"The Biopsy"

I guarantee you that there are dates that you never forget, and the day that you are diagnosed with cancer is one of those. I was officially diagnosed on my daddy's birthday, October 7, 2010.

I found a lump in my left breast on September 28, 2010. It was in a very odd place and felt very different than, say, a cyst or fibrocystic tumor.

I just had a mammogram in July with an "All clear," so finding the lump was just a fluke thing. I was outside, and it was a little chilly, so I had my arms crossed to keep myself warm; that was when I felt the lump very close to the nipple area. First, I thought, Nah, it's nothing. I just had a mammogram. All still while I was outside, I was sort of fondling my breast in a sneaky sort of way so that the neighbors wouldn't notice! But no, this just didn't feel right.

I was living at home with my parents at the time. (I'm a forty-nine-year-old woman, was forty-five then, and yes, I am living with my parents!) I stepped inside and, oddly enough, asked my mother to feel the lump.

We lost my aunt to breast cancer years ago (my mother's oldest sister, Aunt Ruby), and she made us feel her lump. I know; weird, huh?

Actually, it probably saved my life. Knowing the difference between a cyst and a cancer lump is extremely helpful.

Having this knowledge, my mother looked at me with this semiworried look and said, "Hmmm, that really doesn't feel right, does it?" I told her no. We both decided we'd wait until the next day before we got too riled up about it.

Well, the next day came, and the lump was still there. So it was decided that I would call my doctor on Monday.

Monday came, and the call was made. There was little time wasted. I got in to see her rather quickly and got a mammogram and a sonogram of the breast within a day or so. The radiologist was concerned. They wanted me to see my doctor and have a biopsy scheduled.

Now this part is where I should probably not go into much detail, but I feel you should know what this entails. I had no idea what they were going to do. I was just told to show up for the procedure, that it usually is "not a big deal, and you can normally go back to work the same day."

Keep in mind! There are numerous ways to do biopsies; this is just one way. I have had other biopsies done differently. Please ask about your procedure, what it entails, and what you should be prepared for.

I showed up and was promptly escorted back to the room where the procedure would be done. The table was set up and looked comfy except there was a hole in the table that was, ummm, just about the size of where a boob might fit! I was thinking, That looks interesting. The nurse said, "Have you had one of these done before [like an oil change or something]?" I said, "No." She then started to explain rather quickly what they would be doing.

I was still looking at the hole in the table. It was interesting. I was thinking, Where do they get these tables? What if it was my other boob? Is there a hole on the other side too? So I probably missed out on all the information she was giving me so quickly.

Although I have nothing but respect and gratitude for the medical system, I think they become a little numb to these procedures. They forget that we don't have any idea what they are doing!

She placed me on the table, laying me on my stomach, and my left breast fell in the hole. So if you were to come into the room, you would see my booty in the air and my booby facing the floor! Now we waited for the doctor. He explained that he would numb the area where the "suspicious" lump is located; they can use the mammogram and x-ray machine to help them pinpoint exact locations. I'm OK with needles. I have had many surgeries, but if you have a needle phobia, beware.

At this point, I was face-to-face with the nurse, and the doctor was off to my side. I could also see what looked like the part one pulls out of a vacuum that collects dirt; it was hooked up to something that was hooked up to something that was all a part of this process.

They began. He gave me the shot. Ouchie. If you are sensitive to shots, I'm not going to lie to you; it stings. I mean you are getting a shot in your breast. But that beats what you might feel if you don't get it! As what they do next is make a little incision in which to insert a tiny tube that has a snipper on the end of it to snatch a piece of the tumor for pathology to do their thing with.

I was watching the nurse's face; she seemed to be frowning more than smiling. (I was not taking great comfort in this.) She was shaking her head a lot. She was using quite a bit of gauze. He was asking her, "Did ya get it?" She just kept shaking her head and saying, "I can't see. There is a lot of blood." I was looking at the vacuum cleaner, and I could see blood in it, but I figured, Hey, must be what it's for. Better than it bleeding on the floor, right?

They stopped several times to collect some samples on the gauze and take them into another room to get a "special x-ray" to see if they got the samples they needed.

Meanwhile, I was still laying butt up and boob down, watching the blood go through the vacuum cleaner.

They finally said they had what they needed. Then the doctor informed me that he thought he might have "nicked a blood vessel" because I was bleeding quite a bit. OK. So he was going back to the hospital now, and he was going to let the nurse stop the bleeding. What? OK. I mean, what do I know? She could do it, right?

She began by holding pressure on my already-torn-up boob that felt "nice"—not! Then she had me lift up a little bit. That was when I saw, holy cow, blood dripping like crazy. I was thinking, This doesn't seem like a good scenario! She then had me flip over onto my back. Made sense; should have stopped the blood flow—for now. She still kept pressure on it. It took some time, but she got it to slow down, then she put a butterfly stitch on it.

I asked her about the vacuum cleaner. "How much blood do you guys usually get out of one of these procedures?" She informed me, "Maybe a few drops to just barely enough to cover the bottom." Well, I had been watching the crazy thing fill up! She said, "You lost quite a bit of blood."

I told her I had planned to go back to work because I was told that this was no big deal. In and out. Whatever! Please listen to me! I am here to tell you that even if you don't have any difficulties, I would not recommend doing anything on this day. It is a surgical procedure. Even if you don't have this particular procedure, I have had others, and unless you are going to be fired, just go home. It really isn't worth it. Mentally and physically, this is a procedure that takes a lot out of you and can be unpredictable.

She firmly instructed me to wait in the facility for a while and to let her know if it soaked through the gauze, which it did. She changed it, and then we waited a while longer, and everything seemed to be OK. I was not allowed to go back to work. She was afraid any movement of that arm would start it bleeding again. She wanted me to go home and promptly get into bed and stay there and put ice packs on it.

I did exactly that. My mom was there to help me, so we just kept changing the ice packs on a regular basis. Later that evening—of course, when everyone in the house was gone except my mother and my youngest nephew, who was ten at the time—I felt something really cold around my breast. I thought maybe the ice pack was leaking or something. We were using those gel packs, so I wasn't sure what was going on. I gently lifted the ice pack to find that I was completely soaked in blood.

I called for my mother. I said, "I think we might have a little problem here." Then I showed her. In her words, "Crap!" Of course, everyone was gone! My son and my older nephew, people who could drive, were just there and had just left, as well as my father. My mother needed to stay with my nephew and she doesn't drive well at night, it was around 7:00 pm by now. I told her just to get me some towels and to call Dad. She did both. I was soaking through the towels fast. My dad got there rather quickly. I knew I needed to get to the ER, but my doctors were in the town next to us—approximately thirty minutes away where the procedure was done, which would have been ideal—or, we thought we could just go the ER in our town. I was debating on which one would be the best option. When I soaked through the second bath towel in about ten minutes' time, I knew we had to get to the closest one and go there now. I told Mom to give me two more towels, and off Dad and I went.

We got to the ER, and I walked in all covered in blood, but I was feeling quite fine. They were totally freaked out! "What happened to you?" one asked. I truly looked like a stab-wound victim! Someone whipped a wheelchair underneath me. I said, "Well, I am fairly certain I can walk. It just looks bad." The nurse said, "Nope! Not with that much blood! You gotta sit!" So they wheeled me back to get me going and into a room rather quickly. From there, things happened fast. I had lost a large amount of blood. My bra was full in both cups. My shirt and pants were soaked. I didn't realize how much I had lost. We just had to throw away my clothes. They then tried to concentrate on stopping the bleeding by pushing very hard on my boob! This made me feel very sick! I was feeling quite fine until they started that business! It hurt! I can usually take pain, and it was not too awful or bad, but I just think that I had lost so much blood that the combination wasn't so good. I started to hyperventilate. I told them I was going to pass out! They said, "It's OK. You are lying on the table. If you pass out, it's OK!" I didn't want to pass out. I would fight it until the end. I was feeling like I was going to throw up and pass out all at the same time, and then I really started hyperventilating! The doctor was trying to stop the bleeding; she was going to have to suture up the opening as she saw the blood vessel had been "nicked."

My dad had left the room because I was moaning and whimpering, and he just couldn't take it. Poor guy. Then, miraculously, another nurse appeared at the head of my bed and told me that I needed to breathe. She counted with me. She breathed with me. It was what I needed. I couldn't have gotten out of that place unless someone got me out of that place. Then she was gone once I was breathing at a normal rate, and they were done with me.

Now I just felt sick and weak. My boob wasn't feeling all that great now either! My dad had to go home to get me new clothes because we threw away everything. It was a long night. We were there for quite a while. Ultimately, I had a hematoma from the suture, which just means that the blood was still pooling up in there but would eventually subside. It was of concern; it had to be watched very carefully, and now that I had lost so much blood, that was of concern as well.

This was on a Monday. I would see my doctor the next day; she instructed that I could not go back to work. I was so weak. My hemoglobin levels were way down. She would see me on that Thursday anyway to discuss the biopsy and see how I was feeling.

That Thursday would be October 7, 2010. I already knew that it was cancer. They have to have proof however! My mom went back with me. My doctor first checked the hematoma. She was concerned about it and my hemoglobin count. I could tell by the way she was acting that she didn't want to tell me the results of the biopsy. She put that off until the very last.

She said, "Well, we do have the biopsy results, and it doesn't look very good, I'm afraid."

I then said, "It is cancer, huh?"

She said, "Yes."

Then she apologized, and I believe she had a few tears in her eyes; my mother had tears for sure.

I said, "Listen, no need to be upset. I knew it was even without all these tests. I could have told you it was. So what now? What do we do? What is our next step?"

She looked at me and said, "Wow, you are taking this very calmly. Are you OK?"

I said, "Yes. I just already knew it was. Now it's time to figure out what to do about it."

Now I can't say how other people react to this news. Everyone is different. Some are angry, scared, frustrated, "Why me?" lost, nervous, and so many more emotions. There is no right or wrong way to feel. Just feel it.

Finding out you have cancer requires you to go into a whole different realm. Your body knows it; your mind knows it. It is a battle for your survival. If you have to deal with it by calling your friends and crying, well do it! If you need to be alone, then be alone. If you need to scream, then scream! My way of dealing with it was treating it like all the other illnesses that I have had—just taking care of what needed to be taken care of.

I will tell you that the more information you can get the better off you will be. Ask questions. Take another person with you at every appointment. (Sometimes what you think you hear may not be what you heard. Two heads are better than one!) Take notes! Always have a notebook with you to write down information. Ask questions, ask questions, and ask questions. Remember! These guys do this same job every day, and they forget that you may not know the same things that they do. So ask questions. No question is a dumb one! It is your health!

Oh yeah! By the way, at this point, it occurs to me that it is a very wise idea that you make a list of all the medications that you take. Make a list on your computer, print it out, and keep it with you always by putting it in your phone or somewhere that you have access to it because you will be asked this information frequently.

Also, you will be asked what prior surgeries you have had, if any. All of this is great to have already put together for all your doctor appointments because trust me, they will ask!

They will also want to know what you are allergic to. Trust me, they will ask you over and over. It makes life much easier for you and them if you have the list.

Make sure to write down the name of the medication and the dosage as well as how often you take it.

Finally, I know that my story about the biopsy was incredibly long and practically everything that could have gone wrong did! That doesn't mean that this is going to happen to you. Your experience may be much less complicated. I just seem to be the lucky one in procedures that can have everything go wrong. I just wanted you to know the worst-case scenario, I guess, and maybe this isn't even the worst! Just focus on the facts that I started out with: how the procedure is done.

Good luck!

"My Cancer Details"

I want to give you my specific information—but keep in mind that just because my cancer was a certain size or type and maybe yours isn't the same as mine—it's OK. Just use this as a reference. Again, I will emphasize that this is my information, but the end result is it is cancer. No matter how you want to look at it, it is what it is.

You can compare yours to mine and see how things look for your outcome compared to mine; it may or may not be comforting. I just want you to have the information.

If you haven't noticed by now, I just tell you how it is straight up. I don't like to sugarcoat anything. I prefer that for myself. I'm sorry if it seems a little too uncaring. I don't mean it to be. Quite the opposite. I care very much. I am with you all the way! You are not alone! Know that you can make it! What is in store for you will not be the funnest time in your life, but trust me, someday this will not be the most prominent thing.

My treatment choice was a mastectomy of the left breast. If you do not know what a mastectomy entails, let me enlighten you. I knew that my aunt had her whole breast removed and didn't choose to replace hers. I was familiar with that. Meaning, she was just flat chested on that one side, no nipple or anything. Just flat.

When a mastectomy is performed, they remove all the breast tissue and anything that is estrogen related. So guess what, your nipple has a lot to do with estrogen. Typically speaking, they make an incision, and they remove the breast tissue from inside, then they remove the nipple. They don't want anything that can have estrogen produced remaining as this is what can cause the cancer.

In my case, the skin underneath was tested and was not likely to survive the reconstruction process. Since I was already having the TRAM procedure, which I will explain in a moment, they just took a piece of skin from my stomach and transferred it to my breast.