Mammogram is done.
So is my uncertainty.
Everything is good.
Next up: MRI in November.
Archive for the ‘Tests’ Category
Mammogram Done
Monday, June 21st, 2010Mammogram Monday
Monday, June 21st, 2010
Photo: waterrose, Flickr
I’m not sure how my birthday and my annual mammogram ended up sharing the same week, but gosh, how bad is that going to be if something fishy turns up the day after the happy occasion of turning another year older? Yikes. Everything turned out A-OK last year (mammo the day before my birthday), so fingers crossed the pattern continues.
This morning, my boobies will endure the ceremonial flattening (think Jack Black, plus a lot more skin), and I can only hope that I return to announce that they are just fine and dandy.
Pretty blue robe, here I come.
The Cost of Surviving Cancer
Thursday, May 6th, 2010
Photo: geishaboy500, Flickr
Surviving cancer is a good thing. Really, it is. I mean, look at the alternative. Still, living on and on after a cancer diagnosis comes with a little bit of a price tag.
My personal bottom line: the potential for heart disease, maybe some additional cancers and increased cancer risk for some family members. No one can promise these curses will come to life, but no one says they won’t either. And that’s why I visited today with a very nice doctor at the forward-thinking Cancer Survivor Program at Shands Hospital, to learn all about what might face me, and what I can do about it all.
My heart. In the past five years, I’ve had three treatments with the power to compromise cardiac function. There’s that toxic Adriamycin chemo drug (four doses, two weeks apart, over eight weeks time), and the radiation that zapped the area directly over my heart (every day for six weeks), and then Herceptin — the potential life-saver that sailed through my veins every three weeks over the course of one whole year. The good news is that I’m probably out of the woods with Herceptin, it usually does its damage during treatment or shortly thereafter. But the chemo drug and the radiation, these still have time, and usually, adverse reactions occur eight to ten years after chemotherapy. Enter the echocardiogram. I’ll have one in three years to start monitoring my ticker. And I’ll keep exercising and (mostly) eating right to keep in good shape. (Today’s resting heart rate: 50.)
More cancers. Sometimes leukemia comes as a side effect of chemotherapy (ironic, isn’t it?), but I’m likely beyond the risky time frame for that one. Bladder cancer isn’t entirely out of the question, however, because one of my poisonous chemo drugs was processed through my bladder, and apparently, that’s not a great thing. Skin cancer, too. My risk is higher now. Perhaps the basal cell cancer I had removed from my left arm last year can be linked to this risk. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. I should pay attention to the left side of my body, though, says my doc, because that’s where another cancer might show up.
My kids. My kiddos — both boys — are not really at risk. Of course, they can get breast cancer, it’s just not very probable. And their kids, if they have girls, are not at higher risk, either, even though their grandma (me!) had the disease. Had I tested positive for BRCA, they would have been. But I didn’t, so they aren’t.
My sister’s two girls — no one knows for sure, but they probably will be fine. Same for my mom — the risk travels mostly from older to younger, not younger to older. My sister (sorry, Tracy!) is the one who gets the short end of the stick. My having had breast cancer ups her risk, which is why she gets a mammogram every year, and why she’s already had a baseline MRI.
Am I scared by the cost of surviving cancer? No. I have every reason to believe none of this will ever affect me. And if it does, worrying about it now won’t do me a bit of good. If anything, I’m just happy to be alive and thrilled that I had the chance to sit with a doctor five years after I wasn’t sure I’d survive at all.
E.D. Hill: Surgery May Have Saved Her Life
Thursday, February 18th, 2010
Photo: Indenture, Flickr
Former Fox News anchor and conservative journalist E.D. Hill was back on “The View” today, talking all about the nipple-sparing mastectomy she had two weeks and two days ago. She shared previously that she would have the prophylactic surgery, even though she did not have breast cancer, because of a strong family history. Now that it’s over, she has no regrets.
Hill said she had very dense breast tissue, and cysts, and some suspicious stuff, too — like a gray area that kept showing up on mammogram, sonogram and MRI. Post-surgery pathology revealed this area to be pre-cancerous. Left untouched, it could have turned into the disease Hill hopefully has escaped with this preventative surgery.
Hill is now in the process of reconstruction, with expanders in place, and she’s speaking out about what some believe to be a drastic measure — removing breasts without a breast cancer diagnosis.
Most readers here believe Hill made the right decision, and many of you have made the same one. Thanks so much for sharing your stories. They matter — really, they do.
Everything is Fine
Thursday, February 11th, 2010That biopsy I had done last week on a mole on the back of my shoulder — fine, nothing wrong, just normal. Oh, and that ache in my foot that kept me from running for a few days. Also fine. And so I’m ready to run on Sunday — 7 a.m., 13.1 miles, ribbons and all.
Flashback: December 2, 2004
Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009On Thursday, December 2, I had a radioactive dye injected into my breast. The dye slowly collected in my main lymph node, the sentinel node. During surgery, this lymph node would be blue so the doctor could easily find it and biopsy it. The biopsy would give him clues about my other lymph nodes. For the rest of this day, I was very anxious about surgery. I didn’t know what kind of prognosis I would wake up to hear and whether or not I would still have my breast.
Flashback: November 29, 2004
Sunday, November 29th, 2009
SarahMcD ?, Flickr
On November 29, I met with a surgeon at Shands who prepared me for my first step: surgery. He said he would remove the lump and would determine whether or not my lymph nodes were cancerous. He would check all the margins around my breast to see if any surrounding tissue was affected and would identify all the defining factors of my cancer. If he found extensive cancer, he would have to remove my breast. I had to sign a form stating that my surgery was to be a lumpectomy but could turn into a mastectomy. My surgery was scheduled for Friday of this same week.
Beautifully Benign
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009
matze_ott, Flickr
Five years ago, on November 24, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. And today, on another November 24, I learned that my recent MRI, showing some suspicious little nodules, is nothing to worry about. The news comes from my surgeon, who offered me a second opinion. The first opinion, by the way, was that I probably had nothing to worry about, but now it’s official:
“Your MRI is fine, the small spots represent fibrocystic disease, a benign condition.”
Whew!
Flashback: November 23, 2004
Monday, November 23rd, 2009
Brittany G, Flickr
On November 23, I had a biopsy. A large needle was placed in my breast and a piece of the lump was pulled out. The surgeon had a hard time getting a piece, however, because it moved around so much. He said this was a good sign, the movement. He sent the tissue to pathology and told me to call his office the next afternoon for the results.
MRI Shows Low-Risk Changes
Friday, November 20th, 2009Crap.
I was hoping for an e-mail from my oncologist that went something like this:
“Your MRI results are back, and everything is great!”
But this is what I got:
“Your MRI report is attached; My take is that there are some low risk changes and that we should keep doing what we have been, the mammogram alternating with the MRI. Let me know if you want to talk.”
We talked. And my doctor said he thinks we are fine to just keep monitoring — even though the report said things like: There has been interval development of few small, less than 3 mm enhancing foci located more posteriorly within the right breast which demonstrate Type II enhancement curves. No space-occupying lesions are identified. No other concerning enhancing lesions are identified.
You see, tests like MRI are very sensitive, and they pick up all sorts of things. It’s all probably benign, it could be fibrous stuff, or hormonal stuff, who knows.
The “who knows” part is what scares me. Maybe it shouldn’t. The radiologists involved are apparently very cautious, and if they were worried, they would have recommended further action. Still, I’m going to have my surgeon and some others take a look at the report on Monday.
Some good news — everything on the left side is good, and that’s where the cancer was five years ago. It’s the right side that is causing trouble now.
More as the mystery unfolds.
Flashback: November 19, 2004
Thursday, November 19th, 2009
Elisabeth Augusta, Flickr
I was the youngest person waiting to get my mammogram, another sign that this lump was nothing serious because it is not common for young women to have breast cancer. Mammograms are not even recommended for women under the age of 40. I am 34.
The mammogram films looked OK, and the technician told me the doctor would talk to me, but that she was not worried about anything. This was true, but she did an ultrasound anyway to look further at the lump. She determined it was not a cyst, which is fairly common, and nothing serious. It could be a fibroma (a common growth that can be removed or left in place without harm) or it could be cancer. She said she wanted me to have the lump removed. She wanted it out and in a jar, she said.
I asked her if it could be cancer, and she said it could be.
Either I’m Fine or I’m Sick
Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
Another MRI.
Quick this time around.
Answered some questions.
Filled out some forms.
Blue gown and underwear.
IV in arm.
Beeping and screeching.
Kelly Clarkson in my ears.
8 minutes on my back.
20 on my belly.
Boobs through holes in table.
Someone snapping pictures.
“Pretty,” she called the pics.
I was still and didn’t move.
The real answer comes tomorrow:
Everything is fine, or maybe it’s not.
Relaxing at home.
Not worried, really.
Either I’m fine, or I’m sick.
I know the drill.
5 years looming on horizon.
Will I make it free and clear?
I think so.
Will let you know.
Mammogram and MRI: Mix ‘Em Up
Thursday, October 8th, 2009Check this out: I just read in Family Circle magazine (October 1, 2009) that alternating between mammograms and MRIs every six months is a potentially lifesaving measure for women at high risk for breast cancer. This comes straight from new research out of the University of Texas M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. I find this reassuring because it’s the exact schedule I follow — mammogram, MRI six months later, mammogram six months later, and so on.
More research, from Dartmouth University in Hanover, New Hampshire, found that MRIs can spot tumors not found in mammogram or ultrasound in 20 percent of breast cancers.
I think I’m covered. Whew.
Mammogram Bus Rolling Through Puerto Rico
Wednesday, September 16th, 2009
Ruta Pink mammogram bus
With early detection often leading to a 98-percent survival rate, mammograms are essential for women over 35. Unfortunately, millions of American women are uninsured, and don’t have the means to afford an annual mammogram test. But in Puerto Rico, uninsured women are turning to a new program for help.
Last year, Doral Bank in Puerto Rico partnered with Susan G Komen for the Cure and launched “Ruta Pink” (Pink Route). Ruta Pink is a pink mobile mammogram clinic that stops through various towns in Puerto Rico, offering women (and even men!) free mammograms, but also biopsies and referrals. These healthcare services are offered free of charge, for both sexes, whether they insured or uninsured.
In addition to providing direct health care services, Ruta Pink is also running free educational seminars about breast cancer prevention. The sessions also address self-esteem and healthy living tips for breast cancer survivors.
Since launching in June of 2008, Ruta Pink’s medical team has performed over 2,000 mammograms. And Doral is also committed to helping the Susan G Komen foundation by offering contributions every time a woman opens a “Pink” account with the bank.
With breast cancer awareness month (October) just around the corner, Doral Bank in Puerto Rico is leading the way for breast cancer prevention and education with its innovative, award-winning Ruta Pink initiative.
For more information about the program, you can contact the program’s exclusive hotline at (787) 625-5830 or visit their website at www.RutaPink.com. You can also watch their videos on YouTube at www.youtube.com/rutapink
Fine
Monday, April 20th, 2009
At 8 a.m. this morning, I arrived at the oncology clinic at Shands Hospital in Gainesville, FL for a six-month breast cancer follow-up. I sat in a nearly empty waiting room for a short time, then was moved to an exam room, where I had my blood drawn (ouch!), my weight checked (good news), my blood pressure taken (low, but good) and my temperature taken (98.3). Then met with my lovely Dr. who checked my boobs, my lymph nodes, my belly and my breathing.
Everything was just fine.
And then I drove away. And it’s been a glorious day ever since.
Clearly great
Friday, May 16th, 2008
Mammogram: Clear
Ultrasound: Clear
My mood: Great
It could have gone the other way. One of my imaging tests today could have turned up something suspicious which would have dictated a completely different outcome and a much worse mood. It happened three and a half years ago when the doctor who'd seen my tumor on ultrasound said, "I want this out and in a jar." That tumor that landed in a jar days later was cancer. And so every time I'm screened and every time I see my oncologist for a follow-up (coming this Monday), I'm never really sure how clear or how great things will be. I'm sure for now, though. My boobs show no sign of cancer. My mood shows no sign of worry. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Sigh.
photo courtesy of JerrytheSaint on flickr
Clarification
Thursday, March 20th, 2008My doctor says those disturbing words used in my echocardiogram report to describe the valves of my heart—dilated, thickened, insufficient—are “normal variants.” They are medically insignificant. Just as I’d imagined they must be. I’m thankful for the clarification, though. And my doctor is glad I poked around for more information.
“I would have been disappointed if you didn’t ask about them,” he said.
I would have been too.
Context matters
Thursday, March 20th, 2008Quick. Get me a cardiologist. My right ventricle is mildly dilated. My aortic valve is mildly thickened. And my tricuspid valve is mildly insufficient.
I’m sure this is all somehow medically insignificant. Otherwise my oncologist would not be telling me I’m good to go should I opt for a tummy tuck surgery (more about this tummy business later). If my heart couldn’t take it, surely he’d be warning me. The guy did save me from breast cancer, after all. He clearly knows what he’s talking about.
This morning, my good doctor e-mailed me a copy of my latest echocardiogram—that’s how I was able to pour over the details of this July 2006 report. I’d asked him for it as I continue to search my soul for guidance regarding my tummy, and he swiftly sent it my way. I wanted to know how my strong my ticker is—both my year-long therapy with the breast cancer drug Herceptin and my four doses of the chemotherapy drug Adriamycin put me at risk for compromised heart function and so my heart was monitored for a bit. I wanted to know today, based on my last screening, how I’d fare under general anesthesia and how my heart would tolerate a two-hour surgery—should I go through with it.
I’m good to go, says my doc. Still, I’ve asked him for a bit of clarification. What does this troublesome wording—dilated, thickened, insufficient—mean, I want to know.
This is what I want you to know: Context matters.
More and more, we patients rely on information via the Internet or in this case of mine, e-mail. These methods of research are void of human contact and medical opinion and therefore lack context. Who knows, maybe a thickened aortic valve is a good thing. Maybe it’s not necessarily good but not bad either. I don’t know. Until someone clears things up for me, I will remain uncertain. That’s why I’m following up with my doctor. You should too.
Whenever you are concerned about your health, do your research, ask around, dig up all you can. Then talk to a medical professional who can iron out all the kinks in what you’ve gathered. Balance is always a good bet. Really, it is.
Checking out my boobs
Thursday, November 15th, 2007First, my boobs were squashed like pancakes in a digital mammography machine. They were squashed from the front and squashed from the side and when the squashing was done, I was called back for more. The doctor wanted to see additional images of my high-risk breasts, so the tender little things were flattened again, and again, so more shots could be snapped. It hurt, all that squeezing. It didn’t hurt as much as breast cancer hurts but still, it hurt.
Next was my ultrasound, a painless but messy test that involves loads of gel dripping from my breasts and a wand that travels every inch of skin in search of suspicious stuff. A few questionable areas popped up but were quickly dismissed. No breast cancer, according to that ultrasound. And the mammogram too.
A breast MRI rounded out my morning — I spent about an hour sliding in and out of a tube, IV in my arm, boobs dangling toward the floor through openings on a table, buzzing sounds blaring in my ears — and while I don’t yet know the results of this humbling experience, I am confident everything is A-OK. It has to be. I’m not sure I could handle it any other way.
Why girls have so much stuff
Tuesday, May 16th, 2006Joey asked John last night, “Why do girls have so much stuff?” Hiding his laughter and feigning a serious tone, John asked Joey what he meant. Joey said, “Why do girls have boobies and bras and pants and shoes and shampoos?” I am not sure what John told Joey — I’m not sure if John even knows the answer. I do know John and I are still laughing today at this question, posed by a five-year-old who is trying to figure out this confusing world. Sometimes he can’t figure out the complexities; sometimes he gets it right on. Like the other day when Danny asked me while we were driving in our van, “Mommy, are you winning?” I told Danny that driving is not a race — even though a car had just passed me by — and that I do not try to “win.” I told him some cars drive faster and some cars drive slower but that we should all go the speed limit. Joey piped in and said, “Danny, actually, the cars that are going faster are the ones who are losing because they are going to get pulled over and get a ticket.” What perspective. Now he just has to grasp this girl thing. Maybe that won’t ever happen. All I can do is tell him why I have so much stuff. Because it makes me feel good.
But “stuff” alone doesn’t make me feel good. Simple joys do the trick too. Like watching Danny yesterday as he learned to pump his legs while swinging. And watching him today learn to start himself on the swing, without a push from anyone. He is a whole year younger than Joey was when he learned this daunting task. Danny is not even three years old. Close, though — he will be three on May 30th and he talks constantly about his party where he wants to invite Wyatt and Jayda — two five-year-olds from preschool. He invites everyone, really. At the pediatrician’s office one day recently, the doctor asked Danny his age. He said, “Gonna be three. Want to come at my party?” I’m not sure what will come of this party, which I think I will have one afternoon on the school playground. But joyous it will be. I know that for sure.
Other simple joys — a new job I was just recently offered at www.thecancerblog.com. I will work part-time writing posts that relate in some way to cancer. They can reflect news and information and personal perspective too. Oddly, several people contacted me during the same week asking if I would write for them. They found me through this blog, liked what I’ve written, and offered me jobs. I could only accept one and am honored, flattered, happy that I will get to write not only for pay but for an audience that may benefit from what I can offer. I also found out today that my site is featured as one of the top 10 sites for breast cancer information on http://breast-cancer.toptensources.com/TopTenSources/Default.aspx. And I may do some volunteer guest articles and Q & A sessions for some other sites.
More joy: a training/exercise routine that has me actually noticing a few muscles I never knew I had, a ban on candy in our house that we hope will encourage healthier eating, and a check-up with my surgeon that revealed that my breast thought to be infected is not in fact infected.
When it rains, it pours. Downpours of simple joy.
Jacki Donaldson
