Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Chicken Littles or "The Art of Being Cautious"

Last Monday's visit offered up a bit of a surprise.  After my repeat mammogram (a rescan due to questions that arose in November in my healthy breast), my new oncologist (who seemed to have no idea why I was there or seeing her), told me that I needed a biopsy.  That there were "calcifications" that we needed to investigate.

Dang it!

Apparently before you have cancer, you have calcifications, so finding them and identifying them means a really good chance of finding cancer at its earliest stage.  So I was reappointed with imaging in a week.

Yesterday was my appointment for a stereotactic biopsy.  Yeah.  Google that.  The pictures alone are worth the price of admission.  But if you're one of those squeamish types (and what are you doing HERE????), I'll just describe it:  It's a table with a hole in it .. that you get on via a LADDER (because it goes up in the air), and your boobie goes thru the hole (no kidding) .. and below the table is the radiologist and her team (yes .. TEAM) who adjust your boobie and basically do low-grade mammogram imaging.  I say "low-grade" because the compression is very slight compared to regular mammograms.  

Found this image online and it wasn't
too graphic, so I've included it. 


The idea is that they image you, find the suspicious spot, then make an incision and shoot the core biopsy needle into the spot to withdraw tissue for examination.   I was warned about pain even though they use a local, lots of pressure and potential bleeding.  When the procedure is complete, they bind you up with an ice pack and order you to take it easy for 24 hours.  

Well, we didn't get much past putting the boobie in the table hole. Right off the bat, the radiologist determined that what they were looking at was skin surface level -- and likely scar tissue. 

Just to be on the safe side, they lowered the table, let me climb down and we went to another room for a 3D mammogram (didn't know there was such a thing!)  That image confirmed that the area of calcification was indeed scarring from my reduction 3 years ago.

Dodged a(nother) bullet.  This is my third biopsy in two years and every time it unnerves me.

Doctor says I'm good for a year with regard to imaging.  She apologized for having me drive 6 hours (round trip) but I told her I was happy to if it involved an "all clear". 

I'm grateful they are taking such good care of me.  And I'm grateful for the technology that allows them to see the tiniest of irregularities.  But mostly, I am grateful that - for now, at least - I can continue to say I am cancer free.


Thursday, June 4, 2015

Day 1691 .. and counting

It's been a while since I posted here - over a year, to be exact.  There isn't a whole lot to tell but June 1st of this year was four years since my last chemo and that, to me, is a date to remember.  Probably more than any other date (discovery, surgeries, radiation graduation), finishing chemo was a really big deal.  

Having to do it again is a large and robust fear now.   Going in the first time, you're scared but you're clueless as to what to expect.  Other's descriptions are either purposefully vague or so horrific that you're sure THOSE THINGS won't happen to you.  It's not an experience I care to repeat ... 

My last checkup was in November.  And there were some areas of concern in my healthy breast, so on Monday, we're repeating the mammogram and ultrasound, just to be sure.  I also have a(nother) new oncologist.  My beloved Dr. M., moved on to a research position in Chicago in 2013.  And now, apparently my replacement doctor has also been replaced.  I'm not worried.  All the doctors at M. D. Anderson are plenty bright for me .. but I do wonder why I'm being passed around like yesterday's tuna sandwich.  I'm hoping because my cancer is on the "back burner" and there are far bigger fires that need putting out, they're just shifting those of us with less immediate issues to doctors who have a schedule to deal with us cancer "graduates".  

I'm still on Tamoxifen, though if it were only up to me, I'd have flushed them long ago and danced to celebrate.  I have another year and a half to go but I am not happy about it.  I still have significant joint pain, neuropathy that is getting worse, I'm fat as a pig and there are other cosmetic issues like brittle hair and fragile nails.  But, as long as I remain cancer free, I suppose it's worth it. 

I only hope that once I'm done, I feel significantly better.  Even now, four years after chemo, there are good days and there are bad days. 

My lymphedema is mild, so that's a good thing.  And on the good days, my stamina is high enough that I almost feel like I did before cancer changed things. 

All in all, I feel I have a lot to be grateful for and I try to express that everyday. So, we'll see on Monday if all is still well.   I'll bet you a fresh tuna sandwich that it is ..