Dancing Around Cancer
I was diagnosed on February 14th, Valentine’s Day, but there was nothing romantic about the result. There was no doubt I had metastatic cancer in my breast. While the oncology surgeon discussed my potential treatment, the nurse had tears in her eyes.
I wondered was it worth putting my body through what amounted to fifteen months of cancer treatment followed by another 5 -10 years of cancer hormone prevention pills. Despite regular mammograms, I discovered too late, that mammograms do not pick up all breast cancer, particularly Lobular cancer, the second most common type. Mine had plenty of time to spread to my lymph nodes before I found the lump.
My doctor had assured me, a year earlier, there was nothing wrong with me. Of course, he never checked my lymph glands. My dog, on the other hand, had picked it up earlier when I noticed her odd behaviour–lying on top of me and licking my chest. But, I never thought my dog had better diagnostic skills than my Doctor. If only she could speak.
It was welcome to a whole new world and a new language: ductal, lobular, Deoxy Rubin, Paclitaxel, HERS 2, estrogen positive, metastatic, triple negative, triple positive. Triple positive. Yes, that’s me. Trust me to have an optimistic cancer!
A week later I was having surgery.
Saw you crying friend
Boudica’s shield is raised
Battle has begun