Posts Tagged ‘oncologist’

MRI Shows Low-Risk Changes

Friday, November 20th, 2009

Crap.

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.

Fine

Monday, April 20th, 2009

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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.

Every Six Months

Friday, April 17th, 2009

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You’d think the days would get easier after four whole years. But still, nearly 1,600 days after my breast cancer diagnosis, it still makes me nervous to sit in an exam room every six months, in my pretty blue gown, waiting for my oncologist to reveal whether or not he feels anything suspicious in my breasts and other body parts, whether or not he finds anything wacky in my blood work and whether or not he’ll report that I am still healthy and apparently cancer-free.

The days don’t get easier, because even though my chances of survival increase with each year that passes, there are still people out there who are re-diagnosed after the exact amount of time that has elapsed for me. A woman who visited our garage sale a few weeks ago told me that on the very day she celebrated five years of survival, she was told her breast cancer had returned and was spreading. She was given three to five years to live. Crap. I haven’t even made it for five years. Clearly, this could happen to me.

Will my oncologist tell me on Monday at 8 a.m. that my cancer is back? I really don’t think so. But I really don’t know, either. And that’s why I’m nervous.

Photo courtesy of daveparker on flickr

What Breast Cancer Looks Like – Lisa and her Mom, MaryJoe

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009


Lisa says, “My mom is on her second fight with breast cancer. She was diagnosed this last time near Mother’s Day and I was getting married in September.  Last June she had a bilateral mastectomy, then 18 weeks of chemo, and then 30 treatments of radiation. During her first appointment with the oncologist she told her doctors to do what they needed to do, but she was going to my wedding (in Vegas) in September. I offered to change the wedding and she didn’t want me to do that. It was right in the middle of her chemo and she said it was a goal she set in her mind to get to that point. She went and got her chemo treatment that morning before we jumped in the car to go. She had all her instructions and whatnot in case she needed to go to a hospital out of town. Nothing was going to stop her … through out everything she kept the most positive attitude. She is amazing.

My day was so wonderful and special. I married a fabulous guy, but also a lot of that was b/c my mom was able to be there.  She is the rock in my family and I was so blessed that she was able to attend.”

Want to show me what you think breast cancer looks like? Please send me a photo that captures the essence of breast cancer, and I will display it here. Email to jackidonaldson@gmail.com, make sure your shot is at least 450 pixels wide and tell me something about the photo. No blurry pics, please.