On September 30, 2019, I earned the title of breast cancer survivor.
In early May, I was asked to come back to Hackensack Radiology for a redo of my annual mammogram. They saw something. They weren’t sure what it was, but they didn’t like it. And just like that, I was in an operating room having a needle biopsy.
I went on to have three more needle biopsies and pre-op procedures to place permanent markers that they gave cute names to like Top Hat (I felt like a cross between a pin cushion and a Monopoly board). Then, the day before surgery, I had a radioactive seed implanted with a radioactive injection to serve as a GPS for the surgeon. I wasn’t allowed to hold small children or dogs until it was removed. So that was interesting.
My first surgery (yup, not a misprint) went really well. Lumpectomy and removal of several lymph nodes. Recovery was much better than expected and by day two I was working from home. The biggest jaw dropper was that the mass wound up being more than twice the anticipated size, elevating me from Stage 1 to Stage 2 cancer. The second surgery two weeks later removed the “margins”. That’s where they go back in to remove tissue all around the excised mass to be certain there were no lingering cancer cells. That surgery was even easier to recover from and I went to the office the next morning. I’m not a martyr – I had no pain and it was boring to stay home. I also found RITTA to be so supportive that I looked forward to working.
The waiting for results was the worst of all. 5-7 days of watching the phone not ring. I then met with my oncologist to find out if I needed additional surgery and/or chemo. The results showed that the margins and lymph nodes were clear, so I was officially no longer a patient of the incomparable Dr. Deborah Capko – my rock star Sloan Kettering oncology surgeon. My FU to chemo was to have my hair colored and cut hours before meeting my oncologist. If I were going to lose my hair, it would not fall out with ugly roots. Fortunately, my Onco score indicated I was not a candidate for chemo.
On September 3rd, I began 4 weeks of daily radiation. The pre-radiation process was fascinating from a scientific perspective. I lay on an MRI table atop of a spongy material with my arms over my head. They then molded the material to my body and within 10 minutes it was a hardened cast. They then aimed 3 lasers to pinpoint my exact position and marked them with permanent tattoos, ensuring that they could focus the radiation with pinpoint accuracy so as to minimize damage to healthy tissue.
I was one of the lucky ones. I kept my breast, my hair and my sense of humor. Throughout the months of treatments and procedures I threw parties, traveled, played with my grandchildren and went to the office practically every single day.
To celebrate being cancer-free, my incredibly supportive husband took me to Paris. St. Chapelle is a tiny 13th century church completely made of stained glass that survived the bombings of Paris in WWII. When the sun shines, you feel like you’re inside of a kaleidoscope. There I stood amongst total strangers and for the very first time, openly wept. And just like that, I closed the book on a difficult chapter in my life.
So, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I am imploring every woman reading this blog to GET A MAMMOGRAM. And get your friends, sisters, mothers and daughters to get theirs. If you are a man reading this blog, implore every woman in your life who you cherish to GET A MAMMOGRAM. And don’t forget that men can get breast cancer too.
