Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Lexie

The next story comes from Lexie, who you can learn more about at Lexie's Breast Cancer.


Age and diagnosis

39

Left Breast - Infiltrating Poorly Differentiated Duct Cell Carcinoma
                    Stage IIIc, ER+/PR-, HER2-
                    Histologic Grade 3/3, Nuclear Grade 3/3, Mitotic Grade 2/3


Family history or BRCA mutation?

Yes I have BRCA 2.

[Lexie's blog states that her mother and grandmother passed away from ovarian cancer.]


Who caught it?

My husband.

[Here is more from Lexie's blog]

This was June 2012 the doctor also gave me my prescription for the mammogram to have it done by August. Since we were moving and breast cancer was the last thing on my mind I pushed it off. One day in September [her husband] touched me and felt the lump. For some reason I knew right away it was cancer. So when I went for the mammogram I told the tech. When I went back for the ultrasound you could tell by the look on their face even if they did try to hide it. 
I am glad I did not wait for my doctor to call me and I took matters into my own hands. I got the whole process started much earlier then if I would have waited and the outcome might have been different. But right now I am happy but scared I am worried that when all said and done this will come back and I won't be around to watch [her son] get older and married.

What were the signs?

Just a lump.


Did your doctors listen to you?

No not in the beginning.  I was very proactive and switched surgeons and oncologists,


What would you say to a young woman who thinks she might have something wrong?

Listen to your gut.  You know what is going on with your body.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Kate


I was introduced to Kate through a mutual friend who wanted me to meet a friend of hers who had children after her breast cancer diagnosis.  I was feeling pretty awful about my fertility, or lack thereof, and hearing Kate's story helped me in so many ways.   Kate is one of the nicest women I have "met" (since we're online buddies), and it's amazing to know that out of something so terrible, like breast cancer, friendships like these can arise. 


Here is Kate's story:


Age and Diagnosis

I was 27 when I was diagnosed, 32 now. I was diagnosed with Stage 2A, slightly Her2N+ (basically triple negative) ductal carcinoma with medullary features. There was no lymph node involvement. My tumor was a nasty one, Grade 3, 2.7 centimeters with a high proliferation index.


Family history or BRAC?

There has been plenty of cancer in my family, but no breast cancer. Both my dad's parents died of cancer in the years leading up to my diagnosis (Grandfather had prostate and bladder cancer, Grandmother had a rare type of sarcoma that metastasized to her lungs), and my dad had received treatment for a melanoma. Since my diagnosis, my dad's younger brother was diagnosed with prostate cancer at a young age.

My BRAC test came back negative, for what that's worth.



Who caught it?

I found my tumor. It was bizarre. One day everything is normal, and the next I had this mass the size of a ping-pong ball sticking out of my chest. It was visible and high enough on my chest to see it in a modest v-neck. My husband and I were house sitting, and one night I noticed it as I was getting ready for bed. Wes thought I should take it seriously, so I showed up at my GP's office the next morning first thing without an appointment.



What were the signs?

The scary thing was there weren't many signs leading up to my diagnosis. I felt great, didn't have any issues with my breasts. In retrospect, I realize I was coming out of a seriously stressful time in my life and that I might have missed signs. I am lucky my tumor was so obvious, because I would have missed a more subtle one.




Did your doctors listen to you?

I have the most amazing general practitioner ever. She has treated me since I was a teenager, as well as treating many of my female relatives. She was even invited to my wedding! She did listen to me, as she has done every time I've gone to see her. She wanted me to have an ultrasound done just in case, though she thought it was probably nothing. I had an ultrasound that afternoon, and Dr. T called me that evening. The results were unclear, so they thought I should have a biopsy done. She recommended a breast surgeon ("He's who I would see if I needed a breast mass biopsied.") and got me in to see him the next day. I was not the first young woman that my breast surgeon had seen with breast cancer. He was reassuring during the biopsy, but did not treat me as if I was wasting his time or that my lump did not need to be addressed. As it turns out, it was cancer. I realize how unusual my situation was, and also how lucky I was to get diagnosed so quickly.



What would you say to a young woman who might have something wrong?

I would say be proactive and don't procrastinate in getting it checked out. If it is cancer, it will not get better by ignoring it or fitting it in after the other things you have going on.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Open letter to SimplePickup2:

Dear Douchebros,

I just watched your video where you put these "haters" on blast, saying because of them, breast cancer research just lost out on $7,000.  I can't speak for all the other haters, but on behalf of this hater, GOOD.



When I heard that the foundation refunded your money and asked you to STOP using their name in any videos, I felt happy.  I might have even giggled in glee.  You say in your video that this foundation was pressured by a small minority of haters who were offended.  To that, I say it wasn't a small group of people who were offended by what you did, you self-entitled douchebags.  Fuck you, and anyone who looks like your smug douche faces. 

I've been through a lot because of breast cancer: three surgeries, seven weeks of radiation, four and a half months of chemotherapy, and countless hours of therapy.  On top of that, my mom died of metastatic breast cancer.  When I heard that dudes were motorboating to raise money for breast cancer research, I wanted to nutpunch every single one of you.  For testicular cancer awareness, of course.

What you did was offensive and crossed the line so far, I don't think you can see that line anymore.  It's another state to you.   Why is it offensive, a douchebag might ask?

Using the guise of breast cancer awareness to give you pass to motorboat a pair of breasts you otherwise had no chance of touching, it's trivializing and sexualizing a disease that's deadly and disfiguring.  My mom = dead.  Me = no breasts.  You think someone like me is going to hear about your pranks and go, "Oh, it's cool that they're motorboating chicks because breast cancer awareness."  Hell no.  I mean, unless you want to motorboat my reconstructed chest, the same chest that doesn't have any nipples?  Oh shucks, the implants that my doctors spent months stretching out my skin to put into my body DO NOT MOVE.  You can try to motorboat Barbie and Skipper, but you're going to be hitting your face on hard, stationary fake tits.  But you don't want to motorboat my chest or any other chests that look like mine.  You want nice, perky, disease-free breasts to put your cheap cologne-splattered face in between because that's how playas roll, right?  

The reality of breast cancer, which is beautifully illustrated in a video (below) made by a group of survivors, would be too horrifying to get your attention.


Don't use the disease that took my mother's life and could very well take mine as an excuse to touch boobs, bros.  It's gross and unbecoming.  You say you wanted to help a worthy cause, but those who would benefit from your so-called help, like all of us affected by breast cancer, shouldn't have to give up our dignity just for the sake of awareness.  Proclaiming "awareness" and then behaving inappropriately, doesn't mean you're excused from any criticism.  This disease is deadly and it isn't a joke, and your actions made this horrifying disease a joke.


If being offended by the pranks you pulled makes me a hater, then I'm the biggest hater you'll encounter.  If you really want to help women, why don't you take the money you raised and donate it to a women's shelter or RAINN?   

Lastly, kiss my mastectomy scars.

Sincerely,

Lara

Me before getting my skin stretched out.

Webwriter


The next story comes from a friend of Michele's - Wendy, aka Webwriter:

 


Age and diagnosis

I was 40 years old when I was diagnosed with Stage 2, Grade 3, IDC

 
Family history or BRCA mutation?

I had zero family history and tested negative for BRCA.
 

Who caught it?

My very first “baseline” mammogram caught it. I was FINALLY going to schedule the hysterectomy I had been begging for when my new GYN realized I’d had a birthday. So, and I’ll never forget the words, he said, “You’re 40! Congratulations! It’s your lucky year. We’ll schedule the surgery right after we get this baseline mammogram out of the way.”

 

What were the signs?

I knew I had a lump. I’d known it for a long time. But in my twenties, on the other side, I had pretty much the same lump in the same location, sitting high up, right over the top of a knot of muscle. My GYN back then laughed at me. He was sure it was related to child birth and then described a needle aspiration in such grisly detail, that I, as he intended, took his word for it and let it go. Twenty years later I was again, the mother of a young child. My OBGYN hadn’t said anything about this lump, despite all of my very regular checkups. It was painful sometimes. Sometimes shooting, stabbing sharp pains.  Sometimes it ached like a sore muscle. So, it fit, just like last time. Knowing I was “still too young,” I let it go again. I shouldn’t have.

I also suffered uncharacteristic depression, fatigue, joint pain, and a general moodiness from the birth of my daughter until chemo-pause. I was unable to produce enough milk to properly breast feed her, despite a massive intake of Fenugreek, a script from my OB for Reglan, and a hospital grade breast pump used like clockwork. I was diagnosed with PPD, and placed on many different kinds of meds to fight it.  Nothing worked. I kept telling my husband, “I just feel hormonal. Something has got to be off.”

 
Did your doctors listen to you?

No. Despite hormone testing which showed pretty normal for my age, if high in testosterone, I was convinced I was in peri-menopause. I was sent to counseling and placed on every anti-depressant in the book. Finally, I demanded birth control. (Not recommended for smokers over 35) It helped, A LOT. No one who knew me doubted something was hormonally wrong after that- except my doctor. I changed GYN’s twice. The third agreed to the hysterectomy, in lieu of continued hormones, and sent me for the baseline. (After a breast exam by each of them that did not find the lump either.)
 

What would you say to a young woman who thinks she might have something wrong?
 
Listen, listen, listen to your body. It knows when something is not right. Do not doubt yourself. You CAN trust you. Do NOT be intimidated by the white lab coat either. These guys are working from experience and averages. They don’t know YOU, not the way you do. If you feel in your heart that something is wrong, don’t stop until the answer you get feels right.

After examining my Grade 3, highly hormone positive tumor, which had, by then, invaded my lymph nodes, my surgeon approximated its growth and age at three years- without knowing the history I just gave you. My daughter turned three during chemo.  Had I listened to my body, had I insisted with my doctor, there is every reason to believe we’d have caught this at Stage I. You are wiser than you know. Listen to you. It is much easier to say, “Silly me, how embarrassing.” than it is to say, “Oh My God, I could’ve stopped this in its tracks.”

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Frances

After I asked a group of young adults with cancer for their story, Frances was one of the first people to reach out to me.  This is her story.

------------

I was 32 when I got diagnosed. I had noticed a lump about a year before dx but with hectic life and not imagining it, the observation was dismissed. A year earlier also I was with a lover who noticed a milky discharge coming from my nipple, but that only happened a couple times, and again, dismissed. I was feeling exhausted the months leading up to my diagnosis and the final straw came after having to leave a party one night because of shooting lower back pain and dizziness.  I went to a gynecologist who told me I was fine, and never did a breast exam. About a week later, after not feeling fine, I remembered the lump and told a friend who urged me to get a referral for a mammo, which I did, and they found it right away. I was in later intermediate stage. I had also had two unexplained pancreatitis the year before my diagnosis. Also I had a deficiency in vitamin D.  That's all I knew was wrong before my diagnosis. 

Hope this helps.  I too got sick of the "but you're so young line."  I had it for a while before that and I was younger, visiting doctors and no one caught it, so, go figure. 






Monday, October 21, 2013

Michele

I met my next friend, Michele, through a mutual friend.  We instantly bonded over our mutual disdain toward Komen and what the pink ribbon has become.  Neither of us are friends with the woman who was our mutual friend.  I never knew a friendship could form over a hatred toward Komen, but it can.  It's not the only thing we have in common (running does change everything).
 
 
Age and diagnosis

36. Stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma. - triple negative breast cancer.
 

Family history or BRCA mutation?

2 aunts (1 ovarian, 1 premenopausal BC).  No mutation.  [Interesting; like me, a strong family history but no mutation.]
 

Who caught it?
 
Me.  [I then asked her for more details regarding how she caught it.]
 
The story of finding it is actually odd--
 
I found it Christmas day 2008.  I had been feeling horrible and exhausted for a couple months and thought it was because of the holidays and having 3 kids.  In retrospect, I think it was the cancer but there's no way to prove it.  My in-laws and my parents were in town and I had just pulled off DAYS of Christmas stuff-- mass, going to see lights, cookie decorating, Christmas Eve dinner for friends & family, santa, Christmas morning presents, brunch for family, a big dinner Christmas day... not to mention all the cleaning in between.  To say I was stressed out was an understatement.  That night, I took a bubble bath.  I almost never take bubble baths (who has the time??).  As I slumped into the water, I rested my hands across my chest... and felt the lump.  I instantly knew it was cancer, I just knew.  It was small and firm. It didn't hurt at all.  I was still breast-feeding my toddler so I knew what my breast(s) should feel like and this was different.
 
The next morning, I called a colleague and asked him to see me *that day*.  He did and ordered a mammogram and ultrasound.  After seeing the images, my fears were confirmed although no one would actually say "you have cancer" until after the biopsy.
 

Did your doctors listen to you?
 
Yes but I teach at the medical school so they had to.  :)
 

What would you say to a young woman who thinks she might have something wrong?

I would tell any young woman to listen to their own body and intuition.  It doesn't matter how educated you are or who you know.  YOU are in charge of your own body.  YOU know YOU best.  If you think something is wrong, there likely is.  I would also tell any woman (young or old) that your treatment is up to you.  In my case, during the diagnosis and treatment phases of my illness, my MD's and I saw eye-to-eye.  I had a bad-ass cancer and they agreed with me to use a "big gun" approach.  However, when all was said and done and I wanted a prophylactic mastectomy of the other breast and a prophylactic oophorectomy, I had to fight like hell to get those procedures.  My surgeon didn't want to "maim" me (yes he said that)... as if a uni-boob is good for much and my ovaries were chemo-fried anyway. My oncologist was concerned that I was acting out of fear and not fact (hell yes it was fear!!).  In the end, I got that *normal* breast removed (and the ovaries too!) and haven't regretted it. SO, like I said before- YOU know what is best for YOU.  (And, it is perfectly OK to act out of fear and not fact sometimes... ESPECIALLY if that "fear" is robbing you of your sanity.)

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Is it November yet?

At the end of September, I decided, "Hey, I should take pictures of all the pink items that come across my path."  You know, after awhile, I had to stop because it never ends, it seems.  Damn you, Pinktober.  You got me.  You are too much beast for me to slay.






The ad doesn't even say if proceeds go to anywhere.... at all.  It's just an almost $60-moisturizer that slapped a pink ribbon on it.


Yoplait and Breast Cancer Action tussled before - read about it here.



THIS DOESN'T EVEN GO TO A BREAST CANCER AWARENESS CHARITY!!!!!  I don't even know what Entertainment Industry Foundation does.  A foundation that gives to other foundations?



This is what I encountered just trying to fly from Pittsburgh to Kansas City, complete with pink balloons as I checked in for my flight.






I just walked into a Hyvee store and holy crap, pink tchtokes everywhere.  You can be head to toe pink if you want!




"Show me your tits... oh wait, sorry, ma'am."


Here, you can have awareness tissues to dab away the tears that all this pink crap causes you.  Yes, I'm crying too.


Uh, men can get breast cancer, too.  Brothers, fathers, grandfathers....



Is it really support if your shoes cover up these socks?


Push pins?  Really?



Even my inbox isn't safe from Pinktober.






Lastly, I'm going to sanitize my hands from all this pink crap with pink anti-bacterial soap.