My journey through breast cancer. It was March, 1994, and I was scheduled for a mammogram. But on that same day, I took the morning off to take my daughter to the airport as she was going to Florida. After dropping her off, I decided that I was not going to go to work, but I realized I had left the referral for the mammogram at work. I decided to go and that decision saved my life. Had I not gone, I would have stalled the appointment for a long time. I was already two years without having had a screening. At the end of the day, I met my fiance, now husband and we went together. I went in for the screening and I waited, and waited, and waited. I knew something was wrong. Usually the technician returns immediately and says everything is okay and you can go home. After what seemed like forever, she came back and told me the pictures did not come out clearly. I said what did you see and she didn't reply. After a few more minutes, she came back and said I needed a sonogram, which would confirm what the mammogram showed, I had a growth of two centimeters. I needed to see my doctor immediately. I was shaking, I couldn't believe my ears, my worst fears had come true, I was another statistic, I was one out of nine. When my fiance saw me he knew immediately that there was something wrong. We went immediately to my doctor who is a surgeon and told him what happened. The next morning I got the x-rays and went back to the surgeon. I spoke with many doctors. I was eventually referred to Joan Mettering. All of this was so overwhelming and just the name Joan Mettering sent me into a spin. I spoke to my doctor, he described to me what would happen. I would have the surgery (lumpectomy) and they would do a frozen section to see if it was malignant, which of course it was and they did lymph node dissection. Call me lucky, no spread of cancer to the lymph glands and since the tumor was estrogen positive, I could go on tamoxifen. After the surgery, I was home the next day, My daughter knew nothing of any of it, until she came home from Florida. She saw me in bed and asked what was wrong, I told her and she asked if I was going to die. I said absolutely not and kept my word. I went on to receive seven weeks of radiation, which to me was nothing except it made me tired. Then the decision on whether to have chemo or not. Half said yes, and half said no, and I was at the borderline age of 49, turning fifty, when it wasn't necessary. My doctor said if it was his wife, he would have her do it. That settled it for me. I went for chemotherapy for six months. And although it was not a picnic and I wouldn't want to do it again, I never threw up, I didn't lose my hair and I got fat. Every time I gained a pound the oncologist and his staff would do a dance. They did thirty five dances since I gained thirty five pounds. There were new med's on the market and I was on zofran for sickness. Except for extreme exhaustion and looking like a blown up doll, I managed to get through with that period of my life. I used to be a great anticipator and a hypochondriac, always thinking I had cancer, and one day I did for real. I no longer anticipate what will be, until it actually is. March 31st, I celebrated my eighth year of survival and I have learned and grown so much since that experience. I know I am a kinder and better person. I am more caring about other people. There was a benefit to it. I was working full time and I had one day in after my ten year vestment and I was able to get out on a disability pension. I no longer say old shucks its another Monday morning or TGIF , because every day is TGIF. I woke up and smelled the coffee and now I live my life to the fullest and do whatever I can to enjoy it. I treasure those things that are important in my life, my family, my friends and my loved ones. I hope I can give back to others what they have given to me. Thank you for reading this saga, one part of a life.
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