Prologue

I guess first I should explain the title. I have had cancer twice before and now I may have it again. On the seventeenth anniversary of the day I started chemotherapy for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I was having a mammogram for a lump I found in my breast.

I kind of feel like a giant cancer cell with legs and arms. But then I think that this cancer thing is happening to the shell in which my being resides. In other words, my being is not affected by what happens to my body (the shell). How I handle this is what determines who I am and who I choose to be.

I remember when I was told I had Lymphoma. My husband was in the Air Force and we were stationed in Alaska. We had to fly to Seattle to go to a larger hospital. I was in a blur, so I pretty much did whatever I was told to do. Have this biopsy, take this test, see this doctor, attend this class, and talk to these people. I did all that. Everything that was done to my body helped, but there was one thing that made me understand that my body isn’t who I am. I walked into a waiting room shortly after my arrival to Seattle and saw a woman with no hair who was wearing a Levi, floppy hat with a huge daisy holding up the front of the brim. She was smiling. I thought at first, What does she have to smile about? But then, I got it. Her body may be ravaged by the disease, but her spirit was alive and well. I decided then that I would also be that kind of patient. It was the best decision I ever made. (I also found a hat like hers and wore it a lot.)

Eight chemo treatments, two biopsies, one insertion of a Groshan catheter, countless blood tests and CT Scans, two blood transfusions, and self injections of a drug to keep my white blood count up and I became a survivor instead of a patient.

Two years ago, I was told I had Endometrial Cancer. Age and experience gave me enough wisdom to say “Just take out everything. I don’t need it anymore.” One CT Scan, one surgery, one small infection, and I was good to go.

And now this……

I am writing this in a day to day format, because I don’t want to forget what happened when and also because my readers (whoever you are) will understand how long it actually takes to get on the road to treatment and, hopefully, remission.

Peace,

Tracy

Days One Through Five

Day One - Friday

I actually didn’t find the lump, my husband did. We were taking a shower together and as he was washing me, he raised my arms. He started to soap up my boobs and suddenly stopped. “This wasn’t here before,” he said. The whole day changed. He got out of the shower, leaving me soapy and doing a self exam. I looked at him through the fogged shower doors; he just put his head down and left the room.

I was more hurt by his reaction than I was by the discovery, so I turned off the shower dried off and followed him to the bedroom. “Why? Why did you walk away?” I said.

“Because I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

You see, cancer doesn’t affect just your body and spirit. It affects all who love you and their spirits. My husband’s spirit was crushed and I felt that it was my fault. Which was stupid! I have no more control of the fact that I may or may not have cancer than I have control over whether the sun rises or not. And yet, guilt was there.

I promised him I would call my doctor on Monday and get in as soon as possible.

We continued our day with a huge new visitor. Nothing felt right anymore.

Day Two and Three – Saturday and Sunday

We were busy. We spent Saturday in Phoenix. I went shopping and Randy tried to help put his new (well, new to him) semi in good working order. I told my sister-in-law because I knew she had had a lump that turned out to be nothing. She told me to get it checked out and call her.

No more talk about the lump or the doctor or what may or may not be growing inside me again.

Day Four - Monday

Got a much needed pedicure with my friend Joanie. She’s so cute and always seems to be happy. It’s kinda contagious. Didn’t say anything to her about the lump. So far, I’ve only told Randy, Kat, my dad, Boneda and Jennifer. If it’s nothing, I don’t want to worry too many people. I’ll let everyone else know when I get the results of the biopsy.

I called my OB/GYN who couldn’t squeeze me in until the end of the month. That didn’t make Randy happy, so I called my Family Practice doctor and her nurse squeezed me in that afternoon.

My doctor is always late, but always takes lots of time with each patient. I guess that’s why I’m willing to wait for an hour to see her. She walked into the room and said, “So, you’ve grown a lump.” She did the exam and she recommended a mammogram. I asked loads of questions. She gave me a few answers and a referral.

I went to my car and called the Radiology office to set up an appointment. They had one for Wednesday. I took it and then called one of my oldest and dearest friends. “Could you come with me on Wednesday? I’m having a mammogram to check out a lump.” She didn’t hesitate in saying “yes”.

My body was tired, but my spirit was lifted.

Day Five - Tuesday

Honestly, I just wanted to get in my car and drive to anywhere but here. I always feel that way when I’m uberstressed. I just want to drive. Just head for the coast, sit on the sand, and breathe in the salt air. It doesn’t do a thing for my shell, but it renews my spirit and I really needed that. But finances being what they are, I didn’t go. I just worked on some things around my house and waited for Wednesday.

Randy left this morning for work and I don’t know when I’ll see him again.I feel very alone.

From the Mammogram to the Biopsy

Day Six - Wednesday

At this point, I have not said a thing to my children. I don’t want them to worry about things that may or may not be. Even though they are in their thirties, they are still my babies and I try to protect them all I can. Which is stupid, but I do. I will tell them when I get the results and know what it is. Good or bad. Then we can all get our spirits together and help each other. Right now, I would just be asking them to wait and worry and worrying wears down the soul. We’ll save the worrying for later, if we have to.

My appointment for my first mammogram EVER was at 10:40, so I was about ½ an hour early and Kat was about 5 minutes late. We’re funny that way; each of us with our own little quirks that kind of meld together.

The mammogram went better than I had expected. I had visions of torture chambers in my head, but it was alright and there was even a teddy bear I could hold. After a glimpse of the mammogram, they did a sonogram. My FIRST sonogram. (Just one big day of firsts.) The radiologist reminded me of a 50’s version of a Yale graduate and it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

After a review of all the pics, they wanted me to come back and do a biopsy. Actually two biopsies – the normal one and one to check out some calcified spots. All this is on my left breast; nothing shows up other than the lump and the calcifications, so I take that as a good sign. I make the appointment for the biopsies for the following Monday. Change back into my clothes and Kat and I go to have coffee.

Day Seven, Eight, and Nine – Thursday, Friday, and Saturday

Not much going on. Normal stuff, like housework and grocery shopping. I talk to Randy a lot on the phone and decide that I want to get my genealogy caught up and work on the journal I’m making for Amy. All of a sudden, my brain is saying I need to get these things caught up. I went through this before and I’m trying to think if it’s just something everyone does after they find a lump or if I truly know that something is wrong. All this time, I’ve thought only that I had a lump, but all of a sudden I think it could actually be Cancer again and I begin getting “my affairs” in order. Seemed like the natural thing to do. I also wrote out a new “bills to be paid list” and finished the squares for my granny square afghan. I guess, if nothing else, the lump has made me finish projects all over the house.

Day Ten - Sunday

I went to church with Boneda and Robert at 7:40 am. Didn’t like it. It felt more like a production number for a little theater than a church service. I won’t go again, but I would like to test out a couple more churches on Sundays when Randy isn’t home. He hates church. Something that happened to us a long time ago he just can’t drop, but that’s him – not me.

I spent the rest of the day with the Andersons watching football and shopping. I laughed a lot, which is exactly what I needed.

At Kohl’s, I spotted a necklace with the pink crystal cancer ribbon on it and told myself not to buy it. No need for that now. Don’t even know what this is yet.

Day Eleven - Monday

Biopsy day! I spent the morning cleaning the kitchen and such. Kat came out to pick me up. We had a fast lunch and headed back into town. I popped a Xanax in the parking lot. As soon as I walked into the building my blood pressure went through the roof, my face was all red and the nurse was surprised at how high it was. After talking to me for a long time about exactly what they were going to be doing, my blood pressure dropped and my Xanax kicked in. I was in a happy place.

First procedure, I felt like a 1955 Buick that was lifted up so they could work on it. My left boob was sticking through a hole in the table and I had to lie still while they probed and poked and stuck needles in me. It wasn’t much fun, but way better than the other biopsies I had endured.

After this one, I was whisked away to another room for the next one. Much easier, much less time.

The radiologist who performed both biopsies was great; caring, concerned, calm. She told me she wouldn’t have the results until Thursday and I should call my doctor then.

I was sent home with an ice pack on my breast and instructions not to do anything tonight and most of tomorrow. Kind of hard to do when you basically live alone. I made some tomato soup and a really good grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and settled in with my ice pack to spend the evening watching TV.

Ready, Set.......Wait

Day Twelve – Tuesday

I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m really sore this morning, but no bleeding and no bruising. Randy won’t be home until Saturday so we can go to the Gaslight with Amy. I wish he was here.

I can’t lift anything until tomorrow, so I can’t do laundry. The afghan is heavy, but I may work on it this afternoon, just to have something to do. Maybe I’ll finish up the necklace I started and fix the one for Mom. No heavy lifting there.

I’ll find something to do today.

Day Thirteen – Wednesday

Nothing unusual. My breasts are starting to bruise, but the pain has subsided. It’s shower day! You just never know how much you miss taking a shower until you can’t. It felt so good to be clean all over!

Day Fourteen – Thursday

I waited as long as I could before I called the doctor’s office. When I got no response from them, I call the radiologist.

The report wasn’t back yet. They didn’t expect them until Friday or Monday. So, why do they tell everyone 3-4 days when it actually takes 5-7 days? Optimism?

Day Fifteen – Friday

Randy is home. We’re watching TV and doing house chores when the phone rings. My doctor, who is sweet, doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Just tell me already.

It’s cancer. I want to throw the phone against the wall, I want to go on a path of destruction that can’t be cleaned up. But I just cry in Randy’s arms. I can’t stop crying. I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. All I can do is cry.

About an hour later, I realize that the doctor was not specific enough for me. I called the radiologist who explained more of the report and some of it made me feel a little better, I guess. The lump is .5 cm and contains a high grade cancer. That means there are more cancer cells than non-cancer cells in the lump. But the calcifications are normal. She says she wants the lab to go deeper into the calcifications just to make sure.

Day Sixteen – Saturday

We have 4 tickets to the Gaslight Theater. I call my sister-in-law, Darla, at the last minute to ask if she would like to go with us. She agrees.

I decide that this is the day I will tell my daughter – face to face. I hold her and say “Don’t let go. It’s bad news.” And as I hold my baby girl, I tell her about the cancer. But I also tell her that it will be alright. And she says the most amazing thing “You are the strongest woman I know. If anyone can handle this, you can.” We dry each others tears and go inside to watch the Christmas farce. And we laugh. Laughter is good for the soul.

Day Seventeen – Sunday

I call my son in Nebraska. I wish I could be there to hold him, but he says that he knows everything will be alright and that he loves me. I get a text message from my granddaughter later in the evening that says "I luv u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". Who says text messages aren't good for the soul?

Day Eighteen – Monday

I call the doctor that my doctor referred me to and find out she doesn’t take my insurance. Peachy. So, I call my doctor’s office again and they give me the name of another doctor who also happens to be the doctor of a friend’s friend who she loved. I called his office and I was simply blown away by the kindness of the receptionist. We make an appointment for the following Monday.

Ready, set, wait. Cancer is a lot of that. People think, you find the lump, you get treatment.  My first cancer was confirmed on October 27 and I didn’t start chemo until December 11. There are tests and scheduling problems and biopsies to wait for. It has to be staged and options need to be discussed. At a time when your head is just one big blur, your doctor will ask you what option you would prefer. What are they thinking? But you have to make that decision, with the help of your doctor.

Tomorrow Will Change Everything

Day Twenty – Christmas

With a big, ugly cloud hanging over the house, we celebrated with our daughter and had a wonderful meal together, visited with neighbors, and watched “A Christmas Story”. Cancer would not ruin this day.

I spoke with my dad and my baby brother the day I got the biopsy results. My middle brother called today and we talked for a long time. He asked all the right questions and gave me all the comfort I needed and it felt so good.

Cancer can either tear a family apart or mend it. I have so many people behind me, here on earth and my angels who have passed on before me. I certainly don’t feel invincible, but I do feel cherished.

Day Twenty-one or Twenty-two – Thursday and Friday

I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but our marriage is tense. This has made it even more tense. The same man who went with me to every appointment, CT scan, and chemo treatment has not even been in town for anything so far. I wonder if he is trying to hide from this because he is so scared, or if he is just tired of all of it. I honestly can’t blame him. I guess I included this little piece of personal information to let you know that not everything will go smoothly – the treatments may go horribly wrong, or the diagnosis may not be as promising as you hoped, or your spouse may decide that it’s just too much.

What I have to decide now is what’s best for me. Not him, not my friends, or my kids, but me. It’s my time to be totally selfish. If I am going to make it through this, I have to be the strongest I can be and I can’t have anyone around me who isn’t willing to give me 100% of their emotional self. No self doubts, no criticisms, no threats, no promises that can’t be kept. I need honesty, support, and love without conditions.

My GYN calls me to offer support and tell me he would have referred me to the doctor I am seeing on Monday. The call is uplifting.

Day Twenty-three – Saturday

I drove to Phoenix to pick up my husband and had a little talk with myself on the way up. I said in my mind over and over again what I would say to him and I felt good about the conversation. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but I was sure what I was going to say.

Funny how nothing ever goes the way you rehearsed. Sometimes it goes even better.

Our conversation didn’t turn into a fight, like I pictured it in my head, but a release. I released all the feelings of hurt and fear. He released all the scenarios he had been thinking about, but not sharing. We both felt better and I knew he was, once again, totally in my corner.

Day Twenty-four – Sunday

Football day! We watched and ate and laughed and snuggled just like normal people do. Every once in a while the 500 pound elephant would rear its ugly head, but we would just glare at it and it would slowly leave the room. 

Today was not the day for talking or thinking. Today was the day for enjoyment of food and our favorite sport. One of our teams won and one lost. One is going to playoffs and one is going home. Well, you just can’t have everything.

I feel fine, physically. The bruises from my biopsy have healed. I have no pain anywhere, except the normal “I’m an old lady and I creak” pain. That doesn’t go away – ever. But if I didn’t know that I had Cancer growing in my breast, I wouldn’t know it. I feel perfectly normal and as healthy as I have felt for about 2 years. The same things blast around in my head: I need to lose weight. I need to exercise more. I need to go to the dentist. I need to find a job so I can go to the dentist. On Tuesday, I need to pay the bills. Normal stuff.

But I do know about the Cancer and it creeps into my thoughts constantly. Tomorrow’s appointment will tell us a lot – probably a lot we don’t want to hear. I have to think that it will be the next step towards getting better, but I’ve been here before, and before you get better – there’s a lot of getting worse. I’m not looking forward to that.

Tomorrow will change everything.