News

Some of you have been waiting for this information and some of you are probably getting blind-sided by it. I'm sorry. I just thought that it would be easier to put it all out there once, than to re-tell the story a million times.

So, the deal is this: yesterday I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

This news has been a long time coming for me, but I guess I haven't really shared it with most of you. I just kept waiting for the all clear, because I was planning to deserve a celebration. But, I didn't get the all clear, and I suppose it is time to share the story. It's terribly long, but here goes.

Last summer, I noticed two lumps in my left breast. I went to my doctor, who thought that everything was probably just fine. I believe that her exact words were: "some women just have lumpy breasts." Right. A month later, I went back. The lumps were causing a bit of discomfort and I didn't buy the diagnosis. They sent me to the breast center at Saint John's hospital where I had both a mammogram and an ultrasound. All results were negative.

Next, I went to see a breast surgeon who also thought that everything was just fine. But, to be sure, she sent me back to Saint John's hospital for a gamma scan. In case you don't know what this is, I will enlighten you. It's kind of like a mammogram, in that you are crushed like a pancake, except that the photos take about five minutes each. Oh, also, you have to have radioactive dye injected into your veins. Really, radioactive. I have a card in my wallet detailing my nuclear medicine exam, on the off chance that I set off the metal detectors at the airport. And, in case you can't picture the severity of this procedure, I will also add that the technician brought the syringe to me in an lead pipe, lest the material that they were about to use to populate my blood stream come into contact with anyone. Very comforting.

After the gamma scan, the technician left the room to develop the photos. She told me that she would be back in a few minutes, at which time she might need to do a few more photos or we would be finished. Instead, she came back with a doctor, who introduced himself as the head of radiology. Super. He told me that the left side (with the lumps) looked fine, but that there was an area of concern on the right. So, guess what then? Another ultrasound and another mammogram. And guess what the results were ... negative.

Great news? Not really. The gamma scan looks at the breast tissue on a cellular level. Since the area of concern was found on the gamma, but not on the other procedures, there was no way to biopsy it. So, I had to wait three months and then come back.

At the end of December, I went back for another smush test, I mean gamma exam. The results were the same. The spot on the right had not grown, which was good, but it hadn't gone away either. So ... more tests. Next, I went in for an MRI. On January 22, I climbed into the horrible tube of claustrophobia known as the MRI machine. If you have never had one, let me tell you: it is loud. REALLY loud. They offered me some headphones, but they also told me that I wouldn't be able to hear the music very well, so I opted for the earplugs.

Oh, also, there was some contrast dye injected near the end of the 30 minute procedure, but no one was in the room with me. So, all of a sudden, while I was not allowed to move, I could feel a foreign substance crawling through the i.v. tube into my arm. It was very surreal, and a bit disturbing.

After that, I got a call from the surgeon. I was expecting the all clear, but no dice. Also, no diagnosis. But, I DID get to go in for another test, which was exactly what I was hoping to hear. I hadn't been in to the hospital for almost two weeks, and I was beginning to miss it. (That was sarcasm, in case you missed it.) So, this Monday, I went back to the breast center for a third ultrasound. Did I mention that I'm only 33? While there, they FINALLY found the lump that I found in July. And we were finally able to do a biopsy.

Phew ... or not. The results of the pathology report show two types of cancer. I have a small area of invasive ductal carcinoma. It is (or WAS, before the biopsies) about the size of a tick tac. I also have ductal carcinoma in-situ. You might think that the invasive is the more concerning of the two; we did. But, the thing is that the invasive kind is easy to see in surgery. It is fairly clear whether or not all of it has been removed. Not so much with the in-situ kind, which is just a cancer that has not yet developed into the invasive category.

So, we are faced with three options:
1. Have a lumpectomy and radiation for six weeks, five times a week
2. Have a single mastectomy and a biopsy on the right breast to find what showed up in the gamma scan.
3. Have a double mastectomy, thereby decreasing the risk of recurrence.

Between the three options, the survival rate is about the same.

Regardless, I will have a sentinel node biopsy and may or may not need an axillary dissection.

Regardless, I may need to have i.v. chemotherapy.

Regardless, I will likely go on some oral chemotherapy which will both halt the spread of the cancer and will put me into menopause for five years. So, no more siblings for Laila and Owen ... at least for half of a decade.

We just don't have all of the information, yet. We go to see a geneticist soon, to determine whether or not I have the mutation that could cause cancer in other parts of my body and that may increase the risk that our children are in danger, too. We go to see a plastic surgeon on Monday.

In short, we have a lot of information to digest, and one HUGE decision to make.

Thank you for all of your support.

With love,
Liz, Scott, Laila and Owen

Do not look forward to what might happen tomorrow;

the same everlasting Father

who cares for you today

will take care of you tomorrow,

and every day.

Either He will shield you from suffering

or He will give you unfailing strength

to bear it.

-St. Francis de Sales