Hi, my name is Michelle and I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in February of 2018.  I’ve always been a strong woman and I take care of everyone else –but even the strong get sick.  This is my story,

In January of 2018 I was watching TV with my family and our dog.   I was on the “big” sofa with the dog.  I happened to be sitting there because we both fit.  She’s 120lbs of fur and teeth but she’s my 120lbs of fur and teeth. I was eating Hummus and Bagel Chips, a new combination I had found, that we both loved.  While I was mindlessly munching and handing off treats, she nudged my right breast.  I assumed I had dropped some of the hummus and that she was after it.  So, I handed over another bagel chip with hummus, absentmindedly brushed the crumbs off of my breast and went back to watching TV.  She nudged my breast again.  I put the snacks away and lectured her about manners.  Dogs can have manners too.

Fast forward another week.  Same scenario, same result.  She nudged my breast.  This time a dark thought fluttered across my brain.  I’m not an idiot, and I watch a lot of Science programs.  Dogs can detect trouble in their “pack”.  I packed up the hummus and chips, stared her down and then walked to the kitchen and thought a lot of dark thoughts while I put things away.  It was a Wednesday night.

On Thursday morning, I got the courage up to perform a self-exam in the shower.  When was the last time I had actually done that?  I mean really done a self exam? I couldn’t remember. I found a lump.  I found a large lump.  My first thought was “how the hell did we miss that?”  I started crying so I didn’t really have a second thought. 

I exited the shower, toweled off and got myself dressed for work.  I wandered into the kitchen where my significant other, was having his coffee before he had to leave for work.  He saw the stress on my face and asked me what was wrong.  I immediately started an argument because I had no idea how to tell him I had a lump.  We had been through too much already.  I managed the words and we both left for work crying. I called my doctor as soon as her office opened.

My doctor got me in the next afternoon, on a Friday.  She confirmed that I had a 6cm lump in my right breast.  I tried not to cry again.  You can’t drive around crying all the time or you’ll wreck your car. My doctor immediately made me an appointment for the Imagining Center and tried not to lecture me about why I hadn’t had a mammogram lately.  I couldn’t get into the imaging center until Monday morning as they had no more openings that day. 

We were at the imaging center at 8:00 Monday morning.  I had a regular Mammogram, a diagnostic mammogram and a diagnostic Ultrasound.  They keep a doctor there for people like me and he told us we couldn’t leave until he reviewed the findings.  We waited in the waiting room and tried not to think about cancer.  He called us in and told us he didn’t like what he was seeing and that he wanted to do a biopsy.  We of course, agreed.  I was surprised, terrified and happy that it could be done the same day. I had the biopsy at 10:00 that same day.  We went home and waited for the results which were not due for a few days.  These things take time. I honestly, don’t remember the rest of that day because I walked around in a terrified haze

We went back to work the next day.  It was Valentine’s week, I was not thinking about candy and flowers. I was thinking about more mundane things like I love them all everyday and I just want to get through whatever is coming so that we can go back to being a regular family with normal problems and arguments. By Thursday I could take no more so I let my boss know I was leaving early to go bang on their door for the results.  He wished me well because he is a really good guy, told me to please be careful driving and to call him if I needed anything at all.  I thanked him quickly and bolted, because when you are struggling with a massive amount of stress kind words make you cry and I didn’t want him to see me leave in tears or he would not have let me drive.

I got the call from the doctor while I was driving north on Interstate 89 in Vermont headed back to New York where I live.  I pulled over and took the call.  The doctor could tell I was in my car and asked me to call him when I got home.  I said no!  I told him I was already pulled over, already sitting down, and knew that I would not be getting a call from the actual doctor if it wasn’t bad news so it wasn’t like I didn’t already have a suspicion. He said he did not normally allow this news to be delivered like this, made me promise not to wreck my car and even tried to get me to call someone to come get me so that I did not have to finish the drive.  He reluctantly confirmed for me that I had breast cancer.  Then he let me know he had already scheduled the appointment with a surgeon for the next day at 11:00 a.m.  I thanked him and hung up the phone.  I turned up the radio to drown out the white noise in my head, turned on my blinker, merged back into traffic and drove the speed limit home.  I wasn’t about to die in a car crash because then I would miss all the fun of going through Breast Cancer.

I emailed my boss that I was not going to be in the next day. I used a vacation day for that. My boyfriend of 5 years and I spent the rest of that night practicing saying “we have breast cancer” without crying.  It took us until 2 a.m. but we managed it and then finally fell into bed. 

We met with the surgeon the next day and scheduled a partial mastectomy and lymph node biopsy.  I had the surgery on February 21st 2018.

Recovery was hard. I won’t lie.  I used vacation time for that. My boyfriend was stellar.  He took great care of me and never left my side.  When the time came that I could finally take a shower, I couldn’t wait. He advised me to wait a little longer, but this girl wanted that shower.  I’m sure you know the feeling.  He relented but only if I followed his rules.  He came with me.  He undressed me.  He removed my bandages and tried not to openly cry in front of me when he saw the damage that had been done to “his” breast.  We laughed like couples do, through tears, all before he started the shower. Once in the shower, he held me up and washed my hair and conditioned it.  I had pretty long hair.  We made jokes about the savings we would have on shampoo alone.  He washed my entire body because I couldn’t and I have never been so moved and thankful for this particular man.  We forget men are emotional too because they are built to suppress. They are human, the same as anyone else and if you are lucky enough, one of them comes along who lets you in to see the real person.  I am that lucky. 

When I started to pass out, he held me up, turned off the shower and got a towel wrapped around me.  He then got me out of the shower and made me sit while he completely dried me off, dressed me in loose clothing and let me rest for a minute.  Then he walked me to the sofa and made sure I was comfortable while he got me the meds to stop the nausea and pain.  Our dog took it from there and never left my side while I lay on the sofa happy to be clean and wiped out from the shower itself. 

My mind was already reeling with the emotional roller coaster that is cancer and now I had seen the physical side of the surgery. I had a six inch scar under my right arm and that was just from the lymph node biopsy.  I had another one across the center of my breast where the surgeon had gone in for the actual tumor.  I looked like I just walked off the battle field, and I had, hadn’t I?  We joked about amazons and warriors.  I took a nap and I hoped that my caregiver was taking that time to relax, but I knew he wasn’t. Breast Cancer is emotionally hard on everyone involved.

Ten days later, we had the post op and I was officially diagnosed with Stage II HR Negative/RH Positive lobular carcinoma Breast Cancer. 

I was scared and confused and my mind had trouble wrapping itself around the diagnosis.  This couldn’t be happening to me.

About three weeks after my first chemo treatment my hair started to fall out.  It was gradual at first, hairs on the brush and hairs on the counter.  It escalated to hair in the food I was preparing for the family and hair in my hand whenever I ran my hand through my hair, which I had started to do a lot. One Thursday morning I woke up and when I brushed my hair there was so much hair on the brush I knew I was going bald.  It was expected, they prepare you for this in all the books and talks with the doctors.
No matter how much you read, no one is prepared for this.  So you take charge. 
You can decide to let it fall out or you can decide to shave your head and be done with this part of it.  I wanted to take charge because no one is that emotionally strong first thing in the morning.  I asked my boyfriend to shave my head. I also didn’t want the public process of going to a salon.  He said we could do it on Saturday.  He was stalling as well and I knew why. Saturday came and when he took the first swipe with the comb he started to cry.  I asked him what was wrong and he said he hadn’t been prepared for the amount of hair that had just fallen out of my head.  He had spent the days since I asked him to shave my head trying to believe that I was being overly emotional that week. I still had so much hair it was hard to tell I was going bald.  It only looked like thinning hair up to that point. 

He is a fisherman by hobby.  He’s been fishing and making his own lures since he was five years old.  It was the one thing he had with his father that didn’t involve any other than casting a line into the water while the sun came up and catching a fish in the quiet with your dad.  So he did what any good fisherman does and he saved my hair to make lures.  We laughed through the tears.  He promised to catch a nice trout for dinner and then he shaved my head. I put on a chemo head wrap that I had spent weeks agonizing over before buying because they are expensive. I felt ugly and inadequate. That’s all the time we gave cancer that day.

I can’t adequately explain the physiological duress cancer causes the patient and their family.  I can tell you that for me, I was terrified of the physical changes and the impact they would have on the relationships I had with the people around me. 

I woke up every day with a chorus of thoughts screaming through my head.

What do they think of me now that I’ve lost my hair? 
Would my boyfriend ever be able to touch me again?
My right breast is destroyed and it’s not funny.
Would he look at other women and wish just a little? I couldn’t blame him if he did.  He’s not dead yet.
What would I do if I lost my eyebrows?  How the hell was I supposed to put on eyebrows?  I can’t even draw a straight line.
I haven’t worn make-up in over 8 years, would I have to now?
I can’t wear a wig!  I hate wigs! 
I only own one bra because I can’t afford the bras to go through these changes. 
Why won’t my boob stay in place?
What are you looking at?
Why are you looking away?

My boyfriend never swayed.  He has been nothing but solid.
My family never swayed.  They have been there for me through it all.
All of my fears have been my own because that’s what cancer does to you; even when you are strong.

There is a financial side to cancer and all health care in America.  I’d like to talk about this next.  It is in fact why I am telling you this story.

We are swamped with medical bills we make payments on so we can keep the house running because you need to keep the house running.  I get to make payment arrangements on things I never thought I’d have to while I am struggling through massive emotional stress and physical catastrophic illness.  I get to tell a 12 year old we can’t go to the water park and movies or take a summer vacation this year like all of her friends but we can go fishing because her father owns a 1957 16ft steel hull fishing boat he bought over 15 years ago with a 30 year old motor he works on a lot to keep running.  She receives this news with the grace I haven’t seen in adults.  It breaks my heart. We can no longer afford the regular maintenance vet bill for the dog that saved my life.  We can’t afford the cat we let his daughter have when she moved in with us two years ago.  This is America.  This is crazy.  We have worked every single day we can through this nightmare that is Breast Cancer.  We shouldn’t have to say no to these basic things.  Not in this day and age today.  Not to a child.

So I am asking for help; the woman who can never seem to bring herself to ask.  I’ve been told by so many people that it’s okay to ask for help and that in and of itself is a sign of strength.  I guess I still have things to learn and one of them appears to be humility.  I need your help. My medical bills are now strangling us and we are out of vacation time.  There are no more paid days off, no more tricks in the big black magicians’ hat financially for me to pull out in the nick of time.  I haven’t even started radiation yet and that will be 25 sessions and then on to medication for the next ten years.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I wake up every day and I am grateful. I am grateful for the advancements in medical technology that will ultimately extend my life.  I am humbled by the love people have shown me, never really understanding the impact I had on their lives until this nightmare happened to us. I am grateful to have a job that allows me to telecommute through this battlefield of Breast Cancer. And I am positive we will beat this and laugh another day.  I insist on it.  Without it what’s the point? The strong don’t crumble, they live another day and then they live another, no matter what tomorrow has in store for us. I am positive that with your help tomorrow will be a good day and another will follow right after that.

Thank you for reading my story and any help you can give me.

 

Sincerely,

 

Michelle – cancer survivor because I will.