"The Home Run of Good News!"

For the first time since my surgery, I left the house! Now, before you start thinking that a post-op visit with the surgeon isn't exciting, let me correct your thinking! It was the most exciting thing I've done in quite some time, because she had nothing to give me but good news!

The final lab report was so positive, I may have to frame it! She got the entire tumor out with "clean margins" (that's important in case you don't know about such things), all five lymph nodes that were removed tested negative for cancer! That means no cancer had spread! Also, the cancer had not made its way into the blood stream even at the site of the tumor!

My entourage (Mom and Husband) and I were practically standing up and cheering like we were at a ball game and someone had hit a home run! Someone pass the peanuts!

"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.