Breast Cancer -- when It's Least Expected, You're Elected!

In the first part of 2004, I had adjusted to being retired and enjoyed it very much. Still in the planning stage was some serious redecorating or perhaps travel here and there, visiting the unwary, but first I had to have an annual follow-up mammogram - just one of those little routine nuisances that never amount to anything.

Flying High in April, Shot Down in May

As I waited for the "all clear" after my test at MacNeal Hospital, I planned to beat the lunch rush at Buona Beef on the way home. I was peeking furtively at my watch when the technician asked me to "come back in for a few more shots." I felt apologetic at first, thinking that I had accidentally moved or something to compromise the clarity of the film. Then they kept wanting MORE shots, and a few more. "Nothing is WRONG, is there?" I　asked, to which someone replied: "Your doctor is a wonderful surgeon. You don't have anything to worry about." (Now I was really worried.)

Somewhere, Buona Beef sold lunches to happy, carefree people while I next endured a tedious ultrasound. Everyone was serious. "There's a little something here", a doctor said. "You need to come back for a core biopsy." Gamely, I replied "But that doesn't mean it's CANCER, does it?" She studied the screen and mumbled: "If you were my mother, I would want you to have the biopsy." With thudding heart, I vowed silently that, when this all proved to be a false alarm, I would come back and SMACK her for giving me such a scare.

It was cancer ... a number of small Stage One and Stage Two tumors so situated that my surgeon thought it would be safer to have the breast removed then to risk less radical surgeries. I totally agreed with that but this involved more anxiety, depression, and "why-me-ing" than I would like to admit. It was a lonely feeling. I knew the cancer had been caught in time but privately thought chemotherapy would kill me. I waited at the bus stop afterward, thinking about time wasted and things I hadn't done. This was a wake-up call that it was time to start appreciating what life has to offer. I was about as blue as a person could be but on the way home I made it a point to stop and have a drink and the finest dinner I could afford at a warm, cozy restaurant. It made a big difference.

Surgery was scheduled for June 29 which was not a festive occasion, but the operation was a success. Let's hear it for Cousin Tom, who gave up a day to stay with me and relay the good news that the nodes under my arm weren't involved. (No chemotherapy or radiation!) Thanks also to everyone else who loved and prayed for me, and even sent flowers and helped me during my recuperation.

Even when everybody (including me) does the right thing, I am a person who tends to become infected after surgery and this complicated my recovery and made 2004 not the "fun year" which I had originally looked forward to. The first phase of plastic surgery had to be aborted and redone (successfully). Almost five years of daily doses of Arimidex have not been without their difficult moments but have so far kept cancer from occurring in the remaining breast (Knock on wood!). Four annual mammograms since have come up alright so far.

All things considered, I would still rather eat lunch at Buona Beef's than endure a medical test but I cannot emphasize enough the importance of the mammograms. The only way they detected my cancer at all was to compare it with the results of the previous mammogram which had been my first one in more than 25 years! Sometimes I have felt as though everyone was maybe over-reacting to such little tumors but women have actually died of breast cancer left untreated which metastasized to other parts of the body. Some cancers may not be aggressive but others take a deadly course so I feel that I was lucky after all and will never again complain about not winning the Lottery.