I never thought that I would get a phone call from my mom announcing that she had cancer. Breast cancer to be exact.
She seemed so calm but calm was definitely the last thing I was feeling. I'm sure being pregnant played a major role in my display of emotions. Each emotion seemed to roll right into the next...fear, overwhelming sadness, anger, uncontrollable crying. It was a never ending cycle. Dreams of losing my mother and her never meeting the precious baby growing inside me, invaded my sleep. Often times I would lay awake in bed hoping and praying that she wouldn't leave me. I wasn't ready for that yet, I still needed her here.
It all started when we found out my mom's older sister Donna had breast cancer. It was invasive and fast moving. They started chemo treatments and gradually she lost all of her hair. Finally a double mastectomy was decided as the proper course of treatment and she struggled her way through recovery and the very long process of healing. For her the battle would not be over since it takes several surgeries to complete the reconstruction. She would also have to continue with radiation. She is still trying her hardest to recover from her mastectomy {a month later} because of the chemo treatment.
Breast cancer runs deep in my family. My Grandmother (my mom's mom) is one of 5 girls and is the only one to never have had breast cancer. Her sister Arden passed away a while ago from breast cancer as did my mother's cousin Susan (she was only 32 and left three small children behind). My Grandfather (my mom's dad) had prostate cancer which is made up of the same genes as breast cancer. So my mother and her ten siblings had a double chance of contracting the cancer themselves. But even with that family history you still never think it will happen to you or someone you love so dearly.
My Aunt Donna was the first to be diagnosed with breast cancer and my Uncle Steve also was found to have prostate cancer. A few years ago, when we lived in Georgia, the doctors were watching a few "trouble spots" in my mothers breasts. They weren't considered cancerous at the time but she set up an appointment for a mammogram in March, shortly after my Aunt's diagnosis {just in case}. Again, those trouble spots were considered to just be cysts and were "nothing to worry about". But shortly after that exam her breast became inflamed and she was leaking blood and puss. Several doctor's appointments later, after nothing was being done to help her with the pain, she insisted on having surgery to remove the cysts. Her surgeon was skeptical and kept insisting that the surgery was unnecessary, but my mother stuck to her gut feeling and refused to take no for an answer. In May she went in for surgery and directly after the surgery her biopsies were sent off to pathology. Her pathology report was sent to several specialists all of which declared that the sample was inconclusive. Eventually her pathology report was presented in front of a board of specialists in New York. Half agreed that it was cancer, the other half concluded that it was not. Frustrated and confused, my mom met with an oncologist in Utah who said that he agreed it WAS cancer but it was found so early that there was nothing they could do until it GREW. Uhmm, WHAT?!
My Aunt Donna was the first to be diagnosed with breast cancer and my Uncle Steve also was found to have prostate cancer. A few years ago, when we lived in Georgia, the doctors were watching a few "trouble spots" in my mothers breasts. They weren't considered cancerous at the time but she set up an appointment for a mammogram in March, shortly after my Aunt's diagnosis {just in case}. Again, those trouble spots were considered to just be cysts and were "nothing to worry about". But shortly after that exam her breast became inflamed and she was leaking blood and puss. Several doctor's appointments later, after nothing was being done to help her with the pain, she insisted on having surgery to remove the cysts. Her surgeon was skeptical and kept insisting that the surgery was unnecessary, but my mother stuck to her gut feeling and refused to take no for an answer. In May she went in for surgery and directly after the surgery her biopsies were sent off to pathology. Her pathology report was sent to several specialists all of which declared that the sample was inconclusive. Eventually her pathology report was presented in front of a board of specialists in New York. Half agreed that it was cancer, the other half concluded that it was not. Frustrated and confused, my mom met with an oncologist in Utah who said that he agreed it WAS cancer but it was found so early that there was nothing they could do until it GREW. Uhmm, WHAT?!
I practically froze when she told me that on the phone. They want her to wait until it GROWS? Are they crazy? It didn't sit well with me and it didn't sit well with her either. It was at this time that the pathology report came back from my Aunt Donna's mastectomy. It was brought to our attention that the doctor's originally only wanted to remove the left breast since the right breast was found to be cancer free through the use of ultrasounds, mammograms, and MRI's. My Aunt insisted on having both removed. Her only reason was that she {felt very strongly} that both needed to be removed. They studied her right breast and found a very large tumor that they couldn't detect on any of the tests. Removing both breasts literally saved her life. Now that we knew it could be potentially unidentifiable to tests we sought out a different oncologist, this time someone within the Rexburg area.
To say that he was amazing and an answer to our prayers, would be an understatement. In one visit, he calmed all of her fears and agreed 100% that waiting was not the answer. His plan of action? A double mastectomy and full hysterectomy, with reconstruction options for her breasts. He studied her charts, reports, and family history. He wanted to know everything and anything about this certain strain of cancer. His findings were both overwhelming and comforting.
He believed that the certain strain of genes within our family line, mutates from generation to generation, increasingly getting worse. The type of cancer that both my Aunt and mom had was fast moving and aggressive, chemo resistant, estrogen positive (meaning it feeds off of estrogen), and does not show up in mammograms and MRI"s until it is super invasive or too late (My mom's cousin Susan was a "too late" case. She passed away two weeks after finding out she had cancer.). He explained that if she hadn't insisted on removing and testing those cysts they probably never would have found it until there was nothing to be done. He was shocked that an oncologist would just tell her to wait until it grew, especially since they caught it so early she wouldn't need chemo and would only need surgery to avoid invasive cancer, He wanted a full hysterectomy performed in order to avoid the cancer moving to her ovaries (because the cancer feeds on any and all estrogen, all estrogen needed to be removed), all together avoiding another deadly form of cancer.
The new information brought a sort of peace to my mind. It felt right. At least we could take some sort of action. The doctor wanted each surgery done as soon as possible. He said within a week or two. Understandably, my mother was overwhelmed and a little anxious, but peaceful at the same time. She was beyond grateful that someone was taking her seriously for once, and that he was not afraid to take action. Her doctor set up several appointments with surgeons he highly recommended. One of them happened to be from our old ward in Georgia (he had been a great friend of my dad's before the whole divorce so we knew him well). He would be performing the hysterectomy and it helped ease her mind that someone she knew would in there with her. Weeks passed as her general surgeon and plastic surgeon prepared for her double mastectomy and worked out a date that they could both do the surgery.
They finally settled on July 11th. It was hard to believe that within a 6 week period so many things could change. The whole process felt like a whirlwind of activity. I was nearing closer and closer to my 30 week mark in my pregnancy and the more pregnant I became, the more anxious I felt about her surgery. I knew she needed the surgery, but the fear of somehow losing her during surgery or them finding more cancer than originally anticipated clouded my mind. My thoughts were jumbled, chaotic, anxious, and I wasn't able to center myself. The only comfort I could find was spending time with her. I spent every spare minute helping her prepare her home and herself for this life altering event. I was grateful for the countless times I got her all to myself, as we cleaned her house or drove to Idaho Falls to run errands. She felt like she was a burden during those times but I don't really think she knew or understood just how much I needed that time with her. If anything it lightened my load. I needed to hear her laugh and joke with me. I needed to know that everything was going to be ok.
He believed that the certain strain of genes within our family line, mutates from generation to generation, increasingly getting worse. The type of cancer that both my Aunt and mom had was fast moving and aggressive, chemo resistant, estrogen positive (meaning it feeds off of estrogen), and does not show up in mammograms and MRI"s until it is super invasive or too late (My mom's cousin Susan was a "too late" case. She passed away two weeks after finding out she had cancer.). He explained that if she hadn't insisted on removing and testing those cysts they probably never would have found it until there was nothing to be done. He was shocked that an oncologist would just tell her to wait until it grew, especially since they caught it so early she wouldn't need chemo and would only need surgery to avoid invasive cancer, He wanted a full hysterectomy performed in order to avoid the cancer moving to her ovaries (because the cancer feeds on any and all estrogen, all estrogen needed to be removed), all together avoiding another deadly form of cancer.
The new information brought a sort of peace to my mind. It felt right. At least we could take some sort of action. The doctor wanted each surgery done as soon as possible. He said within a week or two. Understandably, my mother was overwhelmed and a little anxious, but peaceful at the same time. She was beyond grateful that someone was taking her seriously for once, and that he was not afraid to take action. Her doctor set up several appointments with surgeons he highly recommended. One of them happened to be from our old ward in Georgia (he had been a great friend of my dad's before the whole divorce so we knew him well). He would be performing the hysterectomy and it helped ease her mind that someone she knew would in there with her. Weeks passed as her general surgeon and plastic surgeon prepared for her double mastectomy and worked out a date that they could both do the surgery.
They finally settled on July 11th. It was hard to believe that within a 6 week period so many things could change. The whole process felt like a whirlwind of activity. I was nearing closer and closer to my 30 week mark in my pregnancy and the more pregnant I became, the more anxious I felt about her surgery. I knew she needed the surgery, but the fear of somehow losing her during surgery or them finding more cancer than originally anticipated clouded my mind. My thoughts were jumbled, chaotic, anxious, and I wasn't able to center myself. The only comfort I could find was spending time with her. I spent every spare minute helping her prepare her home and herself for this life altering event. I was grateful for the countless times I got her all to myself, as we cleaned her house or drove to Idaho Falls to run errands. She felt like she was a burden during those times but I don't really think she knew or understood just how much I needed that time with her. If anything it lightened my load. I needed to hear her laugh and joke with me. I needed to know that everything was going to be ok.
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