The Breast Cancer Journey Never Stops - Day 1

Introduction to The Breast Cancer Journey Never Stops 

Hi y'all!

I'm Jen and it's a pleasure to meet everyone virtually.

As I come up to my 10-year Cancer-versary, I want to take a retrospect back to the beginning to share my journey which will include the raw, good, bad, and the ugly.

So, why now?

I've shared some details in the past but have not pulled back the curtain as much as I could have at the time. I've been talking to so many people right now that are going through their own life-changing journey or are caregivers to someone who is going through critical health experiences. The scars and feels are ones you see and a lot of them are the ones you don't.

My fork in the road began over 11 years ago when I went in for the first baseline mammogram. I was unsure of what to expect since it was all new and I'd heard some horrible stories from others including the uncomfortableness of getting your girls squished into pancakes. The exam came and weng without anything newsworthy other than, it is not comfortable, and your breasts are squished, squeezed, and flattened like they never had been before.

It was out of sight, out of mind until I received a letter "recalling" my mammogram which stated I needed to have another one along with an ultrasound. A recall letter? Really? You get those from your automotive dealer, not you medical professional. My panic level began to rise, but after talking with my mom along with a few others, this was pretty normal to have to go back. The letter, not so much, but having deeper mammograms or ultrasounds was if you have dense breasts (AKA larger ones).

I made the appointment to go back in and there wasn't a leve of concern or immediacy from the imaging center, so I went back to again with no preconceived notions or major concerns. That changed a little after getting the second set of images. The radiologist came in and rattle off my patient number without addressing my name or even introducing himself saying he recommended getting a biopsy today, now. How about explain the results or what you saw or approaching me as a person and not a car. This threw up red flags and the ultrasound technician even said that can't happen since they were booked solid for the day. An appointment would need to be made that fits into their schedule. All very cold and impersonal, so I asked for my images before I would leave and, yes, I would wait as long as it took. I was going somewhere I mattered and would get a second opinion.

I was able to make an appointment with Mayo Clinic pretty soon after which set me at ease again. After conferring with others, they said this wasn't out of the norm and they needed additional imaging if you had dense breasts and to be prepared to have this response often moving forward. However, when they schedule an appointment, it wasn't just another ultrasound and a biopsy, I also needed an MRI too.

I did not realize I had claustrophobia until getting that first MRI. I had to lay down on my stomach with my face in this small opening than I was backed up into the machine feet first with the machine grazing my legs and bum. I began to hyperventilate turning into uncontrollable sobs for the next 30 minutes as I lay there battling a full-on anxiety attack. They felt so bad, but there was nothing that could be done once the test started and recommended soothing meds for the next time. All I could think of was "What next time?" "I'm going to need a next time?" 

This was all happening during the December holiday season, so you really don't have time to think outside of the numerous parties, end of the year wrap ups, shopping, decorating, and I was spending time with my fairly new boyfriend of only 7 months. It was our first major gift giving holiday together which is always interesting to navigate together or determine if that was going to be a lasting relationship without all this added stress. You have no idea how many relationships fizzled out right before the holidays since they didn't want to buy a gift or deal with that stress, so when I received the call to schedule a follow up with a doctor to review my results, my worry level went up to 10. I mean, if the results were normal, you'd receive some form letter in the mail and wouldn't need a face-to-face appointment. Let the mind chaos begin. 

The appointment finally arrived the Friday before the holidays. They recommended having someone with you, so I brought my mom. Sitting there in the room waiting was beyond nerve racking. I was also surrounded my people my grandparents age with their caregivers who were also WAY older than me. I remember it was freezing, but I'm not sure it it was the room temperature or my anxiety in overdrive.

The intern came in first to gather all the initial prep info. I cannot remember his name, but he was young, handsome, and very well dressed in an Italian suit. I would've been impressed if I was 20 years younger or not spiraling from all the what if's, how come's, and why me's. The doctor, lead surgeon, and head of the breast cancer center to be exact came in. He was also sharply dressed and super tall with huge hands. He could've come across as intimidating, but there was nothing but warmth and comfort about his mannerisms and approach.

There was some random chit-chat I can not recall. Why the silly chit-chat? There's nothing about that that will ease you into whatever that was approaching. Just get to the point. After the niceties, his voice got soft and deeper as he said the words the words no one on earth wants to hear. "I'm sorry to say, but your results show you have cancer." He said some other kind words and details, but I only saw his lips moving without comprehension since my mind was stuck on "you have cancer, you have cancer, I have cancer, me, I have it." I was going into total shock now. My body was in the room, but my mind was floating around somewhere else completely.

He must be used to this response as he stopped, patted my hand and began again into his explanation. I had stage 3B Triple-Negative Breast Cancer which had already jumped into one or more lymph nodes which was concerning to him. He broke down the diagnosis which was also detailed out in a personalized binder provided for us. I'm providing my understanding of my diagnosis which is based on the medical backing and research I did, but I am not a media professional, so if you're wanting more technical info, I highly recommend doing your own research. Everything I share is my the perspective of a breast cancer thriver and the info as I comprehended it.

• Triple-Negative Breast Cancer - it's not hormone induced but rather when radical cells get together and begin battling each other turning into a cancer cell. This type of Cancer can be related to the BRCA gene (some of you may be more familiar hearing this from Angelina Jolie who tested positive electing to take radical measure to prevent cancer) which can be a heredity gene. I would need to be tested for that marker as it could change the treatment plan.
• My cancer was squishy and about the size of a gum drop which is why myself nor my general doctor felt a lump or anything abnormal during my monthly self exams or annual. It was also deep in the breast close to the chest wall.
• It had already jumped from the breast into the lymph nodes under my arm pit. Their job is to absorb all the ick in your body to protect it from going elsewhere or into other organs, so it did its job, but we needed to stop it from moving anywhere else. 

At this point, I came back into my body and asked if I was going to lose my hair. I was less concerned about if I was going to live or die, how long it would take to get better or anything like that, I was more concerned in the moment about not wanting it to affect my life and the vanity of losing my hair. My hair seemed more important than anything else in that moment of time. That may sound fickle, but I was debating in my head if there was a way I could take care of things without letting anyone else know. I didn't want to be pitied or treated differently. Losing my hair would make that really hard to disguise.

The answer, of course, was yes. To add even more fears, it would likely happen after just the initial chemotherapy treatment which he wanted to start immediately, but that meant in 2 weeks since Christmas and New Year's happen to interfere with things. There was NO time to process, think or do much else.

Next, he laid out the proposed treatment plan.

• 32 rounds of chemotherapy
• I was "healthy" enough (Say what? If I was healthy, why was I needing all these poisons and drugs pumped into my body to heal something that wasn't even making me feel sick like strep throat.) to double up treatments so chemo would only be roughly 5 months long instead of 10.
• Sign me up! The quicker the better. First round would be weekly for 12 straight weeks than every other week after than for 4 more double treatments.
• I would also need a port since the types of chemos were too strong for your veins to handle. More to follow on that after I understood it.
• Surgery
• We tentatively planned for month 6 but that would be based on how well my body handled the chemo and staying healthy enough (this again?) and accepted the drugs to breakdown the tumors.
• 40 rounds of radiation
• This would start in month 8 dependent on surgery, how healthy I stay, and a few other things, so we didn't go into details until much later.

He was going to oversee all my treatments and surgeries but would assign an Oncologist to manage the chemotherapy and another Radiation Oncologist to manage radiation.

I was given my personalized binder along with a long list of appointments that needed to be scheduled before I could do my first chemo which be booked on January 2nd. Happy New Year to me!

He said some more nice and supportive things that I have no idea what they were since I was in a complete fog as we walked out trying not to look totally devastated, tear streaked, and broken as wove my way through the packed waiting room all the way out to the car which now felt twice as long as when we arrived. The ride home also felt like a hamster wheel.

My appointment was first thing in the morning, so it's only mid-morning at this point. I'll unpack more from their day oneof this never-ending day in my next blog.

As a reminder, its Friday before the holidays and only mid-morning. I originally had full intentions to go into work after my appointment, but that train derailed after the "C" word was uttered. I didn't have it in me to talk to anyone, so I texted my manager that I needed the rest of the day to deal with everything I just heard. I promised to share more over the weekend as things became more clear and I had absorbed some of this info and, frankly, I did not want him to be the first person I told.

On that drive, my dad called to ask how it went. I could not find a voice to say that evil work, so I let it to my mom to say the words. The call was brief since we were driving and he was on speaker in the car. I could tell he was shuck and he'd be home early. My newish boyfriend of 7 months was next to call since I hadn't checked in yet. He was the first person I said the words to as my voice was cracking and barely above a whisper. I was still contemplating telling anyone else, but at that exact moment, I needed him and didn't want anything between us. He said he'd cancel his holiday boy's dinner to come over after work which is exactly what I needed and couldn't wait to get swallowed into his arms.

For some random reason, what now?, but my mom wanted to stop at the grocery store on the way home which was one of the last places I wanted to be, but didn't have the desire to disappoint her. As we were picking though the different pork loins for Christmas dinner, an older man tried to take one out of our cart. I totally LOST it and pushed his hand away telling him how rude that was through a steam of tears. I said he should be ashamed and called me a few choice words, I would've said something back but was too raw to even battle. Luckily he walked away grumbling under his breath. Why of all things did I remember that? This had nothing personal or to do with anything else, but I see it clear as day.

I spent the rest of the day snuggling with the family pup between sobbing myself to sleep than crying myself awake again. My dad came home, poked his head into the bedroom, and said we'd get through this as I squeeze the poor dog. He's not a very affectionate person so I didn't expect hugs or anything else, but I could tell he was totally out of his element and rocked.

Just as I was settling down from the uncontrollable tears, my boyfriend arrived, and I completely broke down again into another sloppy mess. I had not idea one person could cry so much. All I wanted was him and my dog. We just laid there for a couple of hours without saying anything. Bless his heart of being so patient, loving and selfless as I'm sure he was going through his own emotions and thoughts.

After a few hours, my mom and DJ, that's his name by the way, convinced me I needed to get something to eat, but nothing sounded good. I knew DJ loved hot wings, so I Buffalo Wild Wings and nibbled on some mini corn dogs even though I really didn't want them. I think it was operation distraction since he suggested a movie which I could care less about. I said anything as long as it wasn't sad, so he convinced me to go to "American Sniper" which turns out was totally sad and triggered all the tears all over again.

Were these tears ever going to stop???

I'll pause here as I get a tissue and let you know when they or if they stopped in my next blog.

With love from your favorite Thriver! XoXo - Jen