That was an ordinary moment in an ordinary day, but it turned out to be anything but. As I was getting ready for bed, my hand brushed over the top of my right breast and landed on a rather large lump. Since I have multiple sclerosis (MS) and migraines, I made it my mission to pay attention to my body, and that lump hadn’t been there for long. I quickly checked both breasts and found nothing else concerning, probably a harmless cyst or blocked duct or something. After all, I had only 13 months prior to my mammography, and my family had no history of breast cancer, so cancerous breast tumors don’t just appear like that, do they?
For some reason, the frequent relapses of MS that had tormented me for years had virtually stopped in recent months. Just a few weeks prior, I had celebrated my 51st birthday and was experiencing an unheard-of period of excellent health.
Breast cancer, then? Not likely.
I ignore it because I’m not the kind to freak out over a random lump. So far out that by morning, I had completely forgotten about it. That is, until I was taking a shower and found the sinister object again.
If it had been up to me, I would have waited a few days to call the doctor in the hopes that it would go away, but my husband, Jim, had seen me through years of health problems and he would want quick action if he knew about this lump. It was a Thursday morning, so I called my PCP before bringing up the topic. I was lucky to get an appointment for Monday, when I assumed the lump would have disappeared by then anyhow. That afternoon, I went up to Jim with a don’t freak out-it’s-no-big-deal preamble, as if that ever works.
The bulge was unsettlingly easy to find, so he decided to check it out for himself. I will always remember the expression on his face. Despite the placid veneer, his internal warning system went full throttle. He persisted, and as a result, the Monday appointment was rescheduled until tomorrow.
An intense learning curve
After placing the biopsy report on the table, the breast surgeon wrote the words “triple-negative,” which indicates that the cancer tested negative for the proteins HER2 and estrogen receptors (ER) and progesterone receptors (PR). Because triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) is not responsive to therapies that target those traits, there are fewer treatment options available, and the overall survival rate is lower and the recurrence rate is higher in the first few years than others.
The second, smaller tumor was benign, the surgeon revealed. However, we were considering at least stage 2 and even stage 3 cancer due to the size of the larger tumor. Her first worry was that the tumor might have pierced the wall of her chest.
There was no chance of a lumpectomy. This was not a slow-growing malignancy that could wait, she emphasized. We needed to act as quickly and forcefully as the cancer did.
I was already a survivor, according to the surgeon. My mind swirled with images of pink ribbons and headscarves.
Diagnosis Journals
“It is impossible to get ready for that moment.”
During the procedure, I noticed the almost imperceptible moment when the doctor and nurse’s eyes met—the same knowing look my PCP had the week before—and their eyes told the story they were not yet ready to say aloud. A nurse gave me a pink carnation as I was heading toward the outer waiting room. Did you know that it was Breast Cancer Awareness Month? I was acutely aware of it. A breast biopsy is by no means pleasant, but it was necessary, and I felt like I was in good hands.
It still seemed inconceivable that anything so terrible could be occurring inside of me when I felt so healthy, and five days is a long time to wait for biopsy results. You have to separate the anxiety and the questions while you go about your day.