Today is October 1st; the first day of Breast Cancer Awareness month. The day when pink becomes the color of the day. I remember each October I would walk in honor of a loved one battling breast cancer or in memory of a loved one who had died from breast cancer. It seemed like breast cancer surrounded me, but was always one degree or more away from me. Until it wasn’t.
In September 2013 I had a routine OBGYN women’s wellness visit. I completed the visit with the annual mammogram, we all hate to experience. Two weeks later I received a call about abnormalities in my mammogram. This had happened to me multiple times before and without giving it any thought, I went in for the standard “second look”. Afterwards I was scheduled for a more detailed 3-D mammogram as a precautionary measure. I remember sitting in the waiting room and telling my wife everything would be fine as long as the radiologist does not want to see me. About that time, I was called back to see the radiologist. Damn it.
The radiologist showed me the images and pointed out several suspicious abnormalities and she recommended I see a breast specialist. I agreed and the referral was made. Later that same week I was in the breast specialist office and he agreed it looked suspicious and scheduled me for a biopsy, which was scheduled for the following week.
The biopsy table was like nothing I had ever seen. It was elevated and had a hole for the breast to hang down through and the doctor sat in a chair underneath and with the help of x-ray technology began to take pieces of tissue from the suspicious areas. At a later appointment I went back to have small metal markers inserted near the places the biopsies were taken. Marked in the event this particular area was questioned in the future.
At 8:02am on Monday, October 21, 2013 my phone rang as I was getting ready for work. It was the doctor. I will never forget him saying “its breast cancer and I need you in my office at 3:30pm this afternoon. Can you arrange that?” I stumbled around and said “sure”.
My wife came into the bedroom and looked at me anxiously waiting for me to fill her in on what the doctor had said, which I did. She stood in front of me with tears in her eyes and said “we are going to be sad about this today and then we are going to get up and fight.” I agreed. Not knowing what else to do, we finished dressing and went into the office.
At 3:30pm we arrived at the doctor’s office and he explained the “process” saying the first step would be a surgery to remove the sentinel lymph node for testing, to decide if there was any lymph node involvement. Explaining that if lymph nodes were involved it had to pass through the sentinel lymph node first. As it stood, I had two malignancies, both of which were relatively small, with other suspicious areas which had not been tested. This was complicated by the fact one malignancy was on the chest wall. With the malignancies being located so far apart a lumpectomy was not possible, so we decided then and there it would be a double mastectomy. One as treatment and the second as a prophylactic measure.
The slew of doctor appointments began; the hematologist, the radiologist and the plastic surgeon. I was very fortunate, my team of doctors are rock stars. I was further fortunate to have personal health insurance that covered everything, since my deductible had been met earlier in the year.
December 10, 2013 was the first surgery, which was the sentinel lymph node removal. Fortunately, the lymph node came back clear of any malignancies, which confirmed no spread of the cancer outside of the breast area.
December 17, 2013 was the date set for the double mastectomy with DIEP flap reconstruction, a surgery which lasted 15 hours. In a DIEP flap reconstruction my tissue was used to reconstruct the breasts area after amputation. I can remember arriving at the hospital and being in a mental fog of sorts. I was simply putting one foot in front of the other, smiling and saying everything is going to be just fine. But deep inside I secretly wondered how different life would be post-surgery. I stayed in the hospital 4 days and came home to begin the recovery process, as well as the very different post-surgery life.
The tumors removed during the mastectomy showed my diagnosis to be multiple invasive ductal carcinoma, stage 1 grade 2. The type of tumor was estrogen positive.
In an effort to help myself be comfortable with my wife seeing my new body, which by this time had four and half feet of scars on it, I asked her to aid with bandage changes, emptying the drains from surgery, etc. She readily agreed, for which I was thankful. In my mind if she could love me when I was covered with wounds, stitches, blood and drains, certainly she could love my healed, scarred and very different body.
As the New Year arrived, I was still under the care of home health, with surgical drains and wound dressing changes twice a day. There were binders for DIEP flap protection and surgical bras for drain and swelling fortification. I was reporting to the plastic surgeon weekly for progress checks.
In one breast a stitch popped and the center of the breast began to have a concave look, much like an extremely older person without teeth. This breast we named “Grumpy Cat”. Part of the reconstruction in the other breast had necrosis and we named it “Massive Head Wound Harry”. The plastic surgeons office referred to me as Grumpy Cat’s mom.
The dead and dying skin on Massive Head Wound Harry had to be debrided, which was the first of nine surgeries in 2014.
By mid-January 2014 I was more independent and was discharged from home health. It was at this time that I also began a daily regimen of Tamoxifen. By mid-February 2014 I was finally rid of all drains. I would stay in binders until the summer of 2014. My last surgery was in December 2014, when my ovaries were removed.
A total of 11 surgeries in 13 months takes a toll on a body. I can remember looking at my body, after each surgery and wondering what the people who told me I was so lucky to be able to get new “boobs” would think of the reality of breast cancer.
The reality is nerves are severed when the breasts are amputated. For the most part leaving the breast area numb. More often than not the areola and nipple are removed and discarded leaving a scar. New nipples can be constructed, but they have no sensation and they are perpetually erect, which women spend enormous effort to hide with padded bras, etc.
In my case, a large area of skin and muscle was removed from my abdomen to reconstruct the breast area, leaving a scar from hip bone to hip bone. In addition, I have a newly constructed belly button and the lower half of my abdomen is numb. There are scars from the four drains and from the removal of the ovaries. The truth is a battle with breast cancer, more often than not, leaves a person with a body that is no longer familiar to them. It is a scarred body that no longer functions as it once did. A body that does not have the energy it once had. A body that aches from the treatment it endured. A body that will never be the same because the treatment not only kills the cancer, it takes a toll on the rest of the body.
As the body is recovering, the mental and emotional recovery begins. With every new ache or pain the nagging question deep within wondering if “it” is back. With every scan and test there is the breath holding until the result is received.
So when you see pink ribbons this month, please remember the upside to breast cancer is not getting new “boobs”. The upside of breast cancer is the same as the upside of any cancer. Nothing can help a person prioritize their life like a cancer diagnosis. Suddenly, what made you angry last week, seems unimportant. The thoughts that used to consume, now seem petty. The action by someone that seemed unforgivable last month, seems infinitely small in comparison. A cancer diagnosis can bring your life back into focus like a new pair of glasses, which beats new boobs every time.
