The MRI was of both breasts which meant that I had to lay on the table face down. Actually, I laughed out loud when the nurse told me to get on my knees and aim for the holes. Then she walked around adjusting the girls so that they were dangling properly (for those who are counting, that makes person #10 to get a good grope). I must have started to panic because I remember asking her if the top was open after the table was slid into the machine. She said I could open my eyes and look. I did; it was a bad idea. I closed them back up and put my face back on the face rest, then the world started to spin. I have no idea if this normal, but it was like going to bed after a long night of college-aged drinking. (The kind where you just want the world to stop spinning and your friends suggest that you sleep with a foot on the floor.) Then the noises started. The loud ones, like a jack hammer, that have no discernible pattern or rhythm that scare you so bad that you even forget the words to the Lord's Prayer (I had to think about the proper title as "Our Father" was about all I could make my brain say for the first few minutes). And then you worry about how/why you could ever forget that piece of comfort..... Gratefully, my "Hail Mary" skills kicked in and after what felt like a hundred recitations I was actually able to listen to the music that was pumped into the headphones.
When it was over, I was motion sick (or perhaps the proper term is really motion nauseous since I didn't puke). I felt like such a weakling/dork for having to sit in a chair and wait for it to pass. I even asked for a juice. When they had it right there in the cabinet I felt a little better, but not really. I was expecting some sort of feedback right then, but none came. "Your doctor can access the results anytime. The second door on the left is the locker room. Good luck to you." Where was my brain then? I should have had a question, something so that I knew what they saw.... That will be this weekend's research project.
Friday was my meeting with the oncologist, Dr. Oscar Signori. He was recommended by the surgeon, but she said that there were a few that she has worked with.... I also had an appointment with my family doctor, Dr. Wright, beforehand. My real reason for meeting with Dr. Wright was for my bi-monthly check on my meds, but I also wanted his opinion on oncologist. I did all the normal height, weight, why are you here stuff with the nurse and she says doc will be right in. The next person to walk in is not Dr. Wright but a new medical student. I have to admit, that I pull student doctors all the time and I am normally patient and allow them to practice and the doctor to do the finishing touches. But I usually go in for a med check or a cold or stupid little things, this is just a bit different. So I started answering the what are we seeing you for today question pretty openly. "I am really here to get my adderol refilled, but I was diagnosed with breast cancer on Monday and I want Dr.Wright's opinion before my 11:00 appointment with the oncologist. I'm all for being a guinea pig, I'm a teacher and I know it is important to learn, but this time I really do want to talk to Dr. Wright."
I wish I could get the right words to describe how big the student's eyes got. I'm going to let my imagination run for a moment, but it was almost a look of hey good looking whatchya doing after the show turning into a look of utter horror. His eye were almost unsettling on someone in the medical profession. As a teacher, it was hilarious. At first he was offended that I would think he was just using me as a guinea pig, but when I continued it was a look of, "oh crap she's right, I'm not quite ready for this level of questions. I have none of the answers she is looking for." Then the over achiever in him took over and he just wanted to check it out. Unfortunately for those who are hoping to put a number behind his story he only got to feel my armpits, where apparently a node feels enlarged. After a series of blood tests, a chest x-ray, and finally my script being refilled I was out of there.
(I totally have to add that I was semi-surprised with a message from Sean that he, Jake and my dad were having breakfast at IHOP and I should join them. Upon arrival I discovered exactly how many Friday mornings they have gone to IHOP; the waitress knew that my son like his chocolate milk with a side of whipped cream and doted on him like the regular that he apparently is. Sean and I left from IHOP for my oncology appointment and Papa Joe and Jake were off an adventure back to the new house.)
(OH----I neglected to add in that when I told Dr. Wright about the oncology appointment and the doctor I was going to see, he was less than enthusiastic. He expressed confidence in Dr. Signori, but also stated that he would prefer me at U of M. Which, I think, may be why the end of my Friday was full of uncertainty.)
My mom drove up from Toledo to be at the oncology appointment, and arrived frazzled from the drive (don't ya hate when the directions take you out of the way or you shouldn't have used the directions because you really did know how to get most of the way there without them) and stressed out to the max. So into the office the trio of trepidation walks ready for someone to pull out the magic wand and wave this nightmare away. (Ok, so we know it can't happen, but secretly I know we were all hoping for someone to jump out with the candid camera and tell us it was a huge joke.)
The appointment with Dr. Signori was ... slow. Thorough would be another good word. His nursing staff was kind and funny. When she brought me a water to take some medicine, she also brought Mom and Sean each their own, "I brought one for you too because I would get jealous if I were in your shoes." When the doc came in I hadn't finished my questionnaire, so he went through the questions with me slowly, asking follow up questions that were often not on the papers. He wrote my answers down with notes next to them. When he finished the questions, he began the physical exam. Somewhere in this process I had made the mistake of telling my mom I was cold. So while I proclaimed that I was fine (and really I was, I'm always cold, it was probably warmer than my classroom), the doctor took out two paper blankets and covered me up and began his exam (#11 to check the lady lumps). It felt like the longest exam yet. I just wanted to shout, "seriously, its a lump, its right there." It was maddening at the time, but in retrospect I can see that he is an expert, he wants to know the whole picture personally. When he finished, he said that I should get dressed and then he would meet us in the conference room.
That felt like the walk of shame. And I don't mean that in a bad way necessarily, but I want some of you to know what kind of a feeling I am talking about more personally. The conference room was outside the exam room area, across the waiting room. While there were very few people in the waiting room (probably 2 at the most), it was as though they were look at me saying, "We know that walk, we know what you are doing. Welcome to the C-club. Good luck."
In the conference room Dr. Signori explained that my cancer, invasive (or infiltrating) ductal carcinoma is the most common type of breast cancer. That the MRI doesn't show anything new, or rather nothing that we weren't already aware of, and the lymph nodes appear good. There is no cancer in the left breast and it is not touching the muscle (there is separation). The biopsy report shows that my cancer is estrogen receptor positive, progesterone receptor positive, and HER2-positive which means that I have some very good options for medications. AND all of this makes me a good candidate for breast preservation (a lumpectomy instead of mastectomy). BUT there are no guarantees in this game and nothing is set in stone.
He outlined several options for treatment, and a rough timeline of what to expect. My team of doctors plus several other specialists meet on Fridays to discuss new cases and confer on treatment. Dr. Signori said that I would be a definite topic of discussion next Friday. For now, he wants me to have a bone scan, an MRI of the brain, and a CT scan to be certain that this isn't anywhere else. We decided that we would like to attempt to shrink the tumor (and see if it will respond to the types of medications it should) to make surgery easier, so I will have my chemo port put in within the week.
I have to say that I walked away from that appointment unsettled. I have been blaming it on a lack of connection with the doctor and a gut feeling that it wasn't right. But after a weekend to let it digest and to reflect I think I am in good hands. I am still going to seek a second opinion, but I am not going to abandon the forward motion that is currently underway. As my Aunt Pat told me tonight, for the medical world, I am moving at light speed and everything is going according to what she would expect. That was enough to make me able to get some rest tonight.
Some of the links I checked out this weekend:
http://www.cancer.org/Cancer/BreastCancer/DetailedGuide/breast-cancer-treating-by-stage
http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/diagnosis/her2.jsp
http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/bone-scan
When it was over, I was motion sick (or perhaps the proper term is really motion nauseous since I didn't puke). I felt like such a weakling/dork for having to sit in a chair and wait for it to pass. I even asked for a juice. When they had it right there in the cabinet I felt a little better, but not really. I was expecting some sort of feedback right then, but none came. "Your doctor can access the results anytime. The second door on the left is the locker room. Good luck to you." Where was my brain then? I should have had a question, something so that I knew what they saw.... That will be this weekend's research project.
Friday was my meeting with the oncologist, Dr. Oscar Signori. He was recommended by the surgeon, but she said that there were a few that she has worked with.... I also had an appointment with my family doctor, Dr. Wright, beforehand. My real reason for meeting with Dr. Wright was for my bi-monthly check on my meds, but I also wanted his opinion on oncologist. I did all the normal height, weight, why are you here stuff with the nurse and she says doc will be right in. The next person to walk in is not Dr. Wright but a new medical student. I have to admit, that I pull student doctors all the time and I am normally patient and allow them to practice and the doctor to do the finishing touches. But I usually go in for a med check or a cold or stupid little things, this is just a bit different. So I started answering the what are we seeing you for today question pretty openly. "I am really here to get my adderol refilled, but I was diagnosed with breast cancer on Monday and I want Dr.Wright's opinion before my 11:00 appointment with the oncologist. I'm all for being a guinea pig, I'm a teacher and I know it is important to learn, but this time I really do want to talk to Dr. Wright."
I wish I could get the right words to describe how big the student's eyes got. I'm going to let my imagination run for a moment, but it was almost a look of hey good looking whatchya doing after the show turning into a look of utter horror. His eye were almost unsettling on someone in the medical profession. As a teacher, it was hilarious. At first he was offended that I would think he was just using me as a guinea pig, but when I continued it was a look of, "oh crap she's right, I'm not quite ready for this level of questions. I have none of the answers she is looking for." Then the over achiever in him took over and he just wanted to check it out. Unfortunately for those who are hoping to put a number behind his story he only got to feel my armpits, where apparently a node feels enlarged. After a series of blood tests, a chest x-ray, and finally my script being refilled I was out of there.
(I totally have to add that I was semi-surprised with a message from Sean that he, Jake and my dad were having breakfast at IHOP and I should join them. Upon arrival I discovered exactly how many Friday mornings they have gone to IHOP; the waitress knew that my son like his chocolate milk with a side of whipped cream and doted on him like the regular that he apparently is. Sean and I left from IHOP for my oncology appointment and Papa Joe and Jake were off an adventure back to the new house.)
(OH----I neglected to add in that when I told Dr. Wright about the oncology appointment and the doctor I was going to see, he was less than enthusiastic. He expressed confidence in Dr. Signori, but also stated that he would prefer me at U of M. Which, I think, may be why the end of my Friday was full of uncertainty.)
My mom drove up from Toledo to be at the oncology appointment, and arrived frazzled from the drive (don't ya hate when the directions take you out of the way or you shouldn't have used the directions because you really did know how to get most of the way there without them) and stressed out to the max. So into the office the trio of trepidation walks ready for someone to pull out the magic wand and wave this nightmare away. (Ok, so we know it can't happen, but secretly I know we were all hoping for someone to jump out with the candid camera and tell us it was a huge joke.)
The appointment with Dr. Signori was ... slow. Thorough would be another good word. His nursing staff was kind and funny. When she brought me a water to take some medicine, she also brought Mom and Sean each their own, "I brought one for you too because I would get jealous if I were in your shoes." When the doc came in I hadn't finished my questionnaire, so he went through the questions with me slowly, asking follow up questions that were often not on the papers. He wrote my answers down with notes next to them. When he finished the questions, he began the physical exam. Somewhere in this process I had made the mistake of telling my mom I was cold. So while I proclaimed that I was fine (and really I was, I'm always cold, it was probably warmer than my classroom), the doctor took out two paper blankets and covered me up and began his exam (#11 to check the lady lumps). It felt like the longest exam yet. I just wanted to shout, "seriously, its a lump, its right there." It was maddening at the time, but in retrospect I can see that he is an expert, he wants to know the whole picture personally. When he finished, he said that I should get dressed and then he would meet us in the conference room.
That felt like the walk of shame. And I don't mean that in a bad way necessarily, but I want some of you to know what kind of a feeling I am talking about more personally. The conference room was outside the exam room area, across the waiting room. While there were very few people in the waiting room (probably 2 at the most), it was as though they were look at me saying, "We know that walk, we know what you are doing. Welcome to the C-club. Good luck."
In the conference room Dr. Signori explained that my cancer, invasive (or infiltrating) ductal carcinoma is the most common type of breast cancer. That the MRI doesn't show anything new, or rather nothing that we weren't already aware of, and the lymph nodes appear good. There is no cancer in the left breast and it is not touching the muscle (there is separation). The biopsy report shows that my cancer is estrogen receptor positive, progesterone receptor positive, and HER2-positive which means that I have some very good options for medications. AND all of this makes me a good candidate for breast preservation (a lumpectomy instead of mastectomy). BUT there are no guarantees in this game and nothing is set in stone.
He outlined several options for treatment, and a rough timeline of what to expect. My team of doctors plus several other specialists meet on Fridays to discuss new cases and confer on treatment. Dr. Signori said that I would be a definite topic of discussion next Friday. For now, he wants me to have a bone scan, an MRI of the brain, and a CT scan to be certain that this isn't anywhere else. We decided that we would like to attempt to shrink the tumor (and see if it will respond to the types of medications it should) to make surgery easier, so I will have my chemo port put in within the week.
I have to say that I walked away from that appointment unsettled. I have been blaming it on a lack of connection with the doctor and a gut feeling that it wasn't right. But after a weekend to let it digest and to reflect I think I am in good hands. I am still going to seek a second opinion, but I am not going to abandon the forward motion that is currently underway. As my Aunt Pat told me tonight, for the medical world, I am moving at light speed and everything is going according to what she would expect. That was enough to make me able to get some rest tonight.
Some of the links I checked out this weekend:
http://www.cancer.org/Cancer/BreastCancer/DetailedGuide/breast-cancer-treating-by-stage
http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/diagnosis/her2.jsp
http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/bone-scan
You are in my thoughts and prayers. Laurie emailed me to let me know what is going on. I should be on facebook more but I am not so I just found your blog. Hugs from not that far away.
ReplyDeleteJulie
(P.S. I am going back to my maiden name but it is me all the same.)