I need to tell my parents today about my cancer. Conveniently they're coming to visit for the holidays, so I'll get to tell them in person rather than dropping the bomb over the phone.
My mom is going to freak. She's always been more concerned about my potential for cancer than I have. I have a feeling she'll blame herself for genetically predisposing me to this. My mom has had breast cancer twice. She's been through lumpectomies and radiation treatments and tamoxifen. And she doesn't want her youngest child to have to go through that too.
But the important thing about my mom is that she is a cancer survivor. This didn't kill her. Her cancer was completely treatable. Twice. And my cancer is also completely treatable. I'd like to think that this is what she genetically predisposed me to. It's the survivor gene.
I'm not looking forward to watching my mother cry. She will cry. I'm certain of it. And then, instead of her comforting me, I will comfort her. I'll remind her that breast cancer is one of the most treatable and curable cancers that exists. I'll remind her that she is a survivor and I will be too.
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I Have Cancer
I always kind of expected I would someday develop breast cancer. I have family history. I have lots of high-risk factors. Someday it would likely be inevitable.
I didn't expect today would be the day.
Last week I had what they call an "excision biopsy" done on a little tiny mass on my left breast. The radiologist found the teensy little spot on my mammogram last October. It's amazing that he found it. It was literally the size of a grain of sand. But in the vein of better safe than sorry I decided to have it removed for biopsy (because it was too small for a needle biopsy). Nobody thought it would be anything. It didn't feel like a cancerous mass. It was too even. Cancerous lumps are usually abnormally shaped. This was smooth and round. But the biopsy went on.
Today the surgeon called. She was quite surprised to find that the tissue around the little mass was indeed cancerous.
I left work and went to the surgeon's office and learned much about what lies ahead. The good news is that this is stage zero breast cancer safely confined to the ducts that carry milk to the nipple. It really isn't even able to spread beyond the ducts. I almost feel guilty saying that I have cancer because it's such a very curable cancer. But it is, nonetheless, cancer. And it's scary regardless of my prognosis.
In a couple more weeks I'll return to the operating room to have more tissue removed from the offending area. And then will come radiation therapy. And perhaps tamoxifen pills for five years. I'll be meeting oncologists and learning things I never wanted to know.
Writing often helps me to cope. And perhaps by doing it in a public forum, my writing might someday help someone else to cope. Thus the blog. The Big C and Me. It's an interesting journey ahead. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
I didn't expect today would be the day.
Last week I had what they call an "excision biopsy" done on a little tiny mass on my left breast. The radiologist found the teensy little spot on my mammogram last October. It's amazing that he found it. It was literally the size of a grain of sand. But in the vein of better safe than sorry I decided to have it removed for biopsy (because it was too small for a needle biopsy). Nobody thought it would be anything. It didn't feel like a cancerous mass. It was too even. Cancerous lumps are usually abnormally shaped. This was smooth and round. But the biopsy went on.
Today the surgeon called. She was quite surprised to find that the tissue around the little mass was indeed cancerous.
I left work and went to the surgeon's office and learned much about what lies ahead. The good news is that this is stage zero breast cancer safely confined to the ducts that carry milk to the nipple. It really isn't even able to spread beyond the ducts. I almost feel guilty saying that I have cancer because it's such a very curable cancer. But it is, nonetheless, cancer. And it's scary regardless of my prognosis.
In a couple more weeks I'll return to the operating room to have more tissue removed from the offending area. And then will come radiation therapy. And perhaps tamoxifen pills for five years. I'll be meeting oncologists and learning things I never wanted to know.
Writing often helps me to cope. And perhaps by doing it in a public forum, my writing might someday help someone else to cope. Thus the blog. The Big C and Me. It's an interesting journey ahead. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
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