Awaiting sentence
Aug. 10th, 2010 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jameydeeIf you haven't heard on Twitter, I've been going through a bit of a "thing."
Wednesday night, I was getting ready for bed. Being sleepy, I yawned, stretched, and reached across to idly scratch my right side, just below the arm pit...and as I brushed the side of my breast, I felt a lump under the skin.
Not a small lump, mind you, but something the size of a golf ball. My immediate reaction was W.T.F.?! Where did that come from? How could I have missed something that size? And, yes, I do regular exams.
Some immediate denial began occuring at this point. Maybe it was some swelling because the end of the underwire in the bra was poking me. Maybe it would be gone in the morning. Maybe a lymph node was swollen, maybe I was coming down with something. (The ugly voice in my head muttered something dire about lymph node involvement.)
Of course, being the creature of the internet that I am, I immediately hit Der Google and found out about the various types of lumps:
Three of the four are benign. In fact 80% of all lumps turn to be harmless. That's what I kept telling myself that night as I tried to fall asleep. No family history of breast cancer. Fibroids, yep; ovarian cysts, yes; breast cancer, no.
Of course, the first thing I did Thursday morning was check to see if the lump was still there. Maybe I dreamt it? Ah, sweet denial! No such luck. I called the doctor for an appointment. They scheduled me for a lunchtime appointment.
After the doctor examined me, he told me they would set up the appointments for me. Glancing at the paperwork he gave me to give the nurse, the word ASAP were underlined. Before I knew it, I had appointments for a Friday morning mammogram and a Monday surgical consult in rapid succession.
You know, I expected the mammogram, but it does make you wonder what your doctor REALLY thinks when he goes ahead and schedules the surgical consult... And all the things you wonder about? Let's get this out of the way: none of them are good.
I was in the car when the whole thing finally hit me. This is really happening.
Since the doctor's office was only a mile or two from my house, I stopped there and basically just lost it. If you're going to indulge in good old-fashioned hysteria, nothing like the comfort of your own home. It seemed like a long time, but it was probably more like 15 minutes, but I finally pulled myself together and went back to work.
This was my first mammogram. The doctor jokingly described it as getting your breast stomped on by an elephant. Yeah, inelegant, but accurate. As I tried to describe it to Mike and ichicolco, imagine putting your penis on a shelf, having them mash down a clear plastic plate on top of it, just to the point of discomfort, and just as you think to yourself, "That's not so bad, I can take that," then they turn the knob two more times and REALLY flatten you out. It is telling there are grip bars, ostensibly so you can maintain your balance, but more useful for something to clench as your grit your teeth in pain. Luckily you only have to maintain each stance for a few seconds. And then they change the angle of the shelf/plate and squish you from a different angle.
The tech was very kind and she told me something I really appreciated, "You'll know something before you leave today--you'll see the radiologist after this."
Turns out they wanted to do a sonogram; this was the hospital's SOP. Because I had not been scheduled for one originally, they were going to have to work me in between appointments. Then the bombshell, "We're going to sonogram both breasts; we found a second dense area in the mammogram we want to look at."
They then led me back to the closed door waiting room/dressing room, where I waited, still in my flannel kimono shirt, for an opening in their sonogram schedule. No television, lots of old magazines, and far too much time to think.
Between twittering, leafing through old People magazines, I ran through possible permutations:
Weirdly, I was okay with the idea of a masectomy, it didn't hit me as hard as the idea of a possible hysterectomy when I was waiting on a fibroid diagnosis.
Also interesting, no bargaining with God in my head. My mindset was/is I will play the hand I am dealt. The problem I was having emotionally was that the cards were still face down.
It took a good two hours before they got me in for the sonogram. I was strangely torn; I wanted to watch and see the interlopers in my body, but on the other hand, seeing them would make the situation more real.
The radiologist took that out of my hands; he came in after the initial sonogram to take a look for himself and wanted me to see them and understand them.
The big one, he said, was very defined and the way it reflected, was most likely a cyst. The second one they discovered, was close to the chest wall, under the nipple, and more difficult to see, did not have the same clean shape; it could still be a cyst, though. They would schedule a needle biopsy; they'd take 5 samples from each site. He said most likely the big one would disappear once they did a fine needle aspiration. He also took great pains to tell me he was very good at his job and he would make it virtually painless.
After the sonogram, I had a nurse consult. She asked me if I had any questions. She scheduled my biopsy, explained again what it would entail. I asked for the soonest possible appointment. She said I'd have the results two days after the biopsy, and I would have to come in either way, for the follow-up, not to assume the worse, just because they called me back in.
I'm not 100% in the clear, but I feel quite a bit better.
Oh, and yesterday afternoon, it finally hit me. Five samples from each site. That's a nice way of saying, "We're sticking a needle into each breast 5 times. Little Miss Needlephobe here is oddly at peace with that.
So that's where I'm at. My biopsy is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday night, I was getting ready for bed. Being sleepy, I yawned, stretched, and reached across to idly scratch my right side, just below the arm pit...and as I brushed the side of my breast, I felt a lump under the skin.
Not a small lump, mind you, but something the size of a golf ball. My immediate reaction was W.T.F.?! Where did that come from? How could I have missed something that size? And, yes, I do regular exams.
Some immediate denial began occuring at this point. Maybe it was some swelling because the end of the underwire in the bra was poking me. Maybe it would be gone in the morning. Maybe a lymph node was swollen, maybe I was coming down with something. (The ugly voice in my head muttered something dire about lymph node involvement.)
Of course, being the creature of the internet that I am, I immediately hit Der Google and found out about the various types of lumps:
- Cysts
- Fibroadenomas
- Pseudolumps
- Breast cancer
Three of the four are benign. In fact 80% of all lumps turn to be harmless. That's what I kept telling myself that night as I tried to fall asleep. No family history of breast cancer. Fibroids, yep; ovarian cysts, yes; breast cancer, no.
Of course, the first thing I did Thursday morning was check to see if the lump was still there. Maybe I dreamt it? Ah, sweet denial! No such luck. I called the doctor for an appointment. They scheduled me for a lunchtime appointment.
After the doctor examined me, he told me they would set up the appointments for me. Glancing at the paperwork he gave me to give the nurse, the word ASAP were underlined. Before I knew it, I had appointments for a Friday morning mammogram and a Monday surgical consult in rapid succession.
You know, I expected the mammogram, but it does make you wonder what your doctor REALLY thinks when he goes ahead and schedules the surgical consult... And all the things you wonder about? Let's get this out of the way: none of them are good.
I was in the car when the whole thing finally hit me. This is really happening.
Since the doctor's office was only a mile or two from my house, I stopped there and basically just lost it. If you're going to indulge in good old-fashioned hysteria, nothing like the comfort of your own home. It seemed like a long time, but it was probably more like 15 minutes, but I finally pulled myself together and went back to work.
This was my first mammogram. The doctor jokingly described it as getting your breast stomped on by an elephant. Yeah, inelegant, but accurate. As I tried to describe it to Mike and ichicolco, imagine putting your penis on a shelf, having them mash down a clear plastic plate on top of it, just to the point of discomfort, and just as you think to yourself, "That's not so bad, I can take that," then they turn the knob two more times and REALLY flatten you out. It is telling there are grip bars, ostensibly so you can maintain your balance, but more useful for something to clench as your grit your teeth in pain. Luckily you only have to maintain each stance for a few seconds. And then they change the angle of the shelf/plate and squish you from a different angle.
The tech was very kind and she told me something I really appreciated, "You'll know something before you leave today--you'll see the radiologist after this."
Turns out they wanted to do a sonogram; this was the hospital's SOP. Because I had not been scheduled for one originally, they were going to have to work me in between appointments. Then the bombshell, "We're going to sonogram both breasts; we found a second dense area in the mammogram we want to look at."
They then led me back to the closed door waiting room/dressing room, where I waited, still in my flannel kimono shirt, for an opening in their sonogram schedule. No television, lots of old magazines, and far too much time to think.
Between twittering, leafing through old People magazines, I ran through possible permutations:
- Cancerous, caught it too late, it has metastisized, I liquidate my 401K and frantically go through my travel bucket list, die
- Cancerous, go through masectomy, go through treatment, work for as long as I can, start work on my bucket list, lose the battle, die
- Cancerous, go through masectomy, go through treatment, work for as long as I can, beat it, treat myself to nice new boobs afterwards, work on bucket list, work for as long as I can
- Benign, I get stinkin' wasted, renew my passport ASAP, and start working on my bucket list, work for as long as I can
Weirdly, I was okay with the idea of a masectomy, it didn't hit me as hard as the idea of a possible hysterectomy when I was waiting on a fibroid diagnosis.
Also interesting, no bargaining with God in my head. My mindset was/is I will play the hand I am dealt. The problem I was having emotionally was that the cards were still face down.
It took a good two hours before they got me in for the sonogram. I was strangely torn; I wanted to watch and see the interlopers in my body, but on the other hand, seeing them would make the situation more real.
The radiologist took that out of my hands; he came in after the initial sonogram to take a look for himself and wanted me to see them and understand them.
The big one, he said, was very defined and the way it reflected, was most likely a cyst. The second one they discovered, was close to the chest wall, under the nipple, and more difficult to see, did not have the same clean shape; it could still be a cyst, though. They would schedule a needle biopsy; they'd take 5 samples from each site. He said most likely the big one would disappear once they did a fine needle aspiration. He also took great pains to tell me he was very good at his job and he would make it virtually painless.
After the sonogram, I had a nurse consult. She asked me if I had any questions. She scheduled my biopsy, explained again what it would entail. I asked for the soonest possible appointment. She said I'd have the results two days after the biopsy, and I would have to come in either way, for the follow-up, not to assume the worse, just because they called me back in.
I'm not 100% in the clear, but I feel quite a bit better.
Oh, and yesterday afternoon, it finally hit me. Five samples from each site. That's a nice way of saying, "We're sticking a needle into each breast 5 times. Little Miss Needlephobe here is oddly at peace with that.
So that's where I'm at. My biopsy is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
Wish me luck!
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no subject
Date: 2010-08-10 06:14 pm (UTC)Your experience follows our's closely.
Found something, called for appt, was rushed in, rushed to testing, rushed to biopsy. They were going to wait 3 weeks for the actual, we had a prepaid vacation in place. "Can we wait 4 weeks?" They got C in for surgery in 1.5 weeks.
That was the most horrible 4 weeks total of our time together. Yes, we jumped to the same conclusions. Yes, we lost it multiple times. Yes, we survived!
C just pasted 7 years.
Still gets semi-annual mammograms (Have they warned you about that particular after effect?) and still still sees both the Surgeon & Oncologist once a year. This may be the last year for the Surgeon. Oncologist is on board for till she has her 10th anniversary.
You have a support system, even if the guys don't get it, use them. Even if all they do is sit and wait with you at the appointments, having them there will help you loads.
Again *HUGS*
Knowing what to expect
Date: 2010-08-12 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-10 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-11 03:00 am (UTC)Best wishes going out to you
Date: 2010-08-11 11:06 am (UTC)Lumps and such
Date: 2010-08-18 01:41 pm (UTC)Referred to Oncologist who did PET scan to determine stage and attack mode. Fortunatley for us, turned out she was Stage 1 with possible early Stage 2 signs. Recommended 6 months, twice monthly chemo only attack and radiation only after chemo was done and if necessary.
Second surgery to install a port-a-cath in her chest to provide a means of delivering chemo without having to get an IV every two weeks with chemicals that become explosive if exposed to direct sunlight for extended time.
Now she has 5 in scar on her left boob with a metal device implanted directly into her artery that will be removed (more suregery) in Dec. She has already stated that when last surgery is done and healed, she is getting "Maganda Ko" tattoed above the scare.
Flash forward to end of May. She now has buzz cut (read no hair) but refuses to wear wig and only wears do rags out in the sun. Test results came back completely negative!!!! Now she is on mandatory test schedule for about 5 yrs then annual tests for rest of her life. Hair is coming in, still needs surgery to remove the port-a-cath.
So, I do agree that a good drink is well deserved and required. Breakdown is definately warranted, hardest part for me of all this was being strong for her, focusing on better, not on what ifs. Yes, I did lose it at work one day looking at picture of her but never let her know. Did tons of research on cancer, chemo, surgical procedures etc etc.
In the end, thank goodness you are ok and compared to all the other scenarios, couple small cuts and a bruise are nothing.