I haven’t had much to write about in the last three years. But all that has changed now, although I wish I still had nothing to say.
On 22nd October 2015 I had the unfortunate situation of hearing the words I had never hoped to hear. “It’s cancerous”. Yeah. I’ve got frigging breast cancer.
A previous blog of mine touched on my thoughts on breast cancer, and I finally had my genes tested this February. The results were unremarkable. It wasn’t a yes nor a no (that I had the genes). There were two gray areas. And perhaps, I was told by my genetecist, in 10-15 years, they may have more information to give me a definite answer.
Well not to worry! I know I’ve got it now -thanks. What started as my routine mammogram has now turned into my nightmare. I’ve been having 6 monthly mammograms for the last 2 years. And this last one, which I had in October aka Breast Cancer Awareness month, was even 2 months late. Just because I got kinda busy. And get this – because it was Breast cancer awareness month, the centre was having a “half price sale” so it was absolutely heaving with boobs waiting for the luxury of getting smooshed and squashed. I ended up having to leave, I had waited two hours and I just had to go. Things to do! People to see! Places to be! They convinced me that if I came back the next morning, they’d make sure that I was the first person that had the mammogram. Oh, well, alright then. I suppose I can spare the time – I said flippantly.
I knew that there was going to be some drama when the mammographer (is that what you call them?) said that she had to “zoom” in. Oh. That’s never happened before. Alarm bells started going off. Sure enough, the next day my breast doctor Dr H said that he had consulted the radiographer, and hey, let’s just check this micro calcification right here… it wasn’t here 18 months ago so let’s just give it a once over eh? “I’m not too worried” he said. I’ll never trust a doctor who says those words ever again.
I was to have a biopsy – now, the kind the like to do these days, is quick and simple. You sit in a chair, they squash your boob, they inject local anaesthesia (which bloody hurts), and then somehow they put a tube in and pull some of the nasty bits out. I didn’t find out, because – I fainted before they had the chance to put the tube in. Yep. Abort! Abort! So Dr H agreed that I wasn’t a good candidate for this sort of quick biopsy where you’re conscious thoughout the procedure, and instead would go under general anaesthetic where they could have good old fashioned biopsy while I slept. Lovely, I was quite chuffed with that plan.
However I hadn’t quite planned on getting to hear that not only were the cells pre-cancerous, but a 5 mm blob was indeed cancerous. Stage 1. Ductal in situ carcinoma. Fabulous – I’d hoped to never meet you my new friend, but now that you are here, I’m glad that you are tiny.
I’ve decided to resuscitate this blog, if for any other reason to keep me sane in this process. My online diary that I’m willing to share with the world. I’ll end this entry here, I’ve got a helluva lot more to say, but I’m content knowing that this is the start. There will be many more entries. And let’s just put the positivity out there – the entries are going to last decades. Decades my friend. I’ll be here. Just you see.