Over 4000 days of kicking cancer's ass!! Eleven years ago tomorrow I had my first chemo. Sixteen weeks of chemo, six weeks of daily radiation and a dozen surgeries, plus 10 years of taking an estrogen blocker that enhances menopause symptoms like joint pain, weight gain and mood swings. NOT FUN. But I fought hard and I'm grateful to be alive & well.
Three weeks ago I had my annual MRI for pancreatic cancer screening. Since I'm positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation, I'm high risk for a bunch of other cancers. I've had this MRI every year for the past six or seven years. This time, something showed up. ON MY BREAST.
You might not know how bizarre that is... but in 2014 I had a bilateral mastectomy. That means my breasts were removed. Later that year I had reconstruction, where the doctor took tissue (fat) from my upper thighs to make new "breasts". They look great. They feel great. They are me. But they are not actual breasts. So the fact that something suspicious showed up there on my scan sent me into a tailspin.
I'm notorious for researching EVERYTHING, but Dr Google can be scary. I forced myself to not go crazy trying to look up what this could be. I did find out that the chance of a breast cancer recurrence in a reconstructed breast is 2-3%. That did nothing to reassure me, though, because anything that shows up as "new" on a routine scan can't be good.
They ordered a mammogram (on a fake breast!!) and an ultrasound, which I had last week. There was not one, but TWO spots that showed up. It was an emotional appointment, and I'm so grateful that Boyd and Kelsie were there with me. After a few days, the results were posted. One spot is most likely an oil cyst (whatever that is), so they didn't bother with it. The other was indeterminate, so a biopsy was needed.
I can tell you this is not the road anyone wants to travel - ever. Especially not twice. I have not handled it well at all. I haven't slept. I might have raided Hubby's stash of Xanax more than once. Knowing there might be something insidious growing inside me was an obsession... it occupied my thoughts 24/7. I have been so stressed, anxious, sad, mad, defeated, disheartened... I couldn't even find it in me to pray for myself. I had zero faith that it would be anything other than what I didn't want it to be. My poor husband has had an empty shell of a wife for weeks.
The biopsy Monday was awful. Not physically... due to all of the surgeries, I have little feeling in my chest, so it didn't really hurt. But just being there, in a sterile room at the cancer center, with not very warm or reassuring nurses and doctors, and knowing they are doing this procedure to look for CANCER in the exact same place as my original cancer.... it was horrendous. The whole thing only lasted about 45 minutes, but by the time we got to the car I broke down and sobbed.
The doctor who did the biopsy said they would call me with the results in 3-5 days, which would be Wednesday-Friday of this week. My stomach dropped when I got a phone call yesterday from UT Southwestern. I just knew that a call that quick (the next day!) had to be bad news.
I was wrong. NOT CANCER! 💗
I don't know that I've ever felt such relief.
I don't know what the suspicious spot is - she didn't say - but I know what it's NOT, and that's all that matters. I will ask at my next app0intment in September.
I have posted this on Facebook several times, and probably included it in a blog post, but - especially now - it bears repeating. I did not write this, but it is 100% accurate.
Imagine you're going about your day, minding your own business, when someone sneaks up behind you...
You feel something press up against the back of your head, as someone whispers in your ear.
"Sssshhhhh.... don't turn around. Just listen. I am holding a gun against the back of your head. I'm going to keep it there. I'm going to follow you around like this every day, for the rest of your life."
"I'm going to press a bit harder, every so often, just to remind you I'm here, but you need to try your best to ignore me, to move on with your life. Act like I'm not here, but don't you ever forget... one day I may just pull the trigger... or maybe I won't. Isn't this going to be a fun game?"
This is what it is like to be diagnosed with cancer. Any STAGE of cancer. Any KIND of cancer. Remission does not change the constant fear. It never truly goes away. It's always in the back of your mind.
Please, if you have a loved one who has ever been diagnosed with cancer, remember this. They may never talk about it or they may talk about it often. Listen to them.
They aren't asking you to make it better. They want you to sit with them in their fear... their sadness... their anger... just for the moment. That's it.
Don't try to talk them out of how they are feeling. That doesn't help. It will only make them feel like what they are going through is being minimized. Don't remind them of all the good things they still have in their life. They know. They are grateful.
But some days they are more aware of that gun pressing into the back of their head and they need to talk about it. Offer them an ear.
❤Written by Sherry McAllister❤
That gun pressed a little bit harder against me these last three weeks, and it was a brutal reminder that my fight will never really be over. I got complacent, and the fear nearly broke me. August is the worst month.
If you've read this whole thing, thank you. Thank you for being the listening ear for me today.
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