Faithfully Fighting

Ok, got my initial diagnosis today.  The cancer is definitely back.  The MRI showed a clear area and possibly/probably lymph node  involvement.  Probably Stage III.  I tried to coax out of her a possibility of stage II, but she really didn’t want to budge.   My surgeon was almost outraged that it came back with such a fury.  She said, twice, that there was nothing there 6 months ago! 

Mom went with me today and she was the bravest woman I know.  I shouldn’t have been surprised, she usually is.  My lovely 74 year old mother, is my rock.

I have a biopsy on Tuesday.  I’m not really sure what that’s about accept to get a lab diagnosis.  Then on the 21^st I see the plastic surgeon and my breast surgeon again, so I will schedule the surgery then.  I’ve decided on a bilateral mastectomy.  I’m hoping they can do a rebuild at the same time, the one where you get the tummy tuck.  I’ll know more when I see the plastic surgeon.

I asked her if I could wait until my grandbaby is born to have my surgery.  She said she wanted to do it as soon as possible.  I saw her face saying this came on fast, we don’t want it to spread.  Probably be really close to the time the baby comes. 

I know I’m not my usual funny, silly self today.  I promise the next message will be better.  I’m just feeling worn out.  Just wanted to post, so people would know what’s going on.

     Today was MRI day.    I thought I had prepared myself pretty well for the day.  I worked like a dog yesterday at work and got a lot done, plus had 3 meetings that felt very productive.  I picked Katie, my 7 year old, up from mom and dad’s after work, made a good supper and made sure homework was done.  I tried not to think about anything and kept really busy doing laundry, bath time, clean up, etc.  Took Katie to her Dad’s, my ex-husband’s house, so he could put her on the bus in the morning.  Prayed with Pete, my boyfriend of 2 years over the phone.  I went to bed really tired and fell asleep fast.

      At 3:00 a.m. this morning I was awake and afraid.  The dark alone, is a bad time for me.  My busy mind doesn’t like to stop working when I’m ready to rest.  I think I might have gotten an hour or so more sleep.      Katie called me this morning, before I left for the hospital, from her Dad’s house.  She asked me if I wanted to pray with her.  It is common for us to pray together at night, but she’d never asked if we could pray in the morning.  I said ok, thinking she would want me to start, but she took off right away.  “Dear Jesus, please make mommies test go good and make there be no cancer.  She has already been through so much with the cancer before and I want us to be able to do things, so please make her all better and the test to go good.”  Ok, so at this point I had to suck back the huge tears in my eyes and try to finish the conversation without her knowing I was ready to crumble into a weeping ball.  I kissed her off to school with all my love.  My grown daughter (the one who's carrying my first grandchild) text messaged me that she loved me.     

Pete came by this morning at 7:45 to take me to the hospital for the test.   I have to explain that I am not afraid of needles, or closed in spaces, or loud noises.  I am not crazy about new drugs in my body.  So my biggest fear for this test was the “contrast” they would inject into me during the test.  I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous.    10 cc of some mystery liquid that would last 15 minutes was my big fear of the morning.  As they repeatedly went through the litany of questions, two or three times, I would shake my head no.  Then I would get a blank empty stare when I asked if we could do the test without the contrast.  For a moment I thought I had an ape sitting on my head.  They would explain that it was very rare for people to have reactions, yada, yada, yada.  Ok, I get it, it’s an unreasonable, ridiculous fear.  But it’s mine and I’m holding on to it, dagone it!     

The technician was a very nice man.  He asked me if I have anything in my pockets (my top is in a hospital gown, but I got to keep my pants).  I can’t think much so I reach into my pockets to check and I pull out one item.  My Daily Bread Devotional from this morning.  You know how you get those days, when you feel that God is talking directly to you.  Well this morning was “When Life Goes Bad” 1 Samuel 30:1-6.  All about one of David’s most bleakest moments.  The devotion says In what ways can we strengthen, encourage, or refresh ourselves in the Lord when we’re feeling discourage? Remember what God had done and remember what God has promised: Be strong and of good courage;. . . for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” Josh 1:9      I showed the technician the devotion, he said it was paper and I could keep it in my pocket if I wanted to.  I wanted to.     

For the next 30 minutes I listened to loud banging and binging and growling as I laid face down with my boobs hanging through a large rack.  The noise was bigger than huge as I lay as still possible.  Once in a while the tech would talk to me like mission control, “Your half way through, . . . injecting contrast now. . .this is the last round”   Every once in a while, as I felt the panic rise in my throat, I would swallow and think of the paper in my pocket that said Our greatest strength is often shown in our ability to stand still and trust God.   My job today was to lay still and trust.  So much harder than most any other job I’ve ever done.

I am a breast cancer survivor.  In 2005 (almost exactly 2 years ago) I was diagnosed with DCIS Stage I cancer.  I had a lumpectomy (2 surgeries to get all the margins) and radiation.  I came extremely close to chemotherapy, but after much consultation with several doctors, on their advisement, I opted out (second guessing that decision about now).  I was truely blessed to have wonderful church and real family to support me and love me through everything.

Yesterday I went for my 6 month mammogram.  You know you’re in trouble when the tech says “The radiologist would like to show you your film”.  So you go ahead and get dressed – thank goodness, nothing worse than sitting in a gown with your deformed boob trying to peek out.  Anyway, I followed the 20 something tall young woman to the dark room.  As my eyes adjust I realize that the doctor sitting in front of me might be 30 something.  So Doogie Howser and I sit in front of a large variety of my  shots.

He proceeded to show me my original diagnosis shot from 2 years ago – zeroing in with magnification to the micro-calcifications that started the rolling ball of cancer a-go-go in 2005.  Then he flips a switch and explains the new view is my shots from July of this year.  Notice no shinny spots or tiny poka dots.  Now you know, and I know the punch line is coming.  So I nod and wait for it. . . wait for it. . .  The never ending line of lighted pictures come on again.  Today’s shot appears.  Some of it appears to be a little brighter than others, but it isn’t until he magnifies a bright section and forms a circle with his finger that I see the tiny poka dots he calls more micro-calcification.  My heart drops, same side, same dots.  Then he moves the magical mystical magnifer to another location where there is even more tiny poka dots and finally one more spot.  We have moved from one small area to three very different locations within the same breast.

I’m trying to digest the reality that the 25% chance of reoccurrence within 5 years has most probably become 100% reoccurrence in 2 years.  I knew it was always possible.  I had run into several woman facing a second round of treatment when I was in my first round, many of them just past their 2 year anniversary.  Even Elizabeth Edwards, wife of presidential candidate John Edwards, cancer returned almost 2 years to the date.

The radiology doctor is patiently waiting, I’m not sure for what, maybe tears, maybe questions, maybe for me to leave.  As usual the dozens of questions I will have in an hour have evaded me at the moment.  I did squeak out, “what’s the next step?”  He says he’s already talked to my surgeon (not making me feel better that he called her before he talked to me) and that she wants an MRI, but her office will set that up.

Ok, so my goal at this point is to get out of the woman’s center without bursting into uncontrollable tears.  I walk out, call the surgeon’s office and let them know I need the appointment, they thought the woman’s center was going to make it, ok they’ll do it.  I can see the doctor before if I want to talk to her, but she probably won’t have any answers until I get the MRI. . . . blah, blah, blah.  Come over later and get the order.

I really like my surgeon.  My first impression in 2005 was that she had the personality of a rock garden, but since then we’ve established a relationship.  I ask her questions and she decides how she wants to answer them.  I can wait to see her.  I hate crying in front of her, she seems so strong and authoritative.  I’m sure 50% of it is an act, but we’ve established that it’s an act that works for us.

I call the church and the dear, dear secretary and I discuss and unspoken prayer request, because, quite frankly, I cannot handle the questions, pats on the back and sympathy faces, yet.  I know they love me, and I love them, but I'm just not ready to be strong yet.  The Lord will lift me up, I will wait on Him, but until then I want to crumble.

Now, 24 hours later, I have told my boss, told a few friends and family and I have lots of questions.  Could it be possible that the poka dots aren’t cancer?  Because there are 3 spots does that mean that it’s worse this time?  How do we know if it’s spread?  Should I go to a bigger hospital with fancier facilities?  I’m pretty sure I’ll need a mastectomy, but can I go ahead and give up both boobs and get a rebuild at the same time?  Am I getting ahead of myself?

My MRI is January 8^th and I see the surgeon January 10^th to get my answers asked.  Wonder if I’ll get them answered or just have more questions.

How will my 7 year old react this time.  Will she get angry or just cry.

Wait for the Lord, be of good courage and He will strengthen thine heart.  Wait I say on the Lord.  Psalm 27:14

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