Faithfully Fighting

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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