"The Cavalry's A Comin'!"

"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path."
-- Agatha Christie

Right on, Agatha! I'll admit, it doesn't matter how old you get, sometimes you just want your momma! Herald the trumpets, she's on her way! She's a busy lady with a full-time job, but when I need her most I can count on the fact that she will be here. Six hour road trip or not, she's a comin'.

She and my Dad will arrive tomorrow afternoon. I can promise you that when she walks in, we can all relax! She is super competent and will have everything whipped into shape in a way that I will never quite be able to match.

I can't wait for both of them to get here! I just wish it was for a nice summer vacation visit instead. But, I can pretend for a day!

"Thankfulness...Right Now?"

I realize it is too early for Thanksgiving, but why procrastinate? So, I am working on thankfulness. It seems like bad timing to take on this task right now, but I know it is what I have to do to get through the days, weeks and months ahead. I am currently thankful that I was able to spend a few days back home in Tulsa to celebrate my baby's first birthday (a bit early)! I am thankful for my parents, grandparents, brother, cousins, aunt, uncle, in-laws (and the occasional outlaws) that came out to show their support for our family. It was a solid group of people who care about us. That is something for which to be thankful.
I also am thankful for the break from thinking about medical jargon and doctors. Of course, I'd be lying if I didn't admit it was always in the back of my mind. But, we are back home to Columbia preparing to face the journey that lies ahead. I want to ask Robert Frost which road is the one less traveled, because if it is this one then I'm not sure he had the right idea!

So, I'll try to keep working on thankfulness in the midst of things that don't make me feel like doing so. I know there are many people who are currently dealing with situations much worse than mine. But, as a preacher once told me, it may only be a paper cut, but it is your paper cut and it still hurts!

"Breast Cancer on the Back Burner!"

On August 10, my baby turns one! I won't go into how the time flew by, because we all know that it did! My plan was to pile the family into the SUV and head to Tulsa (where everyone in our whole family - with the obvious exception of us - lives)! It is very important to me that we all be together to celebrate this milestone. Sadly, breast cancer had other ideas.

Well, I have outsmarted that stupid cancer! I started calling family members, plopped invitations in the mail immediately, had Mom reschedule the date for our party location and made a quick trip to the party store! We are moving this good time up a couple of weeks and making it happen!

Tonight, I will push breast cancer to the back of my mind and enjoy my baby, my family and all the good energy I will get from being able to see everyone before the big "C" tries to take over my days for a while. I will be able to hold Jayce, take pictures, eat cake and laugh while I'm still feeling great! Hopefully, by the time I plan his second birthday party, we will be more concerned about picking a theme, the right balloons and the perfect cake while cancer will be a thing of the past!

"The Game Plan"

Okay, it's game on! The plan is in place, the team is gearing up (okay, well the surgical team is probably always geared up), and I'm getting my game face on. I'd be lying if I said I was hyped up and raring to go. Maybe if I had cheerleaders...I don't know.

We are going with a lumpectomy. That will be preceded by a sentinel node biopsy (so they can make sure no cancer has spread its nasty self into my lymph nodes. There are a couple of other pre-game routines. The day before surgery, I get to visit nuclear medicine and have radioactive dye injected (too bad I already used a Spider-man reference). The morning of surgery I get to start off with what they call a needle localization. Which basically is like a biopsy only they leave a little needle sticking out of you (they promise to tape it down) to help guide the surgeon to the right spot. Sounds look a good time!

Then, I finally make it over to the hospital for the big game. While we are at it, the chest port will be placed (which will be used later for my chemo). The most important thing about this game is who wins...and I have my doubts that cancer will come out of this victorious!

"Swimming in Surgical Options"

Today was the day. I had been dreading it and looking forward to it. I want a game plan and I want no part of this process. It was our third meeting with the surgical oncologist and all test results were in, biopsies and MRIs accomplished, and surgical recommendations on the table.

I didn't like it one bit. There was so much to think about and too many options! There could be a lumpectomy (also known as partial mastectomy) followed by radiation, a mastectomy was offered without radiation (with or without reconstruction surgery), or a double mastectomy (with or without reconstruction). My head is swimming in the pool of options and trying to determine what is right for me?

The tumor (aggressive, as she keeps reminding me) was a little bigger than first thought putting it between a stage 1 and stage 2 for size. Still early she reassured me.

Right now, I feel like I am overwhelmed with information. I will talk, read, pray and hopefully make the right decision.

"The Big Date"

I'm nervous as a school girl about to go out on "the big date." That big date is tomorrow, but at least I will have a chaperon! All tests results are in and it is time to sit down with my husband and the surgical oncologist and decide what to do!

I've read article after article of Seventeen magazine so I'll know what to expect! Well, in my case, I've read lots of "patient education" brochures, books and pamphlets. I know the terms from lumpectomy and mastectomy to sentinel node biopsy and adjuvant therapy.

But, now it is time to face all the unknowns. What will she suggest for me? Will I agree? Will the timing work out? How long will this journey take? Will it all be a big success at the end? I hope to get many answers from the doctor tomorrow, but I also know that most of the answers will come from God and that is where I have to keep my focus despite these nervous distractions!

"Pink Ribbon Weirdness"

Forget about painting the town red. We all know that come October the stores will be coated in pink. I was personally feeling pink ribbon fatigue last fall. I mean how many cups, mugs notepads, pens, magnets, car flags, kitchen accessories, shirts, flip-flips, hats, baby diapers (okay maybe not diapers, but it wouldn't surprise me) do we need?

I get what it is all about and boy do I really get it now! I was at the grocery store the other day and I was stopped in my tracks by a display of pink ribbon items (from note cards to t-shirts). I felt compelled to look at it, but I didn't feel anything else. I just felt weird. This stuff means me now, right? I can't grasp that.

Last year, the final straw happened during a football game. My husband was astonished! The NFL players were wearing pink, yes PINK cleats during the game for breast cancer awareness. That's it, he told me, it has just gone too far! This year, he has already decided he can't wait to see the pink cleats. He has no problem with them at all! For me, I can't decide. It just feels...weird.

"Support Groups are for Sissies, Right?"

'Hello, my name is Jennifer and I have breast cancer.' I waited for the applause or maybe the supportive murmurs. Okay, that isn't what really happened, but it might have been what I was expecting! I wasn't sure what I was walking into when I decided I would show up for the local breast cancer support group.

I had been reading books and articles about breast cancer and what to expect. Many extolled the virtues of the support group. One line stuck right out...many who would benefit the most from a support group never seek one out. OH! What if that is me? That's it, I better find one! I hoped that didn't make me weak or needy, but I thought I'd just see what it was like and go from there.

What I found was a group of ladies who had "been there, done that" and were willing to spend their own time to guide and support newbies like me. I also met another newbie who was just one year my junior. We even have the same surgeon. I hope we'll be able to help each other too.

When they passed around a sign-in sheet, I wrote my name and noticed everyone had checked the box under "cancer survivor." I hesitated and it was noticed. I was told "you are surviving it now, that makes you a survivor." I checked the box!

Not a sissy in the bunch, only survivors!

"Nice News from Nurse Nancy!"

Oops, I missed a call. I checked voicemail and it was Nurse Nancy from the cancer center and could I please call her back. Gulp. What now! I returned the call (as any polite cancer patient would do) to find that Nurse Nancy had results from my second biopsy. Already!

"Jennifer, I just wanted to call and let you know your results are benign."

Benign (adj.)
1. Someone with a kindly disposition or gracious
2. expression of gentleness or kindness
3. favorable
4 Pathology not malignant

Let's check the above definition. Yes, Nurse Nancy was kind, gracious, gentle and her news was favorable! But, I'll take door number 4...no cancer in my other breast! By the way, 'benign' is my new favorite word!

"Me Vs. the Needle, the Remix"

Deja Vu (or maybe the Twilight zone)! I arrived for breast biopsy number two (same song, different breast)! The same nice nurse leads me into the same dimly lit room. She remembers me and tells me that I know the drill. Only this time, it is a different radiologist, and apparently the rest of his family! Okay, not really. But, it looked like I was going to have an audience.

This guy took a lot longer than the first person. It seemed to be going on forever in my mind and right when I thought we were just about done he informs me that I should be good and "numbed up" now.  What?  I'm just now numb, we haven't even done this thing yet?  Geez! As the real show starts, the audience starts filtering in (being fashionably late I guess). As each person enters the little room, nice nurse #1 introduces them to me..."This is Dr. so and so." and "now we have Dr. such and such." This is the downside to being in a University hospital (lots of eyeballs on you)!

It's finally done, I'm taped, wrapped and ready to go when the nice nurse goes over the post-biopsy instructions one last time. Suddenly, I'm very interested in what she is saying! Can you repeat that last part? Sure, she says she will even highlight it for me! She takes me back to the waiting room where my husband has been reading dogeared magazines (I guess). She hands him the sheet of instructions and points out that highlighted portion. For 48 hours: no lifting, pulling, pushing, exercise, COOKING, WASHING DISHES, any activity using arm movements! Did you catch that?  Sometimes, there IS a silver lining!

"Cancer: Kind of like Head Lice?"

After dinner the other day, we talked to our 9-year-old daughter about what might be happening to Mommy soon. We decided to feed it to her in child size chunks. I asked her if she had ever heard the word "cancer" and she said said "yes, that is contagious." We explained that is it not and then told her about my breast cancer. She then decided it was a bug. We told her it was just a bad part that had to be taken out, just like when I had my gallbladder out recently (which she remembers). 

Her eyes suddenly lit up and then she said "Oh, is this when your hair falls out?" We weren't going to get into a discussion about anything beyond surgery at this point, so we weren't sure what to say. Luckily, she snapped her fingers, rolled her eyes, and laughingly said "Oh, never mind, that's when you have head lice." Yeah, that must be it!

The next morning she came into my room when she woke up. "Good morning Mommy, how is your breast cancer today?" I responded "It's just fine." Thank goodness it isn't head lice!

"The Diseased Family Tree"

Between tests and doctor visits, I was sent to genetic counseling. The first thing she did was whip out some paper and start drawing a family tree, except it turned out to be a big diseased family tree! Someone call an arborist, we have an emergency! I've never known so much about the ailments of those who came before me! 

We talked about my early onset of cancer and that my maternal aunt also had breast cancer when she was close to my age. So, I took a genetic test to see this could be hereditary. If so, it could make a difference in the surgical approach. It also would mean that I would be at a much higher risk for ovarian cancer down the road or even a second breast cancer.

A bit of good news, the test came back negative which means a mutation in the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes was not found! Finally, a good phone call from the cancer center!

"Oops, we hit a snag"

Okay, I was ready for "the big appointment." It had taken on monumental proportions in my head. It was time for my husband and I to see the surgical oncologist again to decide what type of surgery would be best for me. I was armed with a notebook full of questions.

Instead, she came into the little room to report that the MRI showed something in my left breast. Something tiny, she assured me. Something solid, but not really suspicious. Guess what this means? Me versus the big needle, part two! Another biopsy was scheduled. I loved the first one so much, why not try it again!

I left the appointment feeling disappointed and torn. I didn't want to wait any longer for answers. I did not want another biopsy. I wanted the game plan! But, in the back of mind I realized it gave me a little more time before I had to start this process that I didn't want to do in the first place. It gave me a little more time to pretend like the breast cancer wasn't real, if I could.

"The Sweet Sounds of the MRI"

MRI technicians would not make very good DJ's. I'm in the tube, face down, enjoying a good pop song being piped in through the hospital headphones when BANG, CLANG, BOOM! Is the idea to scare the cancer out of you? These noises just might do the trick! I'm all for whatever works!

Seriously, I was concerned when I arrived about claustrophobia. So many people seem to be worried about that, so why shouldn't I be? I found that because you are face down, this is not an issue. It is just like being on a massage table only without the awesome massage part, you get music and abrupt banging noises instead. It's like Oscar the Grouch rummaging around in his trash can with 30 of his closest grouchy friends.

Honestly, my least favorite part was getting the IV (I have previously mentioned my unhappiness with the pokey sticks). Oh, and when they start giving you the dye during the MRI it doesn't hurt, but feels really cold and weird (I imagine it was the same way spiderman felt when he got bit, but that is just a guess on my part)!

"The Roller Coaster Ride"

In between visiting with all those nurses, I did spend quality time with the doctor. She was patient, explained so many things my head was spinning (even though I took notes) and gave me good news and bad.

According the the ultrasound, the tumor is stage 1 in size (1.6 cm). However, it has that nasty grade 3 rating (aggressive). She said it is best to be positive on the ER and PR lab tests. Both of mine came back negative (of course). Not sure yet about the HER2/Neu. Since I'm young, the tumor is aggressive and is not responsive to hormone therapy, I will be having IV chemo (I almost jumped for joy over that news).

Next step: a breast MRI. Then we talk about our surgical options.

We (my husband and I) have a mixed bag of news. We have shock and emotion coursing through our systems and sometimes we have totally normal moments. It's just like being on a roller coaster, only you don't get the cool wind in your face and you hardly ever get to put your arms up in the air!

"Nurses on Parade"

Two days after "D-day" I'm back in the parking lot of the cancer center. This time, I'm sure there was no design flaw, but I hate seeing that word (and it is so big on the side of the building)! I'm here to meet my surgical oncologist (fancy word for someone who does cancer surgery). My husband is with me and I'm a ball of nerves!

That's when the parade starts. The nicest nurse ever collects me from the waiting room, then another nurse comes in the room to introduce herself and when she leaves I see another! At the end of my appointment one of them saddles me with a bag, a file folder system for me to use, a book, pamphlets and business cards. Then she opens her arms and says "we are huggers here." As I let her hug me, she tells me that I've gained a new family whether I wanted one or not! I'm not sure if I want to smile or cry. I think I did both.

"Medical Mumbo Jumbo"

After wading through the big words on the surgical pathology report, I saw some easy ones that I didn't like, such as "poorly" and "unfavorable."

The phrase I understood was "Invasive Ductal Carcinoma." That is the most common type of breast cancer. It starts in the ducts and then spreads to surrounding tissue. I did not like the word "invasive."

The word "poorly" was in reference to my cells. They are either well-differentiated (which is apparently best), moderately-differentiated or poorly-differentiated (which is the least favorable type). It also stated "unfavorable nuclear grade." I found out that basically means the nucleus doesn't look good and is a grade 3 (on a scale of 1 to 3). This has to do with the aggressiveness of the cancer. I can't say any of this seemed like a bright spot to me at the time.

My Dad showed the report to a pathologist friend of his at work. He handed it back to my Dad and said "This is very bad, but at least it is treatable." I didn't like the first part of that sentence, but the last three words started to make things look a little brighter.

"Shell-shocked"

Shell-shocked: mentally confused, upset, or exhausted as a result of excessive stress.

The doctor kept asking me if I was alone. She asked if my husband or someone could be with me. The way she was talking I thought I was going to die! She told me to get my husband and come on in to the office. I called him at work and he picked me up immediately. She saw us right away and showed us the pathology report. I didn't understand a word it said. I did, however, understand that she was diagnosing me with breast cancer. BREAST CANCER! Even during the mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy it had never occurred to me that the outcome would be breast cancer.

After some time of feeling mentally worn out by just taking in the news, I began to try to decode the pathology report. I talked to my Mom (who is also an RN) and my Dad (who is a medical technologist in a hospital lab). I looked up every word online. Information gives me comfort. What I came up with was this: the tumor is small, but aggressive.

"The Bombshell"

June 25, 2012...D-Day...the day that will live in infamy for me personally. Oh, and it was a Monday (figures)! A busy morning of getting everyone ready for getting where they needed to be. My husband left for work and took the baby with him to drop off at the sitter on his way. I had just finished getting ready for work and watched my daughter get on the bus for summer school. As I was gathering my things, my phone rang. I figured someone had forgotten something!

It was the doctor's office receptionist informing me that my biopsy results were in and could I please make an appointment to come in and see the doctor about the results the next day. I could just feel the color draining out of me as my heart started pumping like crazy. I told her that I did not want to make an appointment, thank you very much, I wanted the doctor to call me today and tell me the results. I wasn't waiting 24 hours to unravel this mystery. I could tell she didn't want to do it that way, but said she would have the doctor call me.

As soon as I hit END on my phone, I started dialing my Mom at work and lost it. I told her it was obviously bad news! I didn't even finish talking to her before the doctor herself called me back. I was crying and upset before she even said a word. She just kept saying "I really don't want to do this over the phone. Jennifer, I really don't have good news."

"The Big Needle"

Almost a week later, I faced off against the big needle. My nerves were all over the place! I had an ultrasound-guided core needle biopsy. After finding the area they wanted to biopsy with the ultrasound, the radiologist injected local anesthetic. That stings, but not for long. After that, I couldn't tell you what they did because I certainly wasn't going to peek! After the hollow needle was placed, a vacuum type device helps suck out a piece of the bad blob. They tape the tiny incision with steri-strips, cover it with a dressing and wrap a big ace bandage around you.

I was told my doctor would call me with the results in a few days. I was sore for a bit, but glad to have it over. I honestly thought I would now be able to move on and put this whole deal behind me!

"The Big Squish"

Two days after I saw my primary care physician, I found myself parking my car in front of a building that featured large letters spelling out "cancer center." Is that some kind of scare tactic? Must have been a major design flaw because I was here for a simple mammogram and was much more worried about squishing and flattening than cancer. The diagnostic mammogram was a snap. I was shocked! All that complaining I'd heard from other women about the pressing and pushing and squishing and squashing didn't amount to a thing! I was so relieved. I was then told the radiologist wanted an ultrasound. Well, having just given birth 10 months ago, I was intimately familiar with ultrasounds! This wasn't going to be a bad visit at all!

Until...(you knew this was too easy)...the radiologist herself came into the room and told me and my husband that we needed to schedule a biopsy. A biopsy!!! Wait, are we ruling out a cyst? She didn't exactly answer and I didn't take that as a good sign. Plus, doesn't a biopsy involve a large needle? Needles and I do not exactly get along. In fact, we have a long history of a less than stellar relationship. But, as I am finding out, this was just one bump in a long road ahead.

"I do not have good news"

Breast cancer at age 38 was not on my "to do" list. My plan was to save all major health issues for when I got older. I would have more time, no children in the house, fewer responsibilities, and...(wait)...yep, I think I just heard God laugh at my plan. I was far from laughing two and a half weeks ago when the doctor called and said "I do not have good news." I didn't really have to hear more. I knew what that meant.

I was having pain in my right breast on and off for a few weeks. I knew it was nothing and that going to the doctor about it would be just downright silly, but I finally decided to check it out anyway. She felt a lump. She called it a grape and had me feel it too. I still wasn't worried. After all, she didn't seem worried and told me not to "freak out." She ordered a diagnostic mammogram and I sighed inside (because I really thought I could avoid the big squish for two more years)! While I was bemoaning the mammogram (in my head) she explained that a biopsy could come next, but even still that was nothing to "freak out" about. The last thing she said was "if it is breast cancer, then you have a free pass to freak out!"  Honestly, who really thought that was going to happen?!