The dogs and I are just back from a walk with Crystal, my neighbor and triathlon training partner, and her 2-year old son, Ethan. Today has been one of those warm, golden, late August days that makes me wish that summer could go on forever. All three of us were tired, having not slept well last night for various reasons. Normally Crystal and I would be out for a bike ride or a swim but today we are just dragging around. The walk did us all good. I saw the giant mushroom at the end of our road that Crystal had been wanting me to see, she got a break from chasing Ethan around, and the dogs got some exercise. There seems to be an inverse relationship between the amount of exercise I get and the amount that they get. Since I have been doing a lot of training this summer there been a real decline in the canine fitness around here. Message to self: make sure Gus and Wendy get their daily workout too. Anyhow, all five of us were more energized by the end of the walk than we were starting out.
The time outdoors redeemed the day for me-at least somewhat. I was feeling frustrated and resentful of having spent the better part of the day, all morning really, on the task of having my remaining right breast evaluated (for the third time in nine months) at the Faulkner-Sagoff Breast Centre in Jamaica Plain, MA. It's about a 100 mile round trip from here but I've been willing to go there rather than someplace local because my oncologist has confidence in the quality of their imaging. After my adventures with the other breast I am all for getting the best imaging available. So, I spent half the morning chauffeuring my breast around and the other half of it having an ultrasound and having more mammogram films taken.
The radiologist's final verdict was that she “thinks” it's okay. I got the bright yellow form back with the “Normal/Negative-no evidence of cancer,” box checked. I did not find this result to be as reassuring as one might expect, although it was certainly better than being told that she thought there was a definite “problem area” warranting yet another level of evaluation. Still, I am a dubious recipient of so called "good news" since my former left breast was also deemed apparently free of disease even as the cancer it was harboring was making its merry way to six of the lymph nodes under my left arm.
So, as a person experienced with breast cancer and over well-acquainted with its idiosyncrasies, I know that the little checked box saying “no evidence of cancer,”means just that, no evidence of cancer. It doesn't mean you don't have it. This is particularly true in the case of lobular breast cancers like the one that invaded my former left breast, and which went undetected by two mammograms and two needle biopsies.
Because of the tendency of lobular breast cancer to evade early detection, I have been on a schedule of alternating mammogram/MRI every six months since finishing the initial treatment for the cancer in the other breast. I've been through the cycle only once, with an MRI in January and the first set of mammogram films in July, but I'm already tired of it. I was especially tired of it when I got the call back two weeks ago to come in for this follow-up ultrasound to check out an irregularity the radiologist had noted.
My reaction to getting the call (irritation, a “here we go again” feeling) drove home the truth of how I feel about hanging on to this breast (or rather it hanging on to me) and having to have it checked all the time. I don't want to. Period. My mind was made up even before the ultrasound results that I'm done with it. I've lost sight of the breast's good points or any redeeming qualities, and see only its liabilities as an inconvenience and potential hotbed for potentially fatal disease.
The decision to part company with my remaining breast is also driven by cosmetic considerations- basically that in my opinion one breast looks stupid by itself, even more stupid than no breasts look. The mastectomy side really looks okay, not just to me but even to others. This was an interesting surprise and also a relief. Having a breast cut off for the first time one tends to be a little bit nervous about how it is going to look and how one's appearance will be received. Anna, my daughter, upon seeing my new look said. "Hey, I want that!" Patty, my brother Jan's girlfriend, tipped her head to the side and said, thoughtfully, "You know, it really looks kind of exotic."
Excellent- I am not a victim, I am the the one-breasted goddess of Rawson Road.
