Back in September 2011 I wrote:
My good friend, DancingInTheRain,
is a career woman, a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend to many, a
writer, and a dancer. This is her story:
It was actually only the beginning of her story and we were left wondering what the impending test results were going be. Here's what happened next:
Take it step by step I was cleverly advised by other ladies
who lumpect (LWL). And so on to the next step.
Radiotherapy. Not that the
previous steps were as straightforward as they sounded at the end of my last
post. ‘lumpected and then relumpected’ is what I wrote. Well it
would have sraightforward if they hadn’t actually lost what they were looking
for.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first lumpectomy
was actually 2 operations in one. They
start by injecting your boob with turquoise dye. This cleverly works its way
into the underarm lymph nodes and stains blue one or two of those very lymph
nodes which would have become cancerous if the cancer would already have spread. They whip them out, test them on the spot for
cancer and if all is good (remember, ‘negative’ in the vernacular) they sew you
back up again. If they think the lymph
nodes are affected then they remove a whole bunch of them and start worrying
about the rest of your body. Fortunately the lymph nodes were clear.
The second part of the operation is the removal of the lump
itself. After undergoing a weird and
agonizing piercing procedure you enter the operating theatre with one, two or
three wires sticking hedgehog like out of the affected breast. The idea being that the surgeon digs inside
and cuts out the diseased part which should be located between the wires. In my
case, I think he was put off by the turquoise nipple because according to the
pathological report of the removed specimen, there was still a bit left
in. All the invasive part had been removed
but…. a bit of the high grade stuff was still there. Tip: Good idea to remove all the ‘hg’
because it has a tendency to metamorphose into ‘invasive’ given time.
Well they had indeed warned me of a 50% chance that a re-lumpectomy
might be on the cards. What they hadn’t
warned me was that although the pathology lab would diagnose any remaining cancerous
cells after the first op, they might also, by mistake, grossly mess up the
specimen. Meaning that it simply wasn’t
clear whether the bit of lump that was left was at the top, bottom or one of
the sides of the residual hole.
The surgeon was somewhat at a loss. Scalpel very much at the ready but not sure
where to aim and not keen to perform a needless and totally unexpected
mastectomy (full breast removal) in order to catch a few roving cells. Patient (me)
certainly not keen to have a mastectomy just because the lab had made a mistake
and ‘it might be a good idea to be on the safe side’. Now was the time to call in reinforcements
and the Heads of the Breast Oncological Department and the Breast Radiation
Unit officially joined the team hunting for the elusive lump. Tension was rife and the waiting seemed
interminable.
The powers that be decided that an MRI scan should do the
trick. MRIs are uncomfortable and noisy
and extremely claustrophobic – especially if you have recently had operations
on your breast and underarm, not to mention a slipped disc. Results indeed suggested the presence of
unwanted cells and a re-lumpectomy was performed. Mr Surgeon and my dear Hubby
ensured that the resultant specimen was delivered to a more reputable pathology
lab (between them they smuggled the ‘body in the bag’ out of the hospital) and a
long 3 weeks later we were informed that some pre-cancerous cells had been
removed. However, the high grade
cancerous ones which we had been looking for were still lurking in one of the
ducts.
The surgeon insisted there was nothing left to remove - but
the pathology results had shown otherwise.
Fear (on my part) and indecisiveness was in the air. Appointments with various oncologists only
enhanced the tension. The threesome reconvened and agreed that a strong dose of
radiation would kill off anything that might still be around. No need for more
surgery.
And then they changed their minds. A mammography scan would determine the need
for a re-re-lumpectomy. But after 2
painful operations there was simply no way that my sensitive, still-turquoise,
distorted breast would subject itself to being squeezed mercilessly between 2
platters in order for the scan to take place.
The surgeon agreed with me and mayhem ensued – dissension in the ranks
at the weekly departmental committee meeting.
Special permission was eventually given for 7 weeks of daily
radiotherapy (with weekends off for good behavior). With 250 daily patients, and the same number
of personalized radiation treatments, it takes a while for the doctors,
physicists and technicians to prepare each individual technical program which
includes simulation sessions and tattoos.
One missed angle and the radiation hits your heart or lung - an
unpleasant, long-lasting side-effect.
But the waiting was difficult. It
had been 5 months since the original diagnosis and I was becoming more and more
scared that the detected, yet still unremoved ‘hg’ might that very minute be
metamorphosing and invading.
Now more than 5 weeks into treatment, although I am
suffering the expected side effects of local soreness (imagine sunburn in a
very sensitive place – ouch!) and extreme fatigue, the hospital team of
doctors, administrators and radiologists are simply fantastic – not to mention
friends and family who undertake the daily 1 hour+ journey to ferry me to the
hospital – since the original slipped disc/degeneration of the old backbone is preventing
me from driving myself.
Step by step is the mantra and, talking of steps, it is
these same friends and family who have been there for me every step of the way.
I have an appointment next week with the oncologist. I am
expecting only good news and will be dancing all the way there. I’ll let you know……
DancingInTheRain
)
