A Cancer Journey That Has Just Begun

A Cancer Journey That’s Just Begun

I have just been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I am 37 years old.  This is the story of my journey since my initial diagnosis one week ago...

Doctor:  Maryann, I am sorry to say that you do indeed have breast cancer and you will need to see a surgeon.

Me:  Huh?  What?  I do?  How?  Me?  No, that’s silly.  You funny lady!  No, you’re not a funny lady?  Oh, no.  Do I really?  What do I do?  Whom do I call?  Are you serious?  Come on!  Oh my God…

The doctor gave me a list of four surgeons to call. Okay.  Am I supposed to just call and tell them I need them to do surgery?  What kind of surgery?  I need to do research.  Where do I start?   My brain went into complete overload, and utter panic set in.  This thing is growing while I’m sitting here freaking out! 

I have to call surgeons!  I have to call right now!   I need to get this out today!  Who will perform surgery today!?

Well, it doesn’t work like that when you have breast cancer.  Things take time.  I had to get an appointment with a surgeon.  Most couldn’t see me for a week.  I couldn’t wait that long.  I asked around.  Does anyone know of a great breast surgeon?  And someone did!  Lucky for me, she squeezed me in the next day.  I couldn’t believe it!  I got an appointment with this highly recommended surgeon the next day! 

Thank you, Lord!  Boy, did I need this!  I will celebrate this little victory, I certainly will.

I had to get all of my mammogram slides and all of my reports from my biopsies, and I had to fax them in to her office immediately.  Then, Anthony (my husband), my Mom, and I went to the appointment.  We sat in the waiting room staring at each other.  Mint anyone?  Then we read magazines, mentally wondering what we were in for and stared at each other some more.  Then we met my surgeon and stared at her like three deer caught in car headlights, while she outlined the next course of action.

I have breast cancer that is “in situ” which means, “in sight” but in the biopsy report it also showed that my “in situ” was showing signs of early invasion.  That is not good.  You don’t want your cancer to be showing any signs of invasion whatsoever.  So we needed to get the proof.  We needed tests, lots of tests.  Tests to see if there is metastatic activity.  We don’t want that.

I needed a chest x-ray, blood work, bone scan, PET scan/CT, and a Bilateral Breast MRI and I needed them fast!  So off I went to get them and wait for the results.  Waiting is tough.  Waiting is really tough.  I don’t wait well.

Then I panicked about my insurance.  Will they pay for all of this?  I had to get answers.  So, since I am so clever, and perhaps unstable at that point, I called my insurance, posing as a prospective buyer of their insurance plan.  I asked hypothetical questions, not giving anything away.  Hey, call me paranoid, but you never know what they are going to write down on your file if you tell them what is going on. 

The next step was to meet with my surgeon’s team of doctors.  We met, they gave me a lot of information and after hearing it all, I knew that I would be in great hands. 

I’ll be honest, going to the basement of a hospital to the “Nuclear Medicine” department to get tests done is not my idea of a good time.  It is downright scary.  And having a PET scan is no easy task, either.  It’s like lying naked inside of a fire engine as it roars to an inferno.  I wasn’t a big fan of the procedure, but I am so grateful that in my lifetime, these tests are possible.  Can you believe there are machines that can tell you what is going on inside your body without having to open you up – that is genius.

So, now my tests are in, I have my results, and I am in the zone.  It looks like there is no metastatic activity in my lymph nodes (the highway to the rest of my body) but we will not know it until the “tissue” is removed and analyzed. 

I will know my systemic treatment once I have a mastectomy.  Big sigh.  Hugh sigh.  Sadness and stake into my heart sigh.  But, if I want my 100 years, I have to move forward and stop sighing. 

I’m going to live.  I caught it early.  I did a self-test and found a lump.  I have breast cancer.  I’m going to kick this breast cancer’s ass.  I am going to have surgery.

My journey has just begun...