I could be a walking billboard for mammograms. During my regular OB-GYN visit in July 2000, I mentioned to the doctor that I had just turned 40 and it was time to start having regular mammograms. She agreed and told me to make an appointment at my leisure. I waited a couple of weeks to schedule the appointment; there was no urgency because my clinical breast exam was normal.
A week after the mammogram, I had a telephone message from the Breast Clinic. When I returned the call, I learned that additional mammograms were needed. I made an appointment and reluctantly made the trip to Winston again. During the visit, the technician showed me where micro-calcifications had formed on my left breast that were not there on the baseline mammogram I had three years earlier. According to the technician, this was probably okay. I should wait six months and come back for another mammogram. After all, nothing except the micro-calcifications showed on the mammogram and no lump could be felt.
The results of this visit were sent to my family doctor. He called me to come into the office, as he had a very different approach. He recommended that I see a surgeon because if there was any chance that it was cancer, I didn’t need to wait six months to find out.
I reluctantly made an appointment with a surgeon. I felt like I was wasting time and money. Surely, the Breast Clinic was right—it was nothing. Because the “lump” could not be palpated, my first stop on the day of the biopsy was the Breast Clinic. While my breast was in the mammogram machine, a doctor inserted a wire into my breast. The surgeon would use this wire as a guide. On October 16 I had a surgical biopsy and on October 20 I was told that I had ductal invasive carcinoma.
The next week I met with a medical oncologist and a radiation oncologist. I cried all the way home from Winston. I knew I was surely going to die—I wouldn’t make it until Christmas Eve. With my husband by my side, I can honestly say that I felt the most “alone” that I have ever felt.
The next week I had a lumpectomy and a sentinal node biopsy. I was very fortunate that the margins were clear, and I had no lymph node involvement.
The first week of November, I had a port-a-cath inserted and began the first of four chemotherapy treatments. This was the worst period of my life. I felt helpless and alone. I had support from family and friends, but I couldn’t resolve the desperation that I felt. I don’t think anyone is ever fully prepared for the side affects of chemotherapy. I wasn’t. I’ll never forget standing in the shower holding clumps of my hair that had fallen out exactly two weeks after the first chemo treatment. You can hide a bandaged breast, but it’s pretty hard to hide a baldhead. Wigs were hot and itchy, so I wore ball caps everywhere except church.
My last chemo treatment was in January 2001. I finally felt like I might make it through this. I started radiation treatments in February and finished up in April. I started almost every radiation treatment silently reciting Philippians 4:13. It was very tiring riding from Mount Airy to Winston every day for six weeks. Overall, radiation was much easier than the chemotherapy; I was fortunate and didn’t burn.
I spent many sleepless nights worrying and crying. I’m glad that part of my life is over. One of my best friends told me one time that, “What don’t kill you will make you stronger.” She was right—I’m much stronger. I’m still concerned about a recurrence, but I see the doctors regularly and try to eat healthy and exercise. For my mental health I attend support group meetings regularly and volunteer as an ambassador for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.
My advice to everyone is to enjoy life; you never know how long you have left, and to have faith. If God brings you to it, He will see you through it.
Susie Hooker, Surry County