AKA Breast Cancer Awareness Month
I must say that our corporate friends are really jumping on board to promote breast cancer awareness. Last month, while in Target, following one of my post-surgical appointments, I found an end-cap (might have even been 2) covered in pink kitchen appliances. Just what I need, a pink can opener! Doesn't Dyson makes a pink vacuum? The grocery store even has pink boxes of cereal (is it Cheerios, I can't remember).
My October issue of Real Simple published an article on breast cancer basics and ran plenty o' pink ribbon ads. I'm sure many other women's magazines did the same. Unfortunately, I am not in the mood for breast cancer awareness to be plastered everywhere. I'd like to leave my house to buy some milk & toilet paper, or read a magazine, and not be reminded.
I would also like to complain about this exploding marketing trend of pushing pink stuff but I can't because the marketing of this disease helps raise awareness, which raises money, which helps the medical community do further research, which is assisting my doctors and their teams with keeping me alive.
A friend of mine recently recommended to me an author who contributes to a blog which has entertained me with its witty sarcasm towards the commercialness of the breast cancer awareness month. So instead of complaining, I will share The Stupid Cancer Blog with you. Enjoy!
30 September 2008
28 September 2008
Neither a cliche nor a coherent thought
My post today was going to be on the recent changes in my life but everything I wrote (and then erased) has been a cliche. Nobody wants to read that crap, and I don't want to write it. Sorry. Maybe I'll do it better next time. Instead here is an update on my weekend activities:
My sisters came to visit me this weekend. We had a great time. We watched movies, drank wine (the first drinks that I have had since surgery), went to a day spa, and ate like pigs. I am sad to see them leave. They drove away in their rental cars a little while ago so they can catch their respective flights back to urban civilization.
Last weekend was supposed to have been my bachelorette "party" weekend. The plan was to stay at our mother's condo at the beach in Delaware. I never knew any of the secret plans that my sister Jennifer had thought up, but I am sure it would have been great. Unfortunately, we had to cancel the weekend because I couldn't travel with a tube coming out of my side -- not an optimal set-up for a relaxing weekend with friends at the beach. The cancellation also meant that I am not going to experience my annual "dip the feet into the atlantic ocean" renewal. Maybe an explanation as to why this year has felt a little off? Every year I put my feet in the ocean, even for a minute.
A couple of friends did visit with me last weekend. One friend came for the night. We had a great time watching movies, staying up late chatting, eating pizza and other horrible foods, etc... Brandon and I met up with another friend in Columbus for lunch -- the lunch where I wore pajama pants to a nice restaurant (For those who are concerned about my state of (or absence of) dress, I have begun to wear jeans again).
It is nice to see friends and to pretend that my life is still normal, but I can barely close a car door on my own and my chest scars hurt. I must do these arm exercises in order to regain full mobility in my right arm. I'm not so good at remembering but the threat of going to physical therapy has me trying my best to do them at least every other hour or so. Hopefully my arm muscles will be back to their original state very soon. I'll soon need to regain the ability to lift a suitcase into an airplane's overhead luggage bin.
Ok, time for me to stop rambling. I've even bored myself. I'll try to do better next time. Sometimes a blog entry is just an opportunity for me to get some thoughts that are floating around in my head out into the open air. Whether the sharing of thoughts is a good idea or bad idea remains to be seen.
My sisters came to visit me this weekend. We had a great time. We watched movies, drank wine (the first drinks that I have had since surgery), went to a day spa, and ate like pigs. I am sad to see them leave. They drove away in their rental cars a little while ago so they can catch their respective flights back to urban civilization.
Last weekend was supposed to have been my bachelorette "party" weekend. The plan was to stay at our mother's condo at the beach in Delaware. I never knew any of the secret plans that my sister Jennifer had thought up, but I am sure it would have been great. Unfortunately, we had to cancel the weekend because I couldn't travel with a tube coming out of my side -- not an optimal set-up for a relaxing weekend with friends at the beach. The cancellation also meant that I am not going to experience my annual "dip the feet into the atlantic ocean" renewal. Maybe an explanation as to why this year has felt a little off? Every year I put my feet in the ocean, even for a minute.
A couple of friends did visit with me last weekend. One friend came for the night. We had a great time watching movies, staying up late chatting, eating pizza and other horrible foods, etc... Brandon and I met up with another friend in Columbus for lunch -- the lunch where I wore pajama pants to a nice restaurant (For those who are concerned about my state of (or absence of) dress, I have begun to wear jeans again).
It is nice to see friends and to pretend that my life is still normal, but I can barely close a car door on my own and my chest scars hurt. I must do these arm exercises in order to regain full mobility in my right arm. I'm not so good at remembering but the threat of going to physical therapy has me trying my best to do them at least every other hour or so. Hopefully my arm muscles will be back to their original state very soon. I'll soon need to regain the ability to lift a suitcase into an airplane's overhead luggage bin.
Ok, time for me to stop rambling. I've even bored myself. I'll try to do better next time. Sometimes a blog entry is just an opportunity for me to get some thoughts that are floating around in my head out into the open air. Whether the sharing of thoughts is a good idea or bad idea remains to be seen.
23 September 2008
Order of Events, Will it ever end?
My mother arrived in Ohio the night before the appointment at the Breast Clinic. The three of us (Brandon, my mother, and me) woke up at 5:30am to be in Cleveland in time for my breast MRI, which was scheduled for 8:40am. Thanks to Cleveland morning traffic, road construction in the city, and having never been to the Clinic before, we barely made it on time -- but we did. The MRI process took about 17 minutes. Lying totally still while having a slightly chilled fluid pumped into my bloodstream via an IV was surreal but not as horrible as I expected. I did not feel particular enclosed since the machine was open at each end. The noise of the machine was loud but I wore ear plugs which helped muffle the sound.
After the MRI, I completed the CCF's Health Quest, which is an electronic form required of most CCF patients. Someone told me it was for the anesthesiologist. The form is also used by the surgeons to determine your health levels in regards to surgery. In my pre-op appointment, many of my responses to this questionnaire were referenced.
Finally, around 10am, it was time to meet the surgeon and her team. The surgeon's team includes a physician's assistant, nurse, and secretary. Plus I met a few residents, interns and medical students throughout my surgical experience. I brought with me to Cleveland, my mammogram, ultrasound and pathology reports with me. My local hospital had overnighted my biopsy lab slides. The surgeon was able to see all of my medical reports before even meeting me.
As with the other surgeon, this one also did not sugarcoat the diagnosis. She explained what was happening on the inside of me, and the treatment options. She then briefly felt the lump and my lymph nodes. During our visit, she told me how many of her patients are young women. (What is causing so many women under 40 to develop malignant tumors in their breast? Anyone have any ideas?)
The surgeon arranged for us to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon to discuss reconstruction options. We learned about implants and various reconstruction surgeries with involve moving stomach muscle and/or fat to rebuild the breast. We had hoped to also meet with a radiologist but none were available on such short notice.
Early in the afternoon, we left Cleveland with a lot of information; and a lot of flowers and vegetables from the farmer's market located in the empty lot across from the breast clinic building. Every Wednesday a really nice farmer's market is available on the CCF campus.
The time to make a decision had arrived. I was armed with a lot of information, but no clear path on how to proceed. No one else would (or could) make this decision for me -- it was all mine; and I had no idea what to do.
After the MRI, I completed the CCF's Health Quest, which is an electronic form required of most CCF patients. Someone told me it was for the anesthesiologist. The form is also used by the surgeons to determine your health levels in regards to surgery. In my pre-op appointment, many of my responses to this questionnaire were referenced.
Finally, around 10am, it was time to meet the surgeon and her team. The surgeon's team includes a physician's assistant, nurse, and secretary. Plus I met a few residents, interns and medical students throughout my surgical experience. I brought with me to Cleveland, my mammogram, ultrasound and pathology reports with me. My local hospital had overnighted my biopsy lab slides. The surgeon was able to see all of my medical reports before even meeting me.
As with the other surgeon, this one also did not sugarcoat the diagnosis. She explained what was happening on the inside of me, and the treatment options. She then briefly felt the lump and my lymph nodes. During our visit, she told me how many of her patients are young women. (What is causing so many women under 40 to develop malignant tumors in their breast? Anyone have any ideas?)
The surgeon arranged for us to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon to discuss reconstruction options. We learned about implants and various reconstruction surgeries with involve moving stomach muscle and/or fat to rebuild the breast. We had hoped to also meet with a radiologist but none were available on such short notice.
Early in the afternoon, we left Cleveland with a lot of information; and a lot of flowers and vegetables from the farmer's market located in the empty lot across from the breast clinic building. Every Wednesday a really nice farmer's market is available on the CCF campus.
The time to make a decision had arrived. I was armed with a lot of information, but no clear path on how to proceed. No one else would (or could) make this decision for me -- it was all mine; and I had no idea what to do.
22 September 2008
A Whole New Me
My drainage tube was removed earlier this afternoon. I already feel better. The spot where the tube was inserted into me is still sore, but my mobility and my attitude are immensely improved. Plus my fear of the shower is gone, so a real shower is in my very near future. A sigh of relief is shared by all who live near me (including the cats).
19 September 2008
Sweat Pants
"Again with the sweatpants?"
"What? I'm comfortable."
"You know the message you're sending out to the world with these sweatpants? You're telling the world, 'I give up. I can't compete in normal society. I'm miserable, so I might as well be comfortable.'"
- Jerry and George, in "The Pilot"
(quote found on http://www.pkmeco.com/seinfeld/pilot.htm)
So what does it mean when you choose to only wear pajama pants? The only pants that I have worn in the past week are these exceptionally comfortable waffle pajama bottoms from Target. I now have these pants in 4 colors: turquoise, lightish purple, gray, and brown. I wear them everywhere, even to the mall in Cleveland (the brown ones), and I'll be wearing the gray pants to lunch in Columbus at what is considered a "nice" restaurant.
The rural town where I live is not known for its fashion sense. Brandon and I often joke about the clothing styles for the local youth being stuck in 1999. On OSU game days, many locals wander around town in OSU pajama pants. Many of the men in our town choose to go shirtless -- and let me add, very few of them are in the shape to be doing so. I even yelled out of my car once to one man asking him to put a shirt on (he was carrying one in his hand). Until recently, I even wondered if the man who lives across the street from us even owned a shirt other than his work shirt. Now that autumn approaches, he does seem to wear some t-shirt that may be NASCAR-related.
But I digress...
The reason behind my current fashion statement is comfort. I have a drainage tube attached to me that hopefully will be removed on Monday (although my current level of fluids is not decreasing at a rate considered good for tubal removal). All mastectomy patients have drainage tubes. I am lucky, I have only one tube. If more lymph nodes had been removed during srugery, I would have another tube. Until the tube is removed from me, I am not allowed to drive, and will continue to take antibiotics and pain meds. While I can't wait for the tube to be removed, I am fearful of the process. I am told that I will be asked to take a deep breath, and then the surgeon will just yank it out of me.
"What? I'm comfortable."
"You know the message you're sending out to the world with these sweatpants? You're telling the world, 'I give up. I can't compete in normal society. I'm miserable, so I might as well be comfortable.'"
- Jerry and George, in "The Pilot"
(quote found on http://www.pkmeco.com/seinfeld/pilot.htm)
So what does it mean when you choose to only wear pajama pants? The only pants that I have worn in the past week are these exceptionally comfortable waffle pajama bottoms from Target. I now have these pants in 4 colors: turquoise, lightish purple, gray, and brown. I wear them everywhere, even to the mall in Cleveland (the brown ones), and I'll be wearing the gray pants to lunch in Columbus at what is considered a "nice" restaurant.
The rural town where I live is not known for its fashion sense. Brandon and I often joke about the clothing styles for the local youth being stuck in 1999. On OSU game days, many locals wander around town in OSU pajama pants. Many of the men in our town choose to go shirtless -- and let me add, very few of them are in the shape to be doing so. I even yelled out of my car once to one man asking him to put a shirt on (he was carrying one in his hand). Until recently, I even wondered if the man who lives across the street from us even owned a shirt other than his work shirt. Now that autumn approaches, he does seem to wear some t-shirt that may be NASCAR-related.
But I digress...
The reason behind my current fashion statement is comfort. I have a drainage tube attached to me that hopefully will be removed on Monday (although my current level of fluids is not decreasing at a rate considered good for tubal removal). All mastectomy patients have drainage tubes. I am lucky, I have only one tube. If more lymph nodes had been removed during srugery, I would have another tube. Until the tube is removed from me, I am not allowed to drive, and will continue to take antibiotics and pain meds. While I can't wait for the tube to be removed, I am fearful of the process. I am told that I will be asked to take a deep breath, and then the surgeon will just yank it out of me.
Order of Events, Part Deux
So it seems in my earlier entry on my story, I left you waiting to learn more about my visit to the local surgeon. My mammogram and ultrasound results were ready on a Friday afternoon, and my doctor's office was able to arrange for an appointment with the local surgeon on the upcoming Monday afternoon. I was pleased with how quick the process was moving along.
My visit with the surgeon included meeting the local hospital's Breast Health Navigator, who is a nurse trained to assist women (I don't know about men) with breast health issues, including breast cancer. The surgeon asked me questions about my general health and then proceeded to say that she would like to do a biopsy on the lump; choosing to do a core needle biopsy AKA a stereotactic biopsy (For more information on the different types of biopsies available, see this page on breastcancer.org). What she did was remove multiple small pieces of the tumor for testing. A local anesthesia was used for the procedure, but even so, it was quite uncomfortable. Afterwards, Brandon, who was with me for the appointment, and I went to McDonald's where I ordered a Happy Meal because the toys were Star Wars related but I ended up with some bizarro Storm Trooper/Pan-like toy, instead of the Yoda that I had hoped for. I then returned home to watch a lie on the couch and watch bad movies while using a bag of frozen spinach as my ice pack (I needed to ice location of the biopsy).
The test results took a few days to come back from the lab, and while we had hoped to meet with the surgeon on Wednesday, the appointment did not happen until Friday afternoon. Based on what we learned, that was probably the best time. The surgeon did not waste any time telling us the results, which I liked. Although once the word "cancer" was spoken, I had difficulty focusing on the conversation which lasted about an hour. Prior to the appointment, my gut told me the diagnosis would be cancer, but actually hearing the word, is an experience I hope no one should ever have. Stunned would be the best way to describe my reaction, even now, almost a month later, I am still stunned. When did I become a cancer patient? This is not who I am, but from now on it will be one way to describe me (or, in the future, cancer survivor). It also now makes me a statistic. Who wants to be a statistic? Not me.
But back to the visit with surgeon...
Luckily Brandon was with me, so most of the conversation was between him, the surgeon, and the breast health navigator. Every once in a while, the surgeon would turn to me, force me to look at her, and tell me that "cancer is not a death sentence." From what I do remember, most of the conversation covered the pros and cons of the various options: a lumpectomy followed by radiation, a single mastectomy, or a double mastectomy. Also discussed was the suggestion to have genetic testing to find out of I am genetically predisposed to breast and ovarian cancers. Neither my father nor my mother can think of anyone in their families to have these cancers but then again, a long time ago, people just died. If we were living, 200 years ago, or even 50 years ago, I could have been one of those women who died young and no one would be sure of the causes. I have decided to have genetic testing but not yet.
I can't really say what else was discussed in the surgeon's office that afternoon since I wasn't really a participant. All I knew was that as soon as I left the doctor's office, I was going to call the Cleveland Clinic's Breast Clinic which will fast-track you for an appointment if you have never been there before and you have been recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I called the clinic and got an appointment for the next Wednesday.
My visit with the surgeon included meeting the local hospital's Breast Health Navigator, who is a nurse trained to assist women (I don't know about men) with breast health issues, including breast cancer. The surgeon asked me questions about my general health and then proceeded to say that she would like to do a biopsy on the lump; choosing to do a core needle biopsy AKA a stereotactic biopsy (For more information on the different types of biopsies available, see this page on breastcancer.org). What she did was remove multiple small pieces of the tumor for testing. A local anesthesia was used for the procedure, but even so, it was quite uncomfortable. Afterwards, Brandon, who was with me for the appointment, and I went to McDonald's where I ordered a Happy Meal because the toys were Star Wars related but I ended up with some bizarro Storm Trooper/Pan-like toy, instead of the Yoda that I had hoped for. I then returned home to watch a lie on the couch and watch bad movies while using a bag of frozen spinach as my ice pack (I needed to ice location of the biopsy).
The test results took a few days to come back from the lab, and while we had hoped to meet with the surgeon on Wednesday, the appointment did not happen until Friday afternoon. Based on what we learned, that was probably the best time. The surgeon did not waste any time telling us the results, which I liked. Although once the word "cancer" was spoken, I had difficulty focusing on the conversation which lasted about an hour. Prior to the appointment, my gut told me the diagnosis would be cancer, but actually hearing the word, is an experience I hope no one should ever have. Stunned would be the best way to describe my reaction, even now, almost a month later, I am still stunned. When did I become a cancer patient? This is not who I am, but from now on it will be one way to describe me (or, in the future, cancer survivor). It also now makes me a statistic. Who wants to be a statistic? Not me.
But back to the visit with surgeon...
Luckily Brandon was with me, so most of the conversation was between him, the surgeon, and the breast health navigator. Every once in a while, the surgeon would turn to me, force me to look at her, and tell me that "cancer is not a death sentence." From what I do remember, most of the conversation covered the pros and cons of the various options: a lumpectomy followed by radiation, a single mastectomy, or a double mastectomy. Also discussed was the suggestion to have genetic testing to find out of I am genetically predisposed to breast and ovarian cancers. Neither my father nor my mother can think of anyone in their families to have these cancers but then again, a long time ago, people just died. If we were living, 200 years ago, or even 50 years ago, I could have been one of those women who died young and no one would be sure of the causes. I have decided to have genetic testing but not yet.
I can't really say what else was discussed in the surgeon's office that afternoon since I wasn't really a participant. All I knew was that as soon as I left the doctor's office, I was going to call the Cleveland Clinic's Breast Clinic which will fast-track you for an appointment if you have never been there before and you have been recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I called the clinic and got an appointment for the next Wednesday.
18 September 2008
My Hospital Stay -- the quickie version
So it turns out that a hospital stay is not very relaxing. Nurses, technicians, residents, and interns all wandering in out of your room at all hours of the night and day. During my stay, mid-afternoon was probably the best time to sleep.
My operation went very well, and the initial biopsy done on my sentinel lymph node during surgery showed a clean path which means that the cancer did not spread to the lymph nodes (for more information on sentinel lymph nodes, see
this page from cancer.gov).
Due to some unexpected bleeding in the middle of the night after my surgery, followed by my blood pressure dropping to below 90 for a brief period of time, my surgeon suggested that I stay another night in the hospital. I must say that if you need to have breast surgery, the Cleveland Clinic is the place to go. Warm blankets before, during, and after surgery. Plus the CEO of the CCF wants all breast patients to stay on the VIP floor, so that was pretty cool. I had my own room, and Brandon was allowed to stay with me (he slept on a fold-out chair). The VIP floor has it own menu, so I was allowed to choose my meals, which were very nice. I had filet mignon for one of my dinners. Sadly I missed out on my blueberry pancakes when it was thought that I might need to return to surgery due to the bleeding.
So the reason why I am behind in updating the blog is not totally related to my health. Hurricane Ike whipped through my little town on Sunday night. We received no rain, but heavy winds which the local paper reported as being as strong as 75mph. The electrical power to my house has still not returned. I've heard that it might return this weekend which is not good news to the person who had hoped to watch lots of DVDs this week. I guess it is a good thing that I also like to read and sleep.
My operation went very well, and the initial biopsy done on my sentinel lymph node during surgery showed a clean path which means that the cancer did not spread to the lymph nodes (for more information on sentinel lymph nodes, see
this page from cancer.gov).
Due to some unexpected bleeding in the middle of the night after my surgery, followed by my blood pressure dropping to below 90 for a brief period of time, my surgeon suggested that I stay another night in the hospital. I must say that if you need to have breast surgery, the Cleveland Clinic is the place to go. Warm blankets before, during, and after surgery. Plus the CEO of the CCF wants all breast patients to stay on the VIP floor, so that was pretty cool. I had my own room, and Brandon was allowed to stay with me (he slept on a fold-out chair). The VIP floor has it own menu, so I was allowed to choose my meals, which were very nice. I had filet mignon for one of my dinners. Sadly I missed out on my blueberry pancakes when it was thought that I might need to return to surgery due to the bleeding.
So the reason why I am behind in updating the blog is not totally related to my health. Hurricane Ike whipped through my little town on Sunday night. We received no rain, but heavy winds which the local paper reported as being as strong as 75mph. The electrical power to my house has still not returned. I've heard that it might return this weekend which is not good news to the person who had hoped to watch lots of DVDs this week. I guess it is a good thing that I also like to read and sleep.
08 September 2008
Tomorrow is a big day!
Later this week, I will continue detailing the order of events that brought me to this monumental change in my life. But tomorrow, I will be in surgery. I just called the hospital and my surgery is scheduled for 9:30am. I am to report to the hospital at 8:30am. Since I am not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight tonight, I am glad that the surgery is scheduled relatively early in the morning. And once I am in surgery, Brandon, my mother and father can go eat a huge breakfast, and I will be none the wiser :)
Earlier today I spoke with my physician's assistant who reassured me that the surgical scars will not interfere with my wedding dress lines. Phew! Last night I emailed a photo of the dress to the surgeon, who had promised to try to avoid cutting me in a way that would show any physical scars on my wedding day.
What I can't wrap my head around is how I don't even feel sick. I don't look sick. The lump isn't even painful. The bruise from my biopsy is the only visual detail of the horridness that is inside me. And tomorrow, I lose a breast. Very surreal, very surreal indeed.
Earlier today I spoke with my physician's assistant who reassured me that the surgical scars will not interfere with my wedding dress lines. Phew! Last night I emailed a photo of the dress to the surgeon, who had promised to try to avoid cutting me in a way that would show any physical scars on my wedding day.
What I can't wrap my head around is how I don't even feel sick. I don't look sick. The lump isn't even painful. The bruise from my biopsy is the only visual detail of the horridness that is inside me. And tomorrow, I lose a breast. Very surreal, very surreal indeed.
05 September 2008
Order of Events, Part 1
So... I randomly found the lump in my breast on the evening of 8/7. Thought it was a little strange, so I called my doctor's office the very next morning to make an appointment. Turns out, if you say you found a lump in your breast, a doctor's office will find an appointment for you very quickly (or least that is my experience). After a brief examination, the nurse practitioner decided the lump was worthy of further examination.
The earliest appointment I could get for a mammogram and ultrasound was the next Thursday (8/14). Having a mammogram is an odd experience. For those who have never had one, a mammogram involves having your breast squashed between 2 pieces of metal at a couple of different angles. For more information on mammograms, and a really great picture of one, go to:http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/testing/mammograms/mamm_tech.jsp
The mammogram provides proof that a mass exists in your breast area. I got to see my mammogram immediately following the x-rays, and was shown where the mass is located. The technician was very nice and explained the whole process to me beforehand so there were no nasty surprises. The next day, I was a little sore.
Immediately following the mammogram, I had an ultrasound (aka sonogram); well immediately following the snacks. My local hospital has this great snack collection of fruit cups, graham crackers (and other carb delights), and tea/cocoa for the ladies waiting for their next x-rays. The ultrasound provides the radiologist with a clearer picture of the shape and size of the mass. The ultrasound told my medical providers that I should meet with a surgeon, because whether or not the mass was malignant, it needed to be removed.
My mass is oddly shaped. I think that I was told it was 1.6cm x 1.8cm. Basically, the lump was described as very worrisome. I wish that I could remember the exact phrasing, but I believe that "worrisome due to malignancy concerns" was the statement on my lab report.
So next on my medical agenda was an appointment with the local surgeon...
The earliest appointment I could get for a mammogram and ultrasound was the next Thursday (8/14). Having a mammogram is an odd experience. For those who have never had one, a mammogram involves having your breast squashed between 2 pieces of metal at a couple of different angles. For more information on mammograms, and a really great picture of one, go to:http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/testing/mammograms/mamm_tech.jsp
The mammogram provides proof that a mass exists in your breast area. I got to see my mammogram immediately following the x-rays, and was shown where the mass is located. The technician was very nice and explained the whole process to me beforehand so there were no nasty surprises. The next day, I was a little sore.
Immediately following the mammogram, I had an ultrasound (aka sonogram); well immediately following the snacks. My local hospital has this great snack collection of fruit cups, graham crackers (and other carb delights), and tea/cocoa for the ladies waiting for their next x-rays. The ultrasound provides the radiologist with a clearer picture of the shape and size of the mass. The ultrasound told my medical providers that I should meet with a surgeon, because whether or not the mass was malignant, it needed to be removed.
My mass is oddly shaped. I think that I was told it was 1.6cm x 1.8cm. Basically, the lump was described as very worrisome. I wish that I could remember the exact phrasing, but I believe that "worrisome due to malignancy concerns" was the statement on my lab report.
So next on my medical agenda was an appointment with the local surgeon...
04 September 2008
August 2008
On 8/7/08, barely three weeks after I turned 34 years old, I found a lump in my breast. Two weeks later, a doctor told me it was cancer. Since finding the lump, my life has turned upside down and all around (shocking!).
The purpose of this blog is for me to share my experiences with the lump, and its after effects on my life, and the lives of those around me. I also have been told that journaling can be therapeutic. Plus, maybe I will learn to stop writing in the passive tone :)
The purpose of this blog is for me to share my experiences with the lump, and its after effects on my life, and the lives of those around me. I also have been told that journaling can be therapeutic. Plus, maybe I will learn to stop writing in the passive tone :)
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