January 31, 2020: another 6-month check-up with my surgeon and overall it was a good visit. She said my incision has healed so well and I couldn’t agree more. She really did such an amazing job with my surgery. The residual pain and stiffness has been slowly going away, making the procedure seem like such a distant memory. 

I was a bit anxious about seeing my doctor during this visit, not because of the check-up or the exam but because of a scare I had a few months back. I didn’t share this with a lot of people. I was too afraid at the time and I couldn’t bare putting my loved ones through the worry and fear that I was experiencing. 

But I feel ready now. Ready to share that whole ordeal and the realities of being a “survivor”.  

October 2019 was a very difficult month for me. It was time for my follow-up MRI (Because I have dense breasts, the radiologist recommended I also get an MRI for better imaging.)  After having such a successful scan 6 months prior, I was ready for this. I didn’t think much about it, I treated it like any other doctor’s appointment and went in thinking, I got this!

Maybe I was too cavalier. Maybe I should have been more fearful. Or maybe I should have prepared myself more for what could be.

Once again, I received the results while I was at work. Sigh. My oncologist explained that they found a 1cm area of “enhancement” and they wanted a diagnostic ultrasound for a second look.  I broke down. The tears started streaming down my cheeks and it couldn’t stop. How could this be happening again? And so soon. I found some comfort with my work-family but it was just too damn painful to get the words, any words, out. 

All I could think about was how much I didn’t want to go through this again – all the treatments, the pain, the fear. How could my body be doing this to me again? 

Breathe…

I went in for the ultrasound a couple days later. I can’t even begin to talk about the drama I had trying to schedule this appointment… the first available appointment was one month from then; got a call about a last minute cancellation but with LA traffic, I didn’t make it on-time, then I got yelled at by a tech about the appointment; I cried more.. It was a fricken mess. Luckily my surgeon’s office helped to get me an appointment the following day (they are angels). 

The ultrasound went as usual. The radiologist was able to look at my images while I was there (which, I have to admit, was the best part of this experience. I can’t imagine having to wait AGAIN for those results). The images were inconclusive – they did not see anything BUT she recommended that I biopsy the area as a precaution. OMFG. No. Noooo. No!  At this point, I was extremely exhausted from all the appointments, mishaps, back-and-forth emails, the tears – it was emotionally draining. I immediately emailed my oncologist to ask if this was absolutely necessary.  They didn’t see anything, why did I need to get a biopsy? 

My doc let me know that the area was of low suspicion – in general, these findings have a 2-10% chance of being cancer. But I should get it done. 

Timing is EVERYTHING. I had other things going on at the time that really made me question going through this procedure. I was ready to move on from this, from my cancer life, but somehow it kept pulling me back. It was almost comical. 

The biopsy, to be exact: the MRI-guided biopsy (a new one for me!), was interesting. I had my bestest with me and I felt like I was in such a haze. Probably still in denial.  I was nervous, of course, but I just wanted it to be over with. I wanted to know what THIS was. I didn’t quite understand how a MRI could guide a biopsy but it went by fairly quickly.  And I was told after that I must have a high tolerance for pain because I barely moved an inch during the entire procedure. Honestly, it was nerves and fear that kept me still. 

The procedure started like a normal breast MRI with contrast, then they placed a grid down to help locate the area more precisely. There were a lot of in-and-outs with the MRI machine, they then numbed the area and began pulling the tissue samples. Instead of the stapler sound I experienced with the other biopsy, this one made a faint whirring/vacuum sound. Yikes. I couldn’t feel anything though, so no problems there, however, when I rolled over, I noticed my blood on the floor (gravity) and all over the grid… so I knew things got done. They patched me up, took another mammogram to be sure the little tag was in place and gave me ice packets for the ride home. 

To my surprise, I received the results just a few days later:

I cried again. But this time, it was happy tears. I immediately texted the few people that I had initially told and they were just ecstatic and relieved. I sometimes forget how important it is to have that support in my life. Although I hesitate to share things with my family and friends, when I do, it really does help to know that I have people in my life that genuinely care. And I love them more than I can ever say or express. 

To be quite honest, this still hurts to talk about (I teared up a little and needed to step away for a minute while I was writing this) but as I continue to be honest with myself, I know I can grow from this experience. I didn’t think my post-treatment life would be so complicated, with just as much worry as my treatment life. But I am still learning. And I’m so grateful to be here. 
XO