Wow. I feel like I ran a marathon without taking a single step.
We went to the Cancer center for my 1:15 appt yesterday. We didn't leave until almost 5. I walked in feeling sick to my stomach and terrified. I left feeling confident and thankful, yet still terrified. Nothing about this is easy, yet Matt and I will find a joke at every turn. It's how we deal...it's how we cope. So our appointment was long and tiring, yet also full of laughter and positivity.
We first met with Dr. Metkus, my breast surgeon. She was warm and welcoming, and so very nice. She was matter of fact, and not quick to tell me what I *have* to do, but rather what my options are. She let it be known that there are still factors we don't know ... exactly how big the tumor is and what stage I'm in (mammogram puts it at over 2 cm which is automatically Stage II, while the ultrasound shows it at 1.7 cm - or Stage 1), if the tumor is estrogen positive, etc. She talked about future testing - I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and genetic testing on Thursday. The MRI may show more "things" in my breasts that may or may not be cancerous. Per Dr. Google, I had already read that this is a very sensitive test and not the most reliable. Yet, if my very well researched breast surgeon thinks I should have one, I am all for it. Genetic testing is of extreme interest to me. If I test positive for the BRCA I or BRCA II gene, I have a "very high likelihood" that cancer will return to one of my breasts in the future. A positive result also means that I have a much higher likelihood of developing ovarian cancer in my post menopausal years.
Dr. Metkus advised I have 2 choices:
1. Lumpectomy followed by radiation and chemo
2. Double mastectomy followed by chemo
She refrained from saying what she thinks I should do, but did say if genetic testing comes back positive, the general feeling amongst the doctors would be to go for the double mastectomy - or, as I say - the Dooblay.
After Dr. Metkus left, we met with the radiation oncologist - Dr. Weller. Our meeting with him was the shortest. Even he said that at my age, if I was his daughter, he'd tell me to go for "the Dooblay." While I never wanted to have a personal radiation oncologist, I really liked him and will be sad to not see him again.
Dr. Adler, the chemo doctor as I call him, was next. He put me at ease right away, and I feel very confident in his care. He let me know that the chemo will kill any stray cancer cells in my body, and that he can't tell what my specific chemo treatment will be until all of the pathology on the tumor are in. He was candid, he was funny, and he clearly knows what he is doing. At this point in the day, MY decision was widely known in the room, yet he wanted me to really think about my decision before committing. He advised that while it may be the right decision, I only have ONE shot at this. I can't take it back. And I appreciate that. Yet I know that this is the only way I will rest at night....
I choose the Dooblay. (Although I told the Dr.'s I would still think about it.. ssshhhh!!)
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly (ha ha), we met with Dr. Griffin - the plastic surgeon who will do my reconstruction. It was very odd to stand in front of this man and show him my breasts, with my husband watching, letting him squeeze them, push them around, grab my belly fat, and generally analyze me at my most vulnerable. Yet I know he is highly regarded in his field, and will make me feel as close to normal after this whole nightmare as I can possibly ever feel again. He was the most clinical in his descriptions too, and I felt lost after 5 minutes of talking to him. We kept hearing words like DIEP, flanks, nipple reconstruction and whatnot. At this point my head was pounding and my mouth was dry. When he explained how they re create nipples using skin, folding it like origami, and then tattooing it the right shade of pinkish brown, I was both astounded and nauseated. So you're saying I'm going to have FAKE nipples? Made out of origami? WHOSE skin is this?! Mine, I hope.. but again, I was d.o.n.e. at this point in the day.
The best (or worst) part was when he grabbed my belly "flanks" and matter of factly stated that we could absolutely use my own belly fat to reconstruct my breasts... and that they would be SMALLER than they are now. Umm, come again!?!? Like Cancer isn't bad enough.. now you're telling me I can have a boob job and be SMALLER than I already am (like that's even possible!!) ?!?!?! I'm still waiting for this to turn my way.. anyday now, right!?!?
We left after talking to Dr. Griffin with a binder of information, and pounding headaches. But with a renewed faith that I was going to be OKAY. At no point during the afternoon was my mortality questioned. It seemed like a given to them that this was caught so early, it wasn't a question of my surviving now, but more a question of what my course of treatment is going to be so I ensure the longest possible lifespan.
Chemo is going to be hell. This I do not doubt. But we'll deal with that as it comes. For now, I revel in the fact that I caught this early, and I am going to LIVE.
We went to the Cancer center for my 1:15 appt yesterday. We didn't leave until almost 5. I walked in feeling sick to my stomach and terrified. I left feeling confident and thankful, yet still terrified. Nothing about this is easy, yet Matt and I will find a joke at every turn. It's how we deal...it's how we cope. So our appointment was long and tiring, yet also full of laughter and positivity.
We first met with Dr. Metkus, my breast surgeon. She was warm and welcoming, and so very nice. She was matter of fact, and not quick to tell me what I *have* to do, but rather what my options are. She let it be known that there are still factors we don't know ... exactly how big the tumor is and what stage I'm in (mammogram puts it at over 2 cm which is automatically Stage II, while the ultrasound shows it at 1.7 cm - or Stage 1), if the tumor is estrogen positive, etc. She talked about future testing - I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and genetic testing on Thursday. The MRI may show more "things" in my breasts that may or may not be cancerous. Per Dr. Google, I had already read that this is a very sensitive test and not the most reliable. Yet, if my very well researched breast surgeon thinks I should have one, I am all for it. Genetic testing is of extreme interest to me. If I test positive for the BRCA I or BRCA II gene, I have a "very high likelihood" that cancer will return to one of my breasts in the future. A positive result also means that I have a much higher likelihood of developing ovarian cancer in my post menopausal years.
Dr. Metkus advised I have 2 choices:
1. Lumpectomy followed by radiation and chemo
2. Double mastectomy followed by chemo
She refrained from saying what she thinks I should do, but did say if genetic testing comes back positive, the general feeling amongst the doctors would be to go for the double mastectomy - or, as I say - the Dooblay.
After Dr. Metkus left, we met with the radiation oncologist - Dr. Weller. Our meeting with him was the shortest. Even he said that at my age, if I was his daughter, he'd tell me to go for "the Dooblay." While I never wanted to have a personal radiation oncologist, I really liked him and will be sad to not see him again.
Dr. Adler, the chemo doctor as I call him, was next. He put me at ease right away, and I feel very confident in his care. He let me know that the chemo will kill any stray cancer cells in my body, and that he can't tell what my specific chemo treatment will be until all of the pathology on the tumor are in. He was candid, he was funny, and he clearly knows what he is doing. At this point in the day, MY decision was widely known in the room, yet he wanted me to really think about my decision before committing. He advised that while it may be the right decision, I only have ONE shot at this. I can't take it back. And I appreciate that. Yet I know that this is the only way I will rest at night....
I choose the Dooblay. (Although I told the Dr.'s I would still think about it.. ssshhhh!!)
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly (ha ha), we met with Dr. Griffin - the plastic surgeon who will do my reconstruction. It was very odd to stand in front of this man and show him my breasts, with my husband watching, letting him squeeze them, push them around, grab my belly fat, and generally analyze me at my most vulnerable. Yet I know he is highly regarded in his field, and will make me feel as close to normal after this whole nightmare as I can possibly ever feel again. He was the most clinical in his descriptions too, and I felt lost after 5 minutes of talking to him. We kept hearing words like DIEP, flanks, nipple reconstruction and whatnot. At this point my head was pounding and my mouth was dry. When he explained how they re create nipples using skin, folding it like origami, and then tattooing it the right shade of pinkish brown, I was both astounded and nauseated. So you're saying I'm going to have FAKE nipples? Made out of origami? WHOSE skin is this?! Mine, I hope.. but again, I was d.o.n.e. at this point in the day.
The best (or worst) part was when he grabbed my belly "flanks" and matter of factly stated that we could absolutely use my own belly fat to reconstruct my breasts... and that they would be SMALLER than they are now. Umm, come again!?!? Like Cancer isn't bad enough.. now you're telling me I can have a boob job and be SMALLER than I already am (like that's even possible!!) ?!?!?! I'm still waiting for this to turn my way.. anyday now, right!?!?
We left after talking to Dr. Griffin with a binder of information, and pounding headaches. But with a renewed faith that I was going to be OKAY. At no point during the afternoon was my mortality questioned. It seemed like a given to them that this was caught so early, it wasn't a question of my surviving now, but more a question of what my course of treatment is going to be so I ensure the longest possible lifespan.
Chemo is going to be hell. This I do not doubt. But we'll deal with that as it comes. For now, I revel in the fact that I caught this early, and I am going to LIVE.
Comments
Post a Comment