From Sad to Bad

The first full week of October was my district's Fall Break, and I went into it with a heavy heart. Our sweet goldendoodle, Bailey, had recently been diagnosed with thyroid cancer and we were told she had 2-3 weeks to live. From the Monday of the break until Thursday, we could tell she was rapidly deteriorating and we had to make the difficult decision to put her down on October 10. We had put our other goldendoodle, Wally, down three years prior and no one adequately prepares you for losing a pet. 

Jeff and I decided to get out of town and enjoy family time to help get our minds off things. We headed to Bowling Green for the weekend with the boys and had the best time. If you're ever in the area, we highly recommend Chaney's Dairy Barn. The boys had the best time on their playground, Lincoln and I enjoyed the corn maze, and Jeff threw it back to his childhood roots when he saw how the dairy operation works. Their potato soup is also amazing, and none of us complained about their ice cream!

Saturday morning of our weekend getaway arrived and I happened, by chance, to do a breast exam. I had a feeling that something felt different about my boobs, and sure enough I felt a lump. I immediately texted by OB/GYN who is a dear friend, and she said to call on Monday to get worked in. I was unsettled to feel something, but also knew the vast majority of lumps are nothing to worry about. 

I called on Monday to get an appointment, and they weren't going to be able to see me until early November. Enter God, or what I've begun to affectionately refer to as "God winks." I am not a confrontational person, but something in me was urging me to get in earlier. After some more discussion, they were able to get me in that coming Thursday. It happened to work perfectly with my work schedule, too. Another God wink.

Between calling and Thursday, the lump I felt disappeared. Thursday came and there were moments that morning I had to remind myself I had an appointment to go to. Part of me questioned if it was even worth going when what I felt was no longer there. God wink #3 - I kept the appointment and showed up.

Lauren, my OB/GYN, confirmed that what I felt was no longer there. However, she happened to feel around some more and found something else. She was NOT worried, although my concern level initially sky rocketed. What she felt did not feel hard, stuck, or like a rock (all the characteristics we're told to look for.) She said it was likely a fibroadenoma, but still wanted to send me on for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound to confirm it. God wink #4. Her decision saved my life, and I thank God every day we did not take a "wait and see" approach. 

The following Thursday, October 24, I showed up at my local hospital for my imaging. Similar to the week prior, I had to remind myself I had a doctor's appointment. Lauren wasn't worried, therefore I told myself this was nothing to worry about. Jeff offered to go with me, but I was adamant there was no need for that. "I'll just have the imaging done and then go home. You do NOT need to come to this!" 

Right before it was time for me to change into the darling pink gowns you wear for a mammogram, the tech came out and asked for the disc that had my images from previous mammograms. I told her I was told the hospital would take care of getting the images, and therefore did not have it. She said I was given incorrect information, and she didn't think they would be able to do the mammogram that day because the radiologist would not read my images without prior images to compare them to. As mentioned previously, I am not a confrontational person, but for some reason this fired me up. She left the room to go see what they could do. I sat in the waiting room and continued to get more angry. I had arranged for my mom to get the boys from school, and let's remember I was there because my doctor FELT something! She came back in and said she didn't think they were going to be able to do anything, and we were going to need to reschedule for next week. 

So what did I do? I cried. Like a big ol' baby. And just like my lack of confrontation, I am also not a crier. I think my words went something like, "I have arranged childcare, I am not bringing my boys to an appointment like this, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at 42, and I have felt a lump in my breast! I don't care if the radiologist doesn't give me an answer today! Can we just do the mammogram??!" God wink, y'all. She either felt sorry for me or thought I was crazy, because she left the room, came back a few minutes later, and said the radiologist agreed to do it, but he WOULD NOT read the images. She probably repeated that eleven times. I got the point, but didn't care. I was not leaving the hospital without having a mammogram.

We did the mammogram and she sent me back out to the waiting room. My doctor had also ordered an ultrasound of the right breast where she found the lump. A few minutes later the tech came back and said the radiologist wanted to do a second mammogram with smaller paddles. It is important to know nothing about this information raised any concern within me. I just thought, "Wow! We are really covering all our bases here. This is good!" Ignorance is bliss. And I'm counting this as another God wink before my world crumbled.

The second mammogram was completed and I asked if we were going to also do the ultrasound. The tech said we would do an ultrasound if the radiologist thought there was anything "ultrasoundable." Remember how I was told he wasn't going to read any of my images? Most normal people would probably have been concerned right about now...but not me 🤷🏻‍♀️ I don't know what this says about my personality 😂

Back to the waiting room I went. And from stage right entered the ultrasound tech. I felt victory knowing we were going to do the ultrasound because that's.what.the.doctor.ordered. And I'm all about following rules. She did the right side, got up to leave the room and said, "I'm going to discuss the images with the radiologist. He may be in shortly to talk with you." I was completely at peace with this news and not ONCE felt like bad news was coming my way. The tech came back in the room and said, "Well now he wants me to do the left side." And again...no concern from me! I was holding true to the mindset that we were being thorough, people! Leave no stone unturned! 

She did the left side, and the same speech occurred. "I'm going to discuss the images with the radiologist. He will probably come in and talk with you." Little did I know I was minutes away from complete disbelief.

He came in the room. I was still in my pink robe, completely fucking oblivious to what was happening. He said, "Your images look suspicious. We're going to need you to come back so we can biopsy the areas." He also spoke other words, but my brain could only focus on the word "suspicious." I held my hand up and said, "I'm going to need you to tell me what you mean by 'suspicious'." He responded with, "Your images resemble breast cancer, but we won't know anything until we do biopsies." He then informed me there were three tumors; one in my right breast, and two in my left. My body at this point was absolutely shutting down; my head felt light, my arms were numb, my stomach felt like it had been punched, and I had no idea how I was going to physically lift myself up off the table to drive home. He exited the room, and then I absolutely lost it. I just remember sobbing to the ultrasound tech, "Just because there are tumors doesn't mean it's cancer, right?? They could be benign!" She gave me the saddest little smile and said, "You're right. They could be. But yours have spiculated margins, and that's usually not a very good sign." She then gave me directions on how to exit back out to the lobby, and I was left to get dressed. 

The next five minutes are a total blur. I got dressed, and prayed to God I wouldn't run into anyone I knew from the exam room to my car. I kept telling myself to hold it together and not cry until I got to my car. That did not happen. I didn't even make it to the hospital waiting room before I absolutely broke down. I had texted Jeff, my mom, and a good friend to let them know I had not received good news. They were all texting me back, and when I finally got to my car I let the sadness overtake me. I sobbed, like full on ugly cry. In that moment I remember thinking, "I need to call Lauren! I need to tell her what is happening!" and at that moment, she called me. God wink. I don't even think I said hello because I couldn't talk. From when the radiologist left until this moment, so 10 minutes top, he had already called her to let her know his findings. She and I talked for a few minutes, and between complete disbelief and "Is there a chance he is wrong?!" questions, I finally pulled myself together and said, "Ok, on a scale of 1-10, how worried do I need to be right now?" She paused. And slowly said, "A 10." 

You all, in that moment Jesus put his arms around me and told me it was going to be ok. Instead of debilitating fear, I literally stopped crying and said, "Ok, well let's get this show on the road. What are the next steps? Can we do the biopsies tomorrow?" She said she would work on getting them scheduled, but to reach out if I needed anything in the meantime. 

I called Jeff next, and we were both in shock. Mom was at home with the boys, and I asked if he could just take them somewhere for dinner and to play so Mom and I could talk without any interruptions. She was diagnosed at 42, and has been a survivor for 22 years (woohoo!). I just needed her in that moment because she'd been there.

As soon as I pulled in the driveway, Jeff was backing out with the boys. I rolled my window down and the boys immediately noticed the hospital bracelet on my arm. "Mommy, what is that? Why do you have a bracelet? Did you go to the doctor? Did they give you medicine? Are you sick??" Hardest questions I've ever had to answer. I kept reminding myself to stay strong for a minute so they wouldn't see me breaking.

I made it upstairs, and just remember hugging mom, crying, and saying, "What the hell is going on?" As a parent, the hardest questions are the ones you can't answer. 

The following Friday, November 1, I went back for biopsies of all three tumors. On Tuesday, November 5, Lauren came to our home to share the pathology results; bilateral triple negative breast cancer. The tumor in the right breast is 2 cm, and only one of the tumors in the left breast is malignant. It is only 9mm. The other mass was a fibroadenoma. How two masses can literally be millimeters from each other, yet one is cancerous and one is not, completely boggles my mind. Triple negative cancer is aggressive and tends to reoccur. There are no medications I can take afterwards to prevent it from reoccurring since the hormone receptors on the cancers cells are "locked." The three year mark after a complete pathologic response is huge; the vast majority of triple negative patients who make it three years drastically see their reoccurrence risk decrease. 

Thursday, November 14 we went to UK to meet with my surgeon. They did ultrasound imaging of my lymph nodes, in addition to a fine needle aspiration. The lymph nodes on my right side are all healthy. Three lymph nodes tested positive for cancer on the left side. How a 9mm tumor can already be spreading to lymph nodes is beyond me, but I am hopeful its size can be obliterated by chemo.

Thursday, November 21 I met with my oncologist, and we got our chemo plan in place. I will do 4 rounds of adriamycin/cytoxan every other week, followed by 12 rounds of weekly taxol. This puts me to be completed with chemo on April 17, the day after Lincoln's 7th birthday. This summer I will undergo a double mastectomy. And please do not think I am getting a boob job. I have an entire post dedicated to these comments 🙄

Friday, November 22 was the day of my port surgery to make chemotherapy easier. December 6 was my first chemo treatment. I go back on December 20 for my next one. 

There is SO much more I want to say right now, but this is enough for one post. Please know I am not posting about this to put the spotlight on ME. I am sharing all of this in hopes I can possibly help someone else, even if that won't be for awhile. If anything, the last 8 weeks have taught me the importance of community and relying on those who can lift you up. My family is so blessed by the tremendous outpouring of support from friends and strangers alike. Although this Christmas season has a veil of sadness surrounding it at times, it also has an abundance of gratitude and awe for the goodness of humanity. We really are going to be ok ❤️