Surgery Sinks In... Or Is It Just The Scalpel?

Here's the full story of my breast cancer scare.

Almost a year ago I found a lump. It was a fluke, a total accident. I usually wash using a mesh 'scrunchie', but for some unknowable reason, that day I just used my hands and shower gel. That's how I found the lump. It was on the outside edge of my right breast.

It took a couple of days to call my gynecologist. I kept forgetting! Yes, I know. That's dumb. That's probably reckless. I'm sure you understand it's not the kind of thing that you want to think about... it just took a while, that's all.

I was referred for a mammogram -- it showed NOTHING. So they wheeled in ultrasound equipment. With difficulty, something kindasorta was there, they weren't sure what. The only sure test for whatever was there, was to search manually.

On my next annual exam my doctor referred me to a surgeon, but she used the term "breast specialist". I pondered the meaning of that title: Breast Specialist. I imagined having that title, and being at a cocktail party. "So what do you do?" "I'm a breast specialist." (pause, as the ice in everyone's glasses clinks musically) "Did you say 'best'?" "I heard 'test', do you test cars, or planes?" (It was fun!) But my GYN explained that to tell someone they are being sent to a "breast SURGEON" is far scarier than a "breast specialist", and I can testify to that.

My surgeon was great, very reassuring, and was confident that my situation was not critical. It was decidet to meet again in 3 months or so (that would be June) for a follow-up. Summers are really busy for us, though, because of the bike training and fund raising we do, plus our wedding was in early July. So I didn't see him again until late July. We decided no surgery unless there was a drastic change.

When I started feeling a pinching, burning sensation in the area of the lump, an internal alarm went off. There was also a warmth in the area that wasn't associated with the usual spike in my menstrual cycle; again, the alarm sounded. This was late September, early October.

This time it took me two weeks to make the call to the doctor. It takes something to wind up that dialing finger to call for someone to slice a hole in my body. Probably a lot of it has to do with finally admitting that there's something really wrong and very scary. Not just hair-raising, but hair-losing scary. Maybe even life-ending scary. And no matter how many people have been there before, it's a very cavernous and alone feeling. Overwhelming? Nope. That word doesn't touch it. Find a bigger one, then double it. Then quadruple it. Then you'll have a close idea.

After that, everything else was relatively easy. The staff at Fairview Hospital were simply amazing. Everytime I have had to be there, for whatever reason, they have outdone themselves with their ability to care. I am smiling as I type! They made me feel special. That's an accomplishment, because I walked in there absolutely terrified, so bravo. You all are superstars.

Recovery has been a breeze, largely because of a textbook job done on my surgery and my marvelous husband. Our pets have been very comforting. Pain management has been practically nothing -- I haven't needed the maximum of the heavy duty 'stuff' EVER, and I have stopped taking it as of Thursday. That's just 2 days post-op, folks! I'm very proud of my body.

Aiding my recovery, of course, is the news that my lump is completely cancer-free. I've been wiping my brow and thanking God hourly since I got the news.

I am adopted, so I have no family medical history. I have no idea what curve balls genetics will be throwing me. I feel like I've just had a dress-rehearsal for The Next Big Thing. I feel like I could possibly help someone else.

I had to tell my story because it underscores the importance of the breast self exam. (And ladies, please check your men. Men have breasts, too...)

posted in honor of all who have fought and won
posted in honor of all who have fought and passed on, including Cleveland Institute of Art Professor Wayne Draznin, 1950-2001