Writing the Journey

Through Living Beyond Breast Cancer, I am participating in a "Writing the Journey" workshop for Metastatic Breast Cancer Fighters.  Every other week for 12 weeks, we read writings by published breast cancer survivors and then are given a prompt to do our own writing.  

This week is our first 'session', so naturally the writing prompt has to do with initially finding out about having breast cancer.  I think my finding out is much different that most cancer survivors so I thought I'd share it with you.   Without further adieu, here it is in it's first drafted form:

PROMT:

Sharon Bray writes about the life changing moment when the doctor said those terrible words, “It’s cancer.”  Write about that moment from your breast cancer journey.

            I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of 2007.  My oldest child was 17, and about to graduate high school.  My first chemotherapy, and last period, was on May 15, 2007; two days before I turned 39.

            I wasn’t surprised to learn I had breast cancer.  My story isn’t ‘typical’ because I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when.  I had participated in 3 Komen 3-Days at that point, raising thousands of dollars and awareness for a disease I knew one day I would have.

            Flashback to 1984:  I was 15, a sophomore in high school and diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease.  I was Stage 2B and had 60 radiation treatments; 30 to my neck and chest area and 30 to my abdomen with a 30 day break in between the two rounds.  I missed too many days of school, but was able to be promoted because of my passing grades and a medical waiver that allowed me to miss an unlimited number of schools days due to illness.

            Several years later a trend was developing wherein females who had been exposed to radiation on their chest areas were developing breast cancer.  I was told to start having mammograms beginning at age 30 as opposed to waiting for the recommended age 40.  At 32 I had a mammogram.  I had my next mammogram when I was 38.

            I don’t recall the exact date, but I was adjusting ‘myself’ in my bra and I felt a knot.  It was the size of a walnut.  I kept an eye on it for a couple of months and when it didn’t go away, I went to my local Planned Parenthood for a breast exam.

            I went for the exam and while the doctor couldn’t say whether it was a cancerous tumor or a cyst. He sent me to our local University hospital for a mammogram the following day.  The mammogram showed several suspicious areas in both breast and an ultrasound was performed on the knot. A biopsy was ordered for the tumor, which was now the size of an egg.

            At this point, no one knew that I was visiting doctors and having tests and such.  So, for me, what was traumatically more worse than hearing the words, “You have cancer”, was having to tell my mother that I needed a biopsy.  The only reason I told her was because I wouldn’t be able to pick up my toddler for two days after the biopsy, so I needed her to help me.  If not for that, I would have waited and told her when I received official results.

            I was driving down Rodney Parham in Little Rock when I called her, and choking up I told her that I needed to talk to her and I needed to talk to her right then and could I come over.  I can’t remember if I had my twin sister pick up my youngest child from daycare or watch him, but I do know that he wasn’t present for this heartbreaking discussion.  I am almost certain he wasn’t present.

            I walked in and sat down on the love seat.  My mom was on the couch and my step-dad was in his recliner. I didn’t know of any other way to say it than to just say it.

            “Mom, I found a knot in my breast and I have to have a biopsy.”

            That’s when my vision blurred, tears came out, and the remaining conversation became foggy.

            My mother was devastated.  She too, knew that his day would likely come, but she didn’t know it would be THAT day.

            I had the biopsy and I told my doctor, who was the same one that performed the ultrasound, that I knew it was cancer so he needn’t be afraid to call me with the results.  My mom stayed with me for two days following the out-patient procedure and her presence provided more than physical help, she provided a calming comfort.  Yes, she's a true angel.

            Finally, on April 13, 2007, the phone call came.  The doctor said, “Well, I know this isn’t going to come as a surprise to you, but you have breast cancer.”  My mind was clear and I responded, “Well, what do we do next?”