I was unsure how to tell people outside of my immediate circle about Ye Olde Cancer. Especially with most every day social interactions currently on hold, the chances of bumping into people and being able to tell them seemed slim, as did the likelihood that I could find a graceful way to share the information that didn’t leave me either in tears or talking like a robot and leave them feeling put on the spot.

So I did what all boomers do, I put it on Facebook.

*My kids seem entirely uninterested in the actual definition of boomer and as soon as I point out that I was not in fact born immediately following World War II they start to roll their eyes, so I have embraced the monaker.*

I have always been a bit of an oversharer, and writing is how I process my feelings so with some hesitation I hit “publish” on my last blog post and linked it to my fb account. Holy shit. The comments, calls, texts, cards, flowers, presents left on my doorstep, offers of help, commiseration, offers to share personal experiences and recommendations- they left me without words. I felt so.fucking.overwhelmed in the best way. Surrounded by love and support from people I know to be amazing, it made me feel a twinge of regret for sharing only because there are so many people for whom the shit is hitting the fan right now and I am so lucky to be surrounded by so much love and I hope that everyone else has the same. Thank you all.

I had a bunch of people ask specific questions about diagnosis, timeline, etc. so in the name of oversharing here you go.

Disclaimers:

Please skip the rest of this post if you find medical details boring because you will be bored, and correct.
I am not a medical person so everything below is as I understand it which is probably at best loosely related to fact.
I have been stunned by how personal these decisions feel. Everything here reflects my decisions and thoughts and has nothing to do with what anyone else in the same situation decides. Unless you decide you’re a christian scientist and it’s not cancer but the fear and thought of cancer that you need to cure. Then I might judge a little but I promise I would STILL keep it to myself.

I felt a lump about 3 weeks ago. I have lumpy boobs and a previous biopsy that turned up a finding of lumpy (also called “fibrocystic”) breast tissue so I figured this would be the same. Primary care referred to imaging who did a mammogram and ultrasound followed by a biopsy. Biopsy came back two days later positive for Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (the most common type of breast cancer). It’s a grade 2 (they can’t be positive about the stage until surgery but that is most likely a 2 as well). The cancer is progesterone and estrogen receptor positive (good because it means drugs other than chemo can be used) and HER2 negative, is about 3cm in size and isn’t showing lymph spread on ultrasound.

The plan seems to be surgery first, which will almost definitely be a bilateral mastectomy. I only have cancer on the right side so, unless it turns out that I have the BRCA gene, I can choose lumpectomy, mastectomy or bilateral mastectomy. Lumpectomy is always followed by radiation which can cause of scar tissue which looks not so great and can limit mobility. Also there is still breast tissue which means there can be another breast cancer. Mastectomy = bigger surgery, elimination of most future concern of breast cancer, radiation almost certainly not needed. Bilateral mastectomy = no breast tissue left on either side and breasts that match after everything is over.

I was surprised to learn that the mastectomy itself is not a huge procedure. It is technically outpatient, and recovery is intense but most people are back to normal by 6 weeks. Reconstruction, on the other hand, sounds like it kinda kicks your ass. There are different kinds of reconstruction but I am doing the one where they take your stomach and make it into breasts. This is lovely for multiple aesthetic reasons and a bummer as it has the longest recovery - 6-12 weeks. Ouch.

After surgery will probably be some kind of hormone treatment and possibly chemo, but right now my brain is only grasping up to the point where I have surgery.

As I type my 11 year old daughter, who is having the hardest time with all the news, is making my immediate environment into a Guantanamo-type situation. I have her Kindle and her Alexa and, as she knows, they will be returned as soon as the day’s (very small amount of) school work is done. She is standing next to me chanting “can I have my Kindle” and making it impossible to see my screen by flailing her arms in front of my face. This has been going on for 45+ minutes and I’m waiting to hear her start running water and filling up a bucket. If there was ANYTHING I could do to make this easier on her and Hayden I would do it in a fucking heartbeat. The only thing I can do is stay as calm and regulated and loving as possible, try to keep things as routine as I can (hence the schoolwork) and see their insanely annoying behaviors as the only way they know how to cope with everything that is going on right now. I hate it. Jeremy hates it. They hate it. Fuckity fuck fuck.