When you’re diagnosed with breast cancer there are so many emotions involved; everything from denial to fear, to anger, and even celebration. For me, denial came first. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. Even though I had a strong family history and had been labeled high risk, I never really thought it would actually happen to me. I wasn’t a smoker, I ate better and exercised more than those family members who had it before me, and I had my exams as my doctors had recommended for someone at high risk. But when the day came that I was actually diagnosed, I had a hard time believing it. I knew something was going on, but I didn’t really think it was the “Big C”. I had talked to my doctor 6 months before, and she had assured me that I was just feeling the affects of menopause.
But when I looked in the mirror one morning, months after that exam, while I was getting out of the shower, there it was. A dimple that wasn’t there before, and no matter how I moved, or what position I stood in, it didn’t go away. I knew this wasn’t a good thing, I had read up on all the tell-tale signs since I discovered I was high risk, and had learned that many times a dimple is a sign of cancer. Surely this was just from gaining weight, or menopause. But I soon found out that it was indeed what I had feared the most for the past 20 years, breast cancer.
At first I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do, so I dutifully went through the process; following doctor after doctor’s recommendations and orders. I scheduled appointments and surgery, then chemo, then radiation as I had been told to do. During that time, I spent many hours locked in the bathroom, away from my children, sometimes alone sometimes with my husband crying and wondering where I went wrong. What could I have done to prevent this horrible thing from happening? What did I do to cause it? Why did this have to happen to me? To my family? What did this mean to my children? How would I get through it? How would we get through it?
As time went on, I took every phase one day, and sometimes one hour, one minute, at a time. I started to realize that I would survive this, and that I HAD to survive this. I had to do what needed to be done, not just for me, but for my children, my husband, my parents, my sisters, and my friends. I realized that we don’t just live this life for ourselves but we live our lives for those that we love and that love us. We make the choice to go through our experiences with self pity or dignity. I chose dignity, not just for myself but for those that were watching me. I needed for my family and friends, especially my daughter, to know that for me this was not the end, that I would not let this defeat or define me.
As I approached my first year anniversary of being cancer free, I started to think about ways to celebrate. Perhaps a dinner, a small party, maybe just one of my favorite hikes with some of my favorite people. As that month approached, I became excited, even giddy about the fact that I had made it through one of the most challenging years of my life. As luck would have it though, the celebration would have to wait. I was diagnosed almost to the day with a new cancer on the other side. This time, it wasn’t so devastating. It was a bit unbelievable, but I was determined once again to fight and show my family how this didn’t have to be a game changer. I had a good oncologist that was proactive and insisted on a mammogram, even after several other scans that were specifically meant to detect cancer. He was right to do so, because the mammogram showed calcifications that were typical when cancer is present. The ultrasound and biopsies that followed confirmed it, I had a new tumor and it was different than the cancer I had before. This was good and bad news, the good news being that it hadn’t traveled, the bad news being that I needed surgery again and possibly treatment, which I swore to my husband that I would never do again. Chemo was not my cup of tea!
Because we caught it much earlier this time the tumor was much smaller and fortunately was not against my chest wall like one of the previous tumors. This was great news in the fact that surgery would be the only “cure” this time. I am now approaching my first anniversary again, this time I’m a little more cautious but still very hopeful that I will be able to celebrate.
For the time being I have decided against reconstruction, I don’t see the need to go through the risk of surgery, or the pain of stretching my healing skin and muscles. I’m not sure I will ever opt for the surgery, putting something foreign into my body after what I’ve gone through just doesn’t sound appealing. I have come to terms with my new body and even embrace it now. It has taken a while but I realize, ’twas but a flesh wound, and I was not and am not defined by my breasts. I am still the same person I was before.
I have learned many things in this journey. First, make sure you are happy with your doctors, that you trust them and feel comfortable with their recommendations. I changed primary care physicians because the first one dismissed my concerns so easily. If I had caught the first cancer 6 months earlier I may not have needed the chemo and radiation. I also changed oncologists, the first one told me I was done shortly after my radiation treatments were complete, and contradicted himself several times during visits, that made that change an easy one. I sometimes wonder how long it would have taken to find the second cancer if I had stayed with him.
I also found that doing my own research helped considerably. It helped me understand what was happening, and what they were all talking about. It helped me form my questions so I could feel more comfortable with the treatments. The American Cancer Society can be a great resource, they will verify standards of care if you’re wondering if you’re on the right path. They also have annual gatherings in most communities to help you celebrate your fight and honor those that have lost theirs. I also learned that breast cancer is one of the “good” cancers. Meaning there are successful treatments for most breast cancers and if caught early enough, survival rates are very high. I also realized how important it is to listen to yourself, to pay attention to that gut feeling you get and to pay attention to your body. If something doesn’t feel right, talk to a doctor. If you’re not satisfied with that doctor, seek another.
But the most important lessons I’ve learned are that all cancers are not created equal and cancer doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Many people are diagnosed and beat the disease every day. Don’t get me wrong, it is a very serious diagnosis and I met many people over the last couple of years that were not as fortunate as I was, and I have family members that did not survive. Cancer can kill, and will if left alone long enough. But the biggest lesson I learned is that your life is not your own, it belongs to the people you love, and that love you. So make a point to enjoy what you have, and live your life knowing how you impact others!
Kathy Allyn worked for Intel and is now a Valley Realtor and author of MastectomyMadness.com. She is a modified radical that feels life has just begun!