The cancer game show…

First off I just wanted to thank you all for your amazing support, encouragement, and all the love you have shown us over these last few days. Thanks too for the many days, weeks, months, and years of love and friendship preceding them. I feel so incredibly blessed to have so many wonderful people in our world, and while I might not have the time to thank you all individually please know that I am eternally grateful for you, and most appreciative of all the offer(s) to help.

This has been hard on me but I think somehow it’s been harder on some of you. You might think it’s morbid to have thought it, but I just always had this sneaking suspicion I’d eventually develop breast cancer. I don’t want to say I was waiting for it, and I especially wasn’t expecting it to happen at 35, but somehow the diagnosis didn’t shock me. Having said that, I want you all to know that I have every intention of beating this. I am hopeful that it has been found early and is not life-threatening. Either way, I have made up my mind to get through it, and I have to echo my mom here, there is no other choice for me. 23 years ago I watched my mom courageously battle and beat this disease. 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer. I am empowered by technology, friendship, love, and hope.

My biggest obstacle right now is all the decisions that need to be made. There are so many options and let’s face it, “options” I’m comfortable with, decisions not so much…especially when there’s such finality behind the most of the decisions. I thought I knew what I wanted but after speaking with the surgeon today, and her throwing a plethora of options at me, well, now I’m not so sure. I don’t want to overreact. I want to be comfortable with the decision I make AND have it be medically justified. No one is telling me what to do, which is good in a way, but it’s also very intimidating. I don’t want to make a choice out of fear but then again my instinct is telling me to go for the mastectomy. I am 35 years old, when I get over this, I am going to have a lot of years left, and I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s as if I’m on some kind of twisted cancer game show, and the host is looking at me and asking if this is my final answer.

Basically the survival/success rates of having a lumpectomy (partial removal of the breast tissue in addition to the tumor) vs. mastectomy (removal of the entire breast) are basically neck and neck. The issue lies in whether or not the cancer has spread, which unfortunately they won’t know until they actually get in there, remove the tumor, and biopsy the lymph nodes. My feeling is that I should not make a decision just because I’m scared and ignore all the data. Howie and I have spent a lot of time talking and going over our options. We haven’t made any decisions yet, and probably won’t until we get the results from the MRI, gene testing, and a consultation with a plastic surgeon regarding breast re-construction surgery. We meet with the plastic surgeon next Friday; I’ll also have a bi-lateral MRI that same day. I am also going to be tested for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes (short for BReast CAncer Gene 1 and 2). Mutation of these genes is associated with an increased risk of breast and ovarian cancers. Men and women with altered versions of BRCA1 or BRCA2 are at a higher risk of developing breast cancer compared to men and women who have normal BRCA genes. However, only 4 to 9 percent of breast cancer diagnoses made each year are thought to be inherited, and only a fraction of these cases have been linked to BRCA gene mutations. So really, even testing positively for the gene will only tell me so much and may or may not influence my decision to have the mastectomy. And if I do decide on the mastectomy, I have to figure out exactly what kind of mastectomy I want and what kind of reconstructive surgery I want as well. Whatever I decide, I promise to keep you all updated on any decisions we make and any information we get from the various doctors.

For the most part I am ok, not with cancer, but with the getting through every day. However, having to wean Ryan has been pretty brutal…on both of us. My good friend Sam said it best, “I’m trying to break the habit without breaking her heart,” or mine, and needless to say, it’s been a very emotional week. I was planning on weaning Ryan eventually, like when she’s 12, but I suspect that I am grieving for her babyhood, and was having a hard time letting go of it. I worked so hard to nurse, and I guess a part of me really resents the fact that I have to stop now, and that it’s not by my own choosing. It’s also at an accelerated rate, and with every other emotion so heightened by the cancer diagnosis, it’s been difficult to say the least.

I apologize for the length of this post but most of this has been on my mind and I have to admit it’s been very therapeutic to get it all out and be able to go over it again without other thoughts interrupting.

Before I sign off I wanted to address a couple of your emailed questions in one forum. Comments on this blog are not only appreciated, poured (and sometimes cried) over, but they are highly anticipated and greatly welcomed. They also help in more ways than one…comments allow me to not feel so overwhelmed by individual emails (or phone calls), although you are welcome to send those too, it’s just that I am finding it difficult to write or call back everyone in a timely manner and this blog allows me to just spit it out in one sitting. Granted, it’s very stream of consciousness but if you’re reading this and know Howie and me, you shouldn’t be surprised by that. Anyhow, if you would like to comment, and we definitely encourage it, scroll to the bottom of the post you want to respond to, in very tiny lettering below our sign off, you will see “Posted by Deb at 12:15PM 21 comments.” Click on the 21 comments and you will be able to post your own. Also, some of you have offered up friends and or colleagues for me to talk to, various suggestions, and general encouragement. All I can say to that is keep em coming. I can’t promise I’ll call every person but I will do what I can and suspect I will be looking into cancer support groups, but I’m not there just yet.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for listening, and thank you for making me feel so incredibly loved. I am so touched by your support, and appreciate each and every one of you. I’ll be in touch again soon.