Choose your own adventure: Ride off into the sunset or turn back to fight the dragon?

Hi Team,

A year ago today, I walked into the radiologist's office at Kaiser to get an ultrasound on a lump I had felt in my breast. I ended up first getting an ultrasound, then getting an uncomfortable twisty-face look (which I now recognize as the you've got cancer look) and a core needle biopsy all in the same appointment. I had walked in thinking I probably had some little cyst from changing my birth control. I very clearly remember after the ultrasound, weird look, and biopsy, then getting my first mammogram and being sat down in the radiologists office as she explained to me what she saw on my mammogram.

She said, I can't tell you for sure until I get the results of the biopsy back. But, based on my experience, all these little white dots we see around your lump area are called micro-calcifications and they are a telltale sign of something really bad. She wouldn't use the C word with me. So I said it, 'so you think it's cancer?' she said - well, yes based on my experience, I would guess that's highly likely. What we see here are the signs of cancer cells dying off. I don't have a for sure answer for you, but it's most likely the case and I want you to prepare yourself for that news.

I walked out of the office stunned and still believing she was wrong. I took a deep breath and repeated the words I had just heard, even though they hadn't really processed for myself yet, to my friend Monika, then to my Mom, then to my (now ex) boyfriend. I was numb.

It was not until the next morning, 4/2/2010, as I was in the SFO airport around 11am with a bloody mary and chicken sandwich, on my way to a weekend in Vegas with the (now ex) boyfriend for our 3 year anniversary, that I got the call. I remember trying to furiously take notes as she said words that sounded like a foreign language to me, but certainly were not good. She said, you've got cancer and not just in one spot, but it's invasive, meaning it's spread from it's original place. You'll have to come in for more scans over the next week so we can determine how far it's spread and what your next course of action will be. You will definitely have to do some sort of surgery. You will probably have to do chemotherapy. And you may also have to do radiation.

After I got off the phone, I just sat there. I pushed my sandwich away and pulled my bloody mary close to me, putting the the straw in my mouth, and downed it in between sobs. I let tears stream down my face right in the airport restaurant. I was totally oblivious to the outside world and felt scared and alone. I called my mom and boyfriend again and choked out the words again, and asked them to start telling people so I didn't have to tell everyone myself.

I left the restaurant and sat down with my computer and started typing out all my thoughts. I started two different files, entitled "My Fears" and "My questions" - the questions mostly were medical in nature and answered with a lot of research and asking questions to the doctors. The fears are a lot more complex. They mostly all came true. I had to tell everyone, I had to do chemo, I had to take time off work, I had to figure out a way to make it all work financially, my boyfriend did end up leaving me at the time I most needed him. There were a few that didn't come true, but in that one instant in time, I was terrified of it all, and for good reason. I still am terrified for that girl sitting in the SFO gate area, not knowing what comes next. Blissful ignorance swept out from under me like a dirty rug.

Over the last year, I've learned a lot about breast cancer, learned a lot about friendships and relationships. I've built an incredibly strong bond with my family and friends, and had some really fun evenings just sitting and talking, even though I felt shitty, those memories are incredibly close to my heart. I've done chemo, gotten past my fear of needles and blood, got my boobs cut off and gotten new ones. I've lost all my hair, but had it grow back, and lost a relationship, but gained an incredible new career and job. Karma is finally repaying a few of the debts from the past year, and I have an exciting fresh start. For a long time I found it hard to genuinely smile, and sometimes I still do. When you are constantly thinking about really hard stuff, and really tragic decisions, and it faces you in the mirror every day, it becomes really hard to joke around and be whimsical. Finally I have started having days that are only few and far between where I have to think about my survival or feeling or looking really shitty. I have started laughing again in a genuine way. It didn't feel natural at first, and maybe only over the last week or so has it started coming back more easily. But it's there, and knowing that is the first step in my having faith that it can become the norm again.

I'm going to end my story while we're on a happy ending. Because I like happy endings. And I know life has a way of cycling through extreme happiness and extreme sadness. And they both come back around. That may sound kind of morbid, but it depends on what kind of a person you are. As I look at the glass half full, I see it as realistic. Yes shitty stuff happens, and you know it will, and you have to face it head on and deal with it. But you also know that when it does happen, that means you're that much closer to the good stuff happening again. And while you're in the middle of the good stuff, just make sure you appreciate it, make sure the people you love know it, and be kind to other human beings because you don't know where they are in their cycle.

Love,

Amy