My Story - Early Days
Continuing on from The Beginning....
At least I caught it early. That was my main solace in the days after I got the news that I had breast cancer.
I got around to googling breast cancer. I found out that for a lump my size, less than 2cm, the treatment was a lumpectomy and 6 weeks of radiation. 6 weeks! Daily radiation! It was a bit of a downer.
Still. I could manage that. It didn't really feel like I had cancer. I felt like a fraud. I had caught it so early. Stage 1. Stage 2a at most.
I researched how to deal with the side effects of radiation. I decided that I was going to get a tattoo to cover my lumpectomy scar. I spent more time researching tattoos than radiation. I thought an infinity symbol would be nice. Nothing pink. No ribbons.
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Because I had caught it so early, it wasn't hard to tell people the news. In fact I wanted to tell people, just in case they had been putting off seeing the doctor themselves. I knew now how important it was to catch these things early. It had saved my life. It had spared me chemo. It had saved my hair.
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Telling people is an art. I got better at it over time, but the first few people I told, my family, got given the news in a very mixed up way.
I felt this was news to be shared in person as much as possible, like pregnancy. It was a milestone type event.
I learnt to give the news by: 1. Preparing the way. Flagging that bad news was coming. 2. Saying: "I have breast cancer". Quick and to the point. Don't drag it out. 3. Jump to the good news. "I caught it early. I'm not going to die. I'm not doing chemo". 4. Let them ask a question or two. "I'm not losing my hair". "I'm fine". "I'm still in denial". 5. Change the topic. I realised that I had to let people know that we could talk about normal things. I would change the topic as fast as I could.
I didn't feel the need to hide my news. I know some people keep it a secret. I knew that was impossible for me, and it wasn't something I wanted to demonstrate to my daughter.
I didn't post it on Facebook, though. I had to tell the people I saw day to day because I thought it would be difficult to hide, but I didn't see the need to tell the world at large.
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The other good news was that we had private health insurance. Unbeknownst to me Mike had signed us up for hospital cover via his work. So, this meant that I could have the surgery almost immediately with the surgeon of my choice, instead of waiting up to 6 weeks in the public system.
I wasn't worried, but at the same time I wanted this thing out.
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We met with the surgeon and that is when I started to blog about this. There was so much information to absorb. It was hard to convey when talking to people. Easier to write it down. Then people could read if they want to, or not. Then we could talk about something else.
The surgeon, David, confirmed that a lumpectomy and radiation had just as good an outcome as a mastectomy. Given the size of my lump, small, and my lack of family history, he recommended a lumpectomy.
David would do the surgery and then he would pass me onto the radiologist. He also gave me the details of a "breast care nurse" who was available to talk to. I didn't feel the need to talk to her because it was all pretty straight forward. I took her details anyway.
Oh, and David also mentioned one other thing. At the same time as the lumpectomy he was going to do a Sentinel Node biopsy to confirm my lymph nodes were clear. He would just put some radioactive fluid in near the lump and remove any lymph nodes that took up the fluid. They would be checked to make sure they didn't have cancer and then we would know for sure if it hadn't spread.
The surgery was booked for the following week. I squeezed in a visit to the breast care nurse, Gill, to see if there was anything I needed to do to prepare for the radiation. Maybe start moisturising my skin? She said it was fine. "It's early days yet".
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The day of the surgery was quite long and busy. First I had to go to nuclear medicine in the public hospital to get the radioactive fluid injected into my lump as part of the Sentinel Node biopsy. Part of the process involved me "massaging" my breast for ages, I forget for how long, long enough that they left me alone in the room, and I started to dance around and hum, all while massaging my breast.
After that they put me into one of those machines to check that radioactive fluid had been taken up, then I was on my way. By this stage I was wearing my jeans, and a surgical gown with a cardigan over the top.
Next step was back to Luke, "the best aim in the business", to get a hook wire inserted. This was meant to mark where my lump was, so the surgeon David could easily find it. The CT scan was used to try to find the lump again, but the biopsy had pretty much removed it. Still the wire was put in the rough spot, and I headed off again, walking the corridors in my gown and jeans pulling my trolley bag behind me.
Finally I checked in for my surgery. I swapped surgical gowns, took off my jeans, handed over my trolley bag, and put on knee high surgical socks and a bath robe, and I waited, and I waited. Luckily I had kept my iPhone on me, despite the warnings of theft. I listened to calming music, and my meditation app. No one chatted in the waiting lounge. Just a bunch of super nervous people in bath robes and knee high socks sitting on peach recliners.
Once it was my turn, I got on the hospital bed and was pushed up to the waiting area outside the operating theatre. The anesthetist offered me "champagne" and soon I was out to it.
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Next. Sucks to be me.