Telling the Kids

I have two fabulous boys.  One is not a boy anymore - he's 22, living on his own, has had a darling girlfriend for several years whom I love, and they are busy working out their future.  The other is 12, an 8th grade scholar/computer geek excelling in a rigorous IB program.

My older son is like me, poor kid.  ADD, dreamy, loving, tempermental, flighty, creative, funny, slightly rebellious of authority.   I'm worse than he is - at his age I had no plans beyond deepening my tan and then hitting cocktail hour - he is already steady, with a girlfriend and a life.  He has plans, and I never have.  I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and worse, I don't really much care.  I'm so proud that he's better than me.

My youngest is like his Dad.  Very smart, mathematically gifted, takes school seriously, has the amazing (to me) ability to plan and achieve.   He's the kid that gets all the awards, that never forgets to do homework, who always pulls As and Os, and who has a bright future in a field I could never understand in a million years.

I love them both dearly, more than life itself.

Weirdly, I couldn't wait to tell them.

See, that's what ADD does to you.  You never have the ability to keep things in the back of your brain - once it's manifested itself, out it comes.  I'm now 51 and learned a few coping tricks - so I didn't mention it despite my certainty with Dr. Google's confirmation.  I waited until I got a doctor's 80% confirmation.

My husband thought we should wait for the biopsy results and 100% certainty, but I know there was no way I could be that secretive for that long.   It would kill me, holding it in from the most important people in my life.

So, I told them both.  Easy, breezy mom.  "Hey kids.  Looks like I have breast cancer.  I  might get sick for a while depending on the treatment, but I'll be fine."

Both took it in stride, the way I expected boys to do.  Different as they are, the both had the same response:

"k"

That's why I love boys.

Growing Suspicions

August, 2009

Being turned away for a regular mammogram sparked something in me, even though nobody had even seen my breasts.  I did call my doctor to get the right orders, then I turned to my old friend, google.

"hard breast lump, indentation, dimple"

6,740 results in 0.58 seconds and all of them landing on breast cancer sites.

I totally didn't like that result, so I add  "+cyst."  Still getting all kinds of breast cancer sites.

I try a new tactic and do a google image search (breast dimple) to find a picture of what my breast looks like so I can see other non-cancerous weird breast shapes.

I suggest you not try that search as there is some horrible hole you can get in your butt that shows up with those search terms, and I had to see those photos dozens of times before I found a picture similar to my breast indendation:

Here is what I see:

 

Except, it's on the right side of the nipple, but kind of in the same place. 

And yeah, that is from a cancer site. 

My lump is painful, which I find out is a good sign as cancer doesn't hurt. 

Except when it does.

Over the next week, I become obsessed with that lump.  I'm constantly feeling it.  I'm like a 14 year old male getting to 2nd base for the first time.  I'm pinching, squeezing, inspecting.  I google cancer symptoms then check:  is it movable?  No, it doesn't seem to be.  Squishy?  Nope.  Is it attached to the skin?  Hard to say, but I can't really pinch above the lump. Attached to the chest wall?  I dig around to try and find out.    I look at the skin close up, and it's darkened above the lump.  Is that because of my manhandling?  I don't know.  The skin appears a little bit dimpled, which I learn is called peau de' orange, or orange peel.  I'm not SURE if I  have peau de' orange or if I'm imagining it. The skin does look different though.

What I am sure of is I have cancer.  Just as I was 110% sure it was a cyst before my phantom mammogram -  after my hours of googling, I was 110% sure in the other direction.

I have breast cancer.

Mammogram Day

August 7 2009.  I show up at my appointment for the mammogram.

Now, let me sidetrack you a bit with more discussion of my breasts.  Since this will involve nothing interesting for you men, feel free to skip this part.  My breasts have been problematic for a few years.  When I hit my mid-40s and began perimenopause, I found they got very painful with my cycles.  They'd swell, they'd be super sensitive and painful.   I couldn't stand to take off my bra or face the shower.  Then I'd have my period and they'd be normal for ten days, until it started all over again.  As I got older, I got very little relief after my period, and was down to maybe two days of non-pain.  I had a nice little wardrobe of daytime and nightime bras going by that time.  So, I kind of skipped my mammograms as it was impossible to make an appointment during my pain-free days.

I have none of the risk factors for breast cancer - no family history, I'm thin, I eat healthy, I'm not a heavy drinker, I don't smoke.   Early mammograms showed dense, heavy breast tissue that made it very difficult to get an accurate reading, plus with all the cysts I had and all the pain, I just figured it wasn't going to be worth the extra testing I'd have to do since I'm not at risk.  Plus, the radiology company lost my baseline mammogram and if they weren't going to take it seriously, I wasn't sure why I had to.  I felt this particular bullet was going to skip me.  My intention was to have a stroke.  So, it's been more than five years since my last mammogram.

My bad.

Anyway, I walk in on the 7th and get the paperwork and fill it out.  I turn it in and ask the woman at the desk if they can drain the lump right there.

She looks up at me and blinks.

"You have a lump?"

"Yes, I told the guy on the phone when I made the appointment a month ago."

"And, he made the appointment?  He shouldn't have done that, you need a diagnostic mammogram and a sonogram."

I'd never heard of this, WTF?  A mammogram is a mammogram right?

I said, "Can you just do that now?"

She said that a doctor has to be there for these, and there are no doctors there during my appointment time, they all leave at 3:00.  She said that they can still do the mammogram but she knows for a fact that they'll make me come back for the diagnostic studies and it would be just a waste of my time.

The thought of having my sensitive and painful breasts clamped in a ice cold vice grip twice didn't appeal to me, so I accepted her proposal.

She says to call my doctor and get the orders for the diagnostic mammogram/ultrasound and she made an appointment with me for August 17th.

Before I left, I did ask her, "The doctor will be able to drain the cyst that day, right?"

She said yes.

What the heck is that?

Stardate, May 2009.

It's night, and I'm getting ready for bed. I take off my bra, and check myself out in the mirror. I just had my 51st birthday but am still very pleased with my Dorian Gray breasts. I've certainly aged and things are starting to slide and wrinkle - quite horrifyingly in some areas - with the exception of my breasts. Even at my age, and after breastfeeding two babies, and being a full C cup on a 100 pound body - they are still perky and shaped like they were when I was 25.

Life can play some pretty spectacular jokes when it wants to.

So, I look in the mirror and I see a funny crease on the side of my breast. I go show my husband, already in bed.

"Look at that!" I demand, like it was ever necessary to demand he look at my breasts.

"Wow, that looks like a lump."

I felt around and yes, there was a very hard, marble sized lump where the creasing was. I was not alarmed a bit though. I have very cystic, dense breasts, full of lumps that shrink and grow with my cycles. They are alive and changing, my breasts. This one was bigger, granted. It felt harder. But, it was still just another lump in a lifetime of lumps. So, I figured I'd ignore it for a cycle and see what happened.

And, that's what I did.