Back home

Pleasantly comfortable this evening. Cocktail: Percocet, Valium, and gummi lifesavers. All of my sisters are here. Andrew and Jamie are with his folks. Mom and Dad are safe at home too. I am lapped in love and so so grateful.

When I was about 10 I loved to read the Catholic Digest that we subscribed to just as much as I enjoyed Little House on the Prairie, How to Eat Fried Worms and Trixie Belden. One day I read an article about a woman who had breast cancer and it must have scared the crap out of me because I became convinced that I had it. I felt a lump in my nearly nonexistent boob and my mom took me to the doctor, who felt me up, then explained to me that I did not have cancer. I was growing breasts.

Later boys snapped my bra in the hall. Later still I discovered Victoria's Secret. Best of all, my healthy little boy, who is sitting next to me eating a bagel, nursed for several years (yes, I was one of those mothers). Now I am going to go to Ellis Fischel, and then the Women & Children's Hospital, for a bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction surgery. I should be home tomorrow sporting bandages so tight that they will feel like a plate of armour, they tell me. I might not be able to blog for awhile. But if you're reading this, think of me. Get a mammogram if you think you might need one, too.

Introduction

Soon I will be moving to beautiful Columbia, Missouri, which is located in Boone County, Missouri to start a new job as Science Librarian at the University of Missouri. I will be beginning treatment for invasive ductal carcinoma, aka the commonest kind of breast cancer, shortly thereafter.

Timeline from diagnosis until a week ago. All of this took place in BeauWashPA:

Thursday, June 19, 2014: Regular 3D mammogram. A few hours later I get a call requesting my presence at a second mammogram and an ultrasound because they "want some more views." Skeered. They tell me to be prepared for a possible biopsy too.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014: Second mammogram and ultrasound does indeed turn into biopsy. The radiologist tells me that she will recommend surgery for the lump that they found even if it doesn't turn out to be malignant. Still skeered. Also shocked that I will have to be cut into no matter what. But a little reassured by their reassurances that the lump is very small and I will be fine if it does turn out to be cancer.

Monday, June 30, 2014: The radiologist calls. "I was right," she says in the tone Gregory House, MD used when he successfully diagnosed rare brain-eating fungi. "It's a breast cancer." In addition to being a bit annoyed by her tone, I am struck by the phrase "a breast cancer." It seems weird. Is a cancer different from cancer? Not sure.

The first text message after was to my sisters.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014: MRI scheduled, which is standard procedure, to see if they can find out if "the cancer"is just one tumor or if some of the fibrocystic lumps they found are really cancer too. I am slid (slidden?) into a loud tube with two holes in it, one for each breast. Face planted down into massage table-like donut. I ask for classical music to keep me calm during the 20-minute test and Dum Dum Dum DUM! Beethoven's Fifth booms in my ears. I wish I'd asked for smooth jazz instead but it's too late now.

Thursday, July 10, 2014: My neighbor happens to work for one of the most highly-thought of general surgeons in Washington, and is also his sister-in-law, so she has gotten me into his schedule for a consult as soon as possible after the holiday weekend. Together we decide that a lumpectomy is probably a good option for me. He explains to me that he will also need to biopsy the lymph nodes under my arm the day before the lumpectomy to see if the cancer has spread. This involves shooting me up with dye too.  On the day of the lumpectomy I will first undergo a needle localizing procedure, called "needle loc" for short, in which he would basically put a wire around the tumor's margins to help him figure out where to start cutting and to make sure, I think, that he works on the right side, not the left.

Friday, July 11, 2014: The surgeon's office calls. They didn't know that I was scheduled for a second-look ultrasound on the left side because the MRI showed some lumps that were most likely benign but that needed a, guess what, second look anyway. Do I want to wait on my lumpectomy in case I have cancer in both breasts after all? I decide to wait. (I will later wish I hadn't because the ultrasound couldn't find any cancer on the right side.)