the procedures on YouTube. BIG mistake for me personally, it just scared me more. I don't like medical settings at all. The smell of sterility and instruments and cleaner alone gets me queasy.
The night before the biopsy I came home from work to find the sweetest note and flowers from my stepdaughter Leah and my grandson Jace. It was such a sweet reminder that I had love around me.
On the way to to the appointment he continued to reassure me that all would be okay and we would get through this together. These tiny reminders were wonderful to hear no matter how hard they were to believe. I am a pessimist and he is an optimist. I need him so much right now and he's doing a terrific job. I know through this journey I will need to have more of a positive outlook and to attract positive thoughts. It's what everyone keeps reminding me.
I wore comfortable clothing just like they recommended. I hadn't taken anything but Tylenol for pain for over a week so that I wouldn't bleed a lot. I was as prepared as I could possibly be. We check in and have a seat. There are lots of people in the waiting room. Men, women, all there for any number of reasons. I wait until my name is called, hoping for it to take a while but as soon as I get comfortable..."Mrs. McAllister" fills the room.
I wished Dale could go with me but I kissed him, handed him my purse and we said "I Love You." I followed a woman back to another room much like the one at the place where I had my mammogram. Only this time we walked right on by the room where the women are waiting to have their mammograms and head down another hallway to different tiny dressing room with a curtain. Again, I'm instructed to undress from the waist up and don the gown with the opening facing the front. I wait.
Soon another woman appears, her name is Daizy with a "z." She is Indian and I am drawn to her accent and she is just another wonderful and gentle person providing the care I so need right now. She brought me into a little room to sit and wait to meet the doctor who will perform the biopsies. Before she left me she explained the whole process to me, emphasizing how she will take good care of me and we will finish as quickly as possible. I appreciated her sincerity, even though I was certain she repeated these words to everyone who had to sit in this chair.
A few minutes later Dr. Sicard greets me. She makes sure I understand what will happen and shares with me that she too has been through the procedure. She walks with me to the room next door where the first two procedures will take place. The sterility and smell is already getting to me. There are lots of instruments and machines around the room and in the middle is a large table. I have to climb up onto the table (there is no possible way to do this gracefully) and lay flat on my stomach. In the middle of this table is a hole where my right breast must hang through. I feel ridiculous and uncomfortable. My right arm is laying by my side backward, my head is turned to the left and my left arm is raised above my head on the table.
this is the kind of table this biopsy is done on
Once you are in that position you can't move for the entire procedure and I had two procedures in a row to complete while on this table. It's awkward. So I focus on my breath and I try to daydream. The music of Enya was playing in the room. I suppose they wanted to provide a sense of relaxation, which is hard to attain in this state, but nice just the same.
Both Dr. Sicard and Daizy talk to me through everything. They both alert me before anything is done. It's nice. In preparation for the biopsies they position my breast and apply numbing medicine. Daizy rubs my back as a distraction while the shot is given. I thank her. Touch is an amazing medicine.
They take more images to ensure the needle will be guided to the exact location to extract the sample of tissue. When this is happening I feel only a tiny tickle of pain in the deeper part of my breast, but it's insignificant. The samples retrieved are examined to make sure they got what they wanted. As soon as this is confirmed I am prepped for the next one.
After the second biopsy is completed they apply compression to the breast to ensure the bleeding had stopped. We are finally done with this part. Thank, God! This whole process up to that point took about 90 minutes. Lying in the same position. I could barely pick myself up off the table because my arms and shoulder and neck had kinked and gone numb a long time ago. As soon as I sat upright I got dizzy.
I know this feeling all too well. I asked Daizy for some orange juice because I was about to lose consciousness I lay back down. Daizy and the doctor applied ice packs to my forehead, neck and wrists. I am so familiar with this reaction of my body. It hates trauma. My anxiety combined with the smells, the thoughts, seeing any speck of blood and the fluctuation in my blood pressure after lying down for so long has made me absolutely about to black out. The room is fuzzy, sounds are miles away and I am heavy. After I have the orange juice and give myself a few minutes I am feeling like I can sit up again. And guess what? I still have one more biopsy before this trip is over.
We relocate to the room next door where I could now lie on my back, just like when I had the ultrasound a week ago. In fact an ultrasound is used to guide this biopsy procedure. Dr. Sicard prepared me for another injection of numbing medication. I just turn my head and try to zone out while this happens. My right arm is raised above my head and after the breast is numb she takes two or three tissue samples and it's over. They felt like little pinches with a loud clip sound. It was over quickly.
this is what the ultrasound guided biopsy is like
Aftercare instructions were provided to me. No heavy lifting for a couple days. No showering the first day. Keep the bandages/tape on until they fall off. Use Tylenol and ibuprofen for pain. Alternate ice packing to reduce swelling (bags of frozen peas are best). Wear a sports bra. Wait for results.
I got dressed and was more than ready to see Dale. It had been almost three hours since my arrival. I could tell he was happy to see me when I walked out. We headed home where I just wanted to rest and be with my family. My husband had a little crown waiting for me when I got home :)
This is a kids crown with the girl from the movie Brave on it. Appropriate I thought.
I told them that I would not let this go to my head :)
I told them that I would not let this go to my head :)
My First Ever Mammogram
04-02-13
It's been a week since my initial meeting with my primary care physician, Dr. Chen. I'm scheduled for my first ever mammogram today. I have no idea what to expect other than some mild discomfort from my girls being smooshed between the cold plates of the mammogram machine. I can handle this!
I check in to the radiology center and take a seat waiting for my turn. I'm alone since Dale has to work and we think there's nothing to worry about....right? The radiology center is very nice and quiet but not in an awkward way, more like a serene and peaceful way. I feel comfortable right away.
A door opens and my name gets called. I follow the girl to a dressing-like room with nice elegant wallpaper and changing rooms with beautiful drapes. I'm instructed to undress from the waist up and don a gown with the opening facing the front and wait to be called. There are fancy hooks and hangers to leave my clothing on and a mirror. I stare in the mirror for a moment revealing my naked top, getting a good look at the breast with the lump before I'm interrupted by the call of my name.
I slide open the pretty drapes and I'm greeted by a beautiful and gentle woman who is about to perform my mammogram. Her name is Rehhka (pronounced Ray-ka). I like it and her instantly. She is calm and instructive in a kind and caring way. After signing a few documents we get started. She is gentle which is nice because no one wants to be man-handled. She asks me casually if I have any history of breast cancer in the family. This question makes me nervous because even though it's important I'm feeling a degree of paranoia and I start thinking the question is prompted by the discovery of something that would be explained by a family history.
While it is a little uncomfortable to have my boobs squished and smashed, it's mostly awkward (not embarrassing). After she's taken what feels like a plethora of images of both breasts but especially the right one (the one with the jelly bean) she announces we are done.
Now we are going to do an ultrasound. What what?? I'm wondering why are we doing an ultrasound? This has got to mean that something IS wrong. F*ck! Rehhka leads me back to the plush dressing room where I sit and wait behind the curtain. I text my husband but he doesn't respond because unknowingly he had left his phone at home. Grrreat. I'm wishing he had come with me, that someone had come with me. I tell myself to pull it together and I imagine the worst news being delivered to me and remind myself that I am going to be strong and I will not fall apart...not before the news is officially given anyway. Before I can finish anymore text messages I hear my name again, "Mrs. McAllister."
As I open the drapes a new woman is revealed to me. Her name is Shelly. She is tall, young and soft spoken. She is also very gentle and sweet. I feel taken care of by all of the staff here. I'm glad I'm here in a caring place, I just wish someone I knew was with me at this point. I imagine the sensitivity the staff must need when delivering any unwelcome news to patients.
She asks me to lie down on the table next to the ultrasound machine and raise my right arm above my head like you do when you conduct a self exam. She prepares me for the cold jelly that gets applied as she begins the ultrasound. Shelly is quiet while she works. Do you have a family history of breast cancer she asks me. No, I reply and in my head I keep thinking they must be seeing something. The ultrasound wand, moves and stops and moves and stops. She readjusts and starts again.
The paper on the table underneath me is crinkly and I'm keenly aware of all my senses. I hear the tapping of her typing with the other hand. The room is dimly lit with one small yellowy light in the center of the ceiling which I have been fixated on since the ultrasound began. This little light figuratively draws me away from the table I'm lying on. I am lost in my thoughts. I practice biting my tongue to cause enough pain that I won't cry when the urge reveals itself.
Alright, she says. I'm going to wipe all this jelly off and you can sit up and cover up. I'll be right back with the doctor. Sh*t! Why is the doctor coming to see me? F*ck! This must be bad. Buck up Melissa, it's nothing I whisper in my head. Sh*t! I wish Dale was here...
The door opens. "I'm Dr. Sim, nice to meet you." She has me lie down again and examines by right breast with the ultrasound herself, exploring my underarm checking for anything near my lymph nodes. She doesn't see anything there which I'm guessing is a good thing. She explains to me that she can both feel and see the jelly bean lump I've described. But...in addition to that they have found several calcification sites that are of concern to her. Because of this she recommends I have a few biopsies. A few? You're going to need an ultrasound guided biopsy of the lump and two different stereotactic biopsies of the calcifications.
I have no idea what she is talking about so I ask, what is a calcification in the breast? Well she explains, they are little deposits. Some are nothing to worry about. Others can be a sign of cancer. Taking a biopsy will help us determine the type of cells they are. She gave me this example: if you live in a neighborhood, every house puts out their trash on the same day, but then someone new moves into the neighborhood and if you want to know what's going on in the house, you can take a glimpse into their trash and find out a lot about what happens in that house. So we need a biopsy to find out what's going on in these particular cells in my breast. It made sense.
Shelly lead me back to the dressing room where she placed her hand on my arm and said you'll meet with our navigator now. She'll help you schedule these procedures and if you have any other questions about the process she's your contact. All I kept thinking was I can't believe this is happening. Am I really hearing this all right? Before she left me, I asked her softly, will I be awake for the biopsies? I was so afraid of being cut. She said yes, but you'll be okay, they'll numb your breast so you don't feel it. And it's just precautionary. Usually these things turn out to be nothing to worry about she advised me. I could tell she was trying to ease my mind. It was her job to do that. But I saw her eyes, and they silently told me she knew something was not right.
I dressed and waited again for my name to be called. Marjorie brought me back to her office. She is the navigator. She explains the procedures and reassures me they usually result in benign and non-cancerous lab results. She schedules my three, yes THREE biopsies to take place all in one visit in one week. I am really starting to feel like I'm having an out of body experience at this point. I'm fighting back any tears and I keep sensing they all know something I don't. I leave the center and head to the car.
I can't begin to process all of this information. Sitting in the car I'm barely able to make a decision about driving, calling anyone or anything. So I cried. I cried and cried. Not a sobbing, blubbering cry. It was just straight tears running down without control while my face and body remained in this stoic state of shock. How do I explain this to anyone? Is this really happening to me?
I have to pull myself together because I have to drive. I collect myself and push all the information into the back of my head temporarily. I need to pick up Dale and he still isn't answering his phone or texting me back.
Between finishing my appointment and picking Dale up from work I tried to kill the time. I had lunch with Leah and the baby. I did some retail therapy. Two pairs of sunglasses, lots of baby clothes for Jace and a Pandora Charm later I find my way back to reality. I don't like my reality right now. I'd rather be shopping and avoiding my feelings.
Only a few hours after my appointment was over I arrived at Dale's work, unable to wait any longer to speak to him and having no clue why he isn't answering his phone. I've never actually gone inside my husband's place of work. It's a surgery center...go figure. I am still in a daze and I'm sure I look bizarre. I walk up to the reception desk of the surgery center and ask if my husband is available by his first and last name because they have no idea who I am at the front desk. Predictably they ask me who I am and I reply, his wife. Oh! they say and someone quickly goes to the back to get him.
Dale emerges in scrubs from head to toe, having just completed a procedure and he is surprised to see me. He asks me if everything went alright at my appointment, but I know he already has an idea that it didn't since I'm actually standing here. No, it wasn't alright I said softly. I have to have three biopsies next week. I know he was stunned and he quietly but quickly gathered his things and left for the day with me.
As soon as we were together and alone I began to cry. I was scared. He was scared. But he just kept reassuring me everything would be okay and that we would get through it together. The entire ride home in the car Dale's hand was cemented to my knee and it didn't move until we arrived home. It was all I needed in that moment.
That night, Dale made all the calls to our parents to let them know what was about to happen. I couldn't bare sharing the news. He was strong when I couldn't be. He was revealing one more facet of what marriage was really about. The part about sickness and health. We'd already done the richer or poorer part.
I know we will only be stronger because of this I remind myself quietly. Most importantly he helped me focus on one step at a time. We will only think right now about the next appointment, the next move. We won't allow ourselves to succumb to the fear of the unknown and the worry that comes with thinking too far ahead. It was good advice.
One week to the biopsies. I can do this!
It's been a week since my initial meeting with my primary care physician, Dr. Chen. I'm scheduled for my first ever mammogram today. I have no idea what to expect other than some mild discomfort from my girls being smooshed between the cold plates of the mammogram machine. I can handle this!
I check in to the radiology center and take a seat waiting for my turn. I'm alone since Dale has to work and we think there's nothing to worry about....right? The radiology center is very nice and quiet but not in an awkward way, more like a serene and peaceful way. I feel comfortable right away.
A door opens and my name gets called. I follow the girl to a dressing-like room with nice elegant wallpaper and changing rooms with beautiful drapes. I'm instructed to undress from the waist up and don a gown with the opening facing the front and wait to be called. There are fancy hooks and hangers to leave my clothing on and a mirror. I stare in the mirror for a moment revealing my naked top, getting a good look at the breast with the lump before I'm interrupted by the call of my name.
I slide open the pretty drapes and I'm greeted by a beautiful and gentle woman who is about to perform my mammogram. Her name is Rehhka (pronounced Ray-ka). I like it and her instantly. She is calm and instructive in a kind and caring way. After signing a few documents we get started. She is gentle which is nice because no one wants to be man-handled. She asks me casually if I have any history of breast cancer in the family. This question makes me nervous because even though it's important I'm feeling a degree of paranoia and I start thinking the question is prompted by the discovery of something that would be explained by a family history.
While it is a little uncomfortable to have my boobs squished and smashed, it's mostly awkward (not embarrassing). After she's taken what feels like a plethora of images of both breasts but especially the right one (the one with the jelly bean) she announces we are done.
Now we are going to do an ultrasound. What what?? I'm wondering why are we doing an ultrasound? This has got to mean that something IS wrong. F*ck! Rehhka leads me back to the plush dressing room where I sit and wait behind the curtain. I text my husband but he doesn't respond because unknowingly he had left his phone at home. Grrreat. I'm wishing he had come with me, that someone had come with me. I tell myself to pull it together and I imagine the worst news being delivered to me and remind myself that I am going to be strong and I will not fall apart...not before the news is officially given anyway. Before I can finish anymore text messages I hear my name again, "Mrs. McAllister."
As I open the drapes a new woman is revealed to me. Her name is Shelly. She is tall, young and soft spoken. She is also very gentle and sweet. I feel taken care of by all of the staff here. I'm glad I'm here in a caring place, I just wish someone I knew was with me at this point. I imagine the sensitivity the staff must need when delivering any unwelcome news to patients.
She asks me to lie down on the table next to the ultrasound machine and raise my right arm above my head like you do when you conduct a self exam. She prepares me for the cold jelly that gets applied as she begins the ultrasound. Shelly is quiet while she works. Do you have a family history of breast cancer she asks me. No, I reply and in my head I keep thinking they must be seeing something. The ultrasound wand, moves and stops and moves and stops. She readjusts and starts again.
The paper on the table underneath me is crinkly and I'm keenly aware of all my senses. I hear the tapping of her typing with the other hand. The room is dimly lit with one small yellowy light in the center of the ceiling which I have been fixated on since the ultrasound began. This little light figuratively draws me away from the table I'm lying on. I am lost in my thoughts. I practice biting my tongue to cause enough pain that I won't cry when the urge reveals itself.
Alright, she says. I'm going to wipe all this jelly off and you can sit up and cover up. I'll be right back with the doctor. Sh*t! Why is the doctor coming to see me? F*ck! This must be bad. Buck up Melissa, it's nothing I whisper in my head. Sh*t! I wish Dale was here...
The door opens. "I'm Dr. Sim, nice to meet you." She has me lie down again and examines by right breast with the ultrasound herself, exploring my underarm checking for anything near my lymph nodes. She doesn't see anything there which I'm guessing is a good thing. She explains to me that she can both feel and see the jelly bean lump I've described. But...in addition to that they have found several calcification sites that are of concern to her. Because of this she recommends I have a few biopsies. A few? You're going to need an ultrasound guided biopsy of the lump and two different stereotactic biopsies of the calcifications.
I have no idea what she is talking about so I ask, what is a calcification in the breast? Well she explains, they are little deposits. Some are nothing to worry about. Others can be a sign of cancer. Taking a biopsy will help us determine the type of cells they are. She gave me this example: if you live in a neighborhood, every house puts out their trash on the same day, but then someone new moves into the neighborhood and if you want to know what's going on in the house, you can take a glimpse into their trash and find out a lot about what happens in that house. So we need a biopsy to find out what's going on in these particular cells in my breast. It made sense.
All those little specks are Microcalcifications
Shelly lead me back to the dressing room where she placed her hand on my arm and said you'll meet with our navigator now. She'll help you schedule these procedures and if you have any other questions about the process she's your contact. All I kept thinking was I can't believe this is happening. Am I really hearing this all right? Before she left me, I asked her softly, will I be awake for the biopsies? I was so afraid of being cut. She said yes, but you'll be okay, they'll numb your breast so you don't feel it. And it's just precautionary. Usually these things turn out to be nothing to worry about she advised me. I could tell she was trying to ease my mind. It was her job to do that. But I saw her eyes, and they silently told me she knew something was not right.
I dressed and waited again for my name to be called. Marjorie brought me back to her office. She is the navigator. She explains the procedures and reassures me they usually result in benign and non-cancerous lab results. She schedules my three, yes THREE biopsies to take place all in one visit in one week. I am really starting to feel like I'm having an out of body experience at this point. I'm fighting back any tears and I keep sensing they all know something I don't. I leave the center and head to the car.
I can't begin to process all of this information. Sitting in the car I'm barely able to make a decision about driving, calling anyone or anything. So I cried. I cried and cried. Not a sobbing, blubbering cry. It was just straight tears running down without control while my face and body remained in this stoic state of shock. How do I explain this to anyone? Is this really happening to me?
Sitting in the car after the news that I needed biopsies..scared and sad.
Between finishing my appointment and picking Dale up from work I tried to kill the time. I had lunch with Leah and the baby. I did some retail therapy. Two pairs of sunglasses, lots of baby clothes for Jace and a Pandora Charm later I find my way back to reality. I don't like my reality right now. I'd rather be shopping and avoiding my feelings.
Only a few hours after my appointment was over I arrived at Dale's work, unable to wait any longer to speak to him and having no clue why he isn't answering his phone. I've never actually gone inside my husband's place of work. It's a surgery center...go figure. I am still in a daze and I'm sure I look bizarre. I walk up to the reception desk of the surgery center and ask if my husband is available by his first and last name because they have no idea who I am at the front desk. Predictably they ask me who I am and I reply, his wife. Oh! they say and someone quickly goes to the back to get him.
Dale emerges in scrubs from head to toe, having just completed a procedure and he is surprised to see me. He asks me if everything went alright at my appointment, but I know he already has an idea that it didn't since I'm actually standing here. No, it wasn't alright I said softly. I have to have three biopsies next week. I know he was stunned and he quietly but quickly gathered his things and left for the day with me.
As soon as we were together and alone I began to cry. I was scared. He was scared. But he just kept reassuring me everything would be okay and that we would get through it together. The entire ride home in the car Dale's hand was cemented to my knee and it didn't move until we arrived home. It was all I needed in that moment.
That night, Dale made all the calls to our parents to let them know what was about to happen. I couldn't bare sharing the news. He was strong when I couldn't be. He was revealing one more facet of what marriage was really about. The part about sickness and health. We'd already done the richer or poorer part.
I know we will only be stronger because of this I remind myself quietly. Most importantly he helped me focus on one step at a time. We will only think right now about the next appointment, the next move. We won't allow ourselves to succumb to the fear of the unknown and the worry that comes with thinking too far ahead. It was good advice.
One week to the biopsies. I can do this!
Monday, April 22, 2013
The Princess and The Pea-sized lump in her breast...
It was December 2012. Just before Christmas. While in the shower I discovered a little, hard lump, the size of a pea in my right breast. I asked my husband Dale to feel it. To tell me it was nothing, that I was being overly worried. He could feel it too and thought it was worth having the doctor take a look at it to make sure it was nothing to worry about. He encouraged me to make an appointment. And that I did...but it was the holidays and life was busy and hectic and I only had certain days where I could even make it to the doctor office and then I would cancel and reschedule. In hindsight I might of been avoiding the answer I might get. I let three months go by before finally keeping an appointment.
Hiding behind this smile is fear.
I had a week to wait until my appointment. I didn't want to make a big deal about it or worry a whole lot. But I couldn't help but wonder what this little hard knot in my breast was doing there. By now it was the size of a jelly-bean. This was how it would continue to be described at all my visits. The jelly-bean.
I kept reminding myself, no one in my family ever had breast cancer at an early age and the only one who I knew to even have breast cancer at all was my dad's mom but she was in her 80's when she was diagnosed and treated.
It surely seemed that I would get the mammogram and they would tell me all was well, that my boobies were simply fibrous and I had a cyst or something benign. But that was not to be the case....
"Crossing Over"
*note...I have since changed the name of the blog from Attraversiamo to Reconstructed Me.
I once read the book Eat Pray Love and I wanted to fall into the pages and feel and experience all the sounds, and sights and tastes I was reading about. There was one particular piece in the story where the woman describes her favorite word while living in Italy and learning Italian. The word was "Attraversiamo." It means, let us cross over. Like crossing the street. But in a more figurative way, let's take the next step, let's move forward. I loved this so much that as I enter this chapter in my own personal story I want to remember that we are simply crossing over...to the next place, space, stage, whatever you want to call it. And this will be my journal of this process.
I once read the book Eat Pray Love and I wanted to fall into the pages and feel and experience all the sounds, and sights and tastes I was reading about. There was one particular piece in the story where the woman describes her favorite word while living in Italy and learning Italian. The word was "Attraversiamo." It means, let us cross over. Like crossing the street. But in a more figurative way, let's take the next step, let's move forward. I loved this so much that as I enter this chapter in my own personal story I want to remember that we are simply crossing over...to the next place, space, stage, whatever you want to call it. And this will be my journal of this process.
Below is a great imagery of where I stand and the idea of crossing over. I found it online and thought it perfect to share in my first blog. This is an excerpt from Ian Paul Marshall's website.
"The middle ground of life is a double sided coin. On one side is the comfort of the familiar. And on the other the fear of the unknown.
We sort-of crave and are repulsed by both.
We hate being in the gray zone. That in between place. Stuck between worlds. Not sure where we’re going and a little hurt by where we've been.
But at the same time we crave routine. We do everything in our power to create it. And if it’s shaken in any way, we’re rocked to the core.
But you see, it’s that possibility, of touching your core that brings about the greatest insights, awareness and understanding.
And maybe somewhere within our minds we know that.
We know that if we have the courage to “crossover” and move forward we’ll be stepping into the unknown. Discovering aspects of who we are. Exploring uncharted territories of ourselves. And there’s a huge chance that we’ll step forward naked, wearing only our scars of triumph and defeat for the world to see.
And this scares the crap out of us.... " - Ian Paul Marshall
That's it...that's pretty much how I feel right now. I'm on this brink, this edge of some invisible cliff and it scares the crap out of me because I can't see what's next and the familiar and comfort I know and want so much right now seems miles away, strewn about in the wind after the terrible storm that hit my life on 04-12-13. I'm about the cross over into something I've never imagined in my wildest dreams.
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