Keep a Journal

A very important step on your walk with breast cancer is to keep a journal that goes with you to all of your doctor appointments.

Here’s the journal I used when I first got diagnosed:

You’re going to get TONS of information and it’s a LOT to remember! It can be very overwhelming. So write down what your doctors say. If you can, bring someone, too. It’s also a great idea to write down all of your questions before going to your appointments. I had so many questions that I couldn’t possibly remember them all.

Also, when you talk to other survivors, write down their advice, recommendations, and any referrals for second opinions. By the way, shout out to ALL the wonderful, amazing women I’ve spoken to who have shared their stories and given me so many awesome tips that I can now share with others. Thank you so much!!

I’m now in chemo (my second round as I write this) and this is my chemo journal where I track all of my side effects for each chemo cycle, the medicine I need to take, what works, what doesn’t, and how I’m feeling. When you do this, you’ll start to see patterns and learn how to best manage your side effects. Very interesting and it definitely works! I know how to get ahead of a side effect so I can prevent it. I’m all about less pain and more comfort.

The MRI

It’s positive for cancer in both my right breast and two of my armpit lymph nodes. Really? Yes. This SUCKS! Now what?

The MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging): It’s really not that bad although I’m poked by yet another needle. This one is for injecting me with some fluid during the procedure. Yikes! I hate needles!

I lie down on my stomach on this long rectangular table and stick my boobs in cups. Kinda uncomfortable. Then the table slides in and out of this large, tubular machine for about a half an hour. Easy…although I must stay incredibly still. They give me headphones to listen to music. It drowns out the loud foghorn sound of the magnet machine as it creates detailed images of the organs and tissues in my chest and armpits.

Throughout the half hour, I say positive affirmations in my mind, praying that nothing else shows up on my left breast. I repeat, “I’m healthy, whole, and complete.” Something I learned from Louise Hay’s book, You Can Heal Your Life.
http://www.amazon.com/You-Can-Heal-Your-Life/dp/0937611018

After it’s over, I’m feeling exhausted. The nurse gives me a reward at the end: a warm, chewy cookie! To hell with sugar feeding cancer, I eat my cookie! I deserve it.

Results: My left breast is clean. YAAAAY! But I’m still positive for the tumor in my right breast and two armpit lymph nodes. Praise God there’s nothing more!

Get a copy of the MRI on a CD. Ask for it BEFORE the procedure. YOU are your best advocate! Get copies of your mammograms and ultrasounds on CD as well. Finally, get copies of all pathology reports and slides! You might have to hunt them down from various places as I did but you will need these for your second opinions.

My D-Day

My first step on my walk with breast cancer, well, starts at the beginning: I go to my gyno’s office for a routine appointment. When she feels my breast, she says, “You have a lump. Have you felt it before?”

I reach down and feel it. Yep, there’s a lump an inch above my right nipple. It’s small, hard. Why didn’t I feel it before?

That afternoon I have a mammogram, soon followed by an ultrasound. It doesn’t look good. The nurse takes a long look at the monitor.  She hesitates then says it doesn’t look like a cyst, which would be smooth.  It looks irregular. The radiologist comes into the room and looks at the ultrasound. His brow creases with some concern. He runs the ultrasound wand over my right breast, armpit, and up to my collarbone. Wasn’t sure at first why he went up to my collarbone…apparently there are lymph nodes there as well.

He asks if we can biopsy my right breast and the armpit lymph nodes. Worry took hold of me, seeing how quickly he wanted to get this done. “Sure,” I said, not knowing how a biopsy would feel. I tell him to talk me through it. It always makes me more comfortable when I know what to expect. First, he sticks me with some numbing stuff. Then, like the sound of a staple gun, he marks the areas where he’s taken pieces of me, six to be exact: three from my breast and three from my armpit. I return to the mammogram machine to take more pictures.

He suspects it’s cancer but I would have to wait. Turns out, the lab is closed for Independence Day! It’s an excruciatingly  L-O-N-G three-day weekend.

It’s surreal. I spend three days held captive by my new tormentors: shock, panic, and denial.