There I was, 38 years old, mom of an amazing four year old boy, and wife to a really great guy. I had just about everything a girl could ask for. Though there still felt to be something missing. Despite being in my late 30’s, I really wanted to give my son a sibling. Conception of my son was not an easy task, but I really wanted to try again, so I followed through with general health visits to a few doctors to ensure all my ducks were in a row. Getting a mammogram was just another task to check off my list. I did have two prior mammograms, which included my baseline, as well as an additional screening the next year. The results of those mammograms indicated extremely dense breast tissue and the presence of several cysts. The radiologist recommended I consider receiving annual mammograms starting then rather than waiting until I turned 40. I count my lucky stars that this recommendation was made, that I remembered it, that my gynecologist agreeably wrote a script for another mammogram, and that I followed through with the appointment. It saved me.
I did not feel a lump. None of the numerous doctors I saw felt a lump. My cancer was detected by mammogram only – a mammogram that insurance companies say I shouldn’t even have due to my young age. I am a true representative of the saying, “early detection saves lives.”
On November 4, 2015, I received a phone call reporting the biopsy results were positive for cancer. I was diagnosed with early stage invasive ductal carcinoma (PR+, ER+, HER2 -). Shock. Denial. Fear. I’m an educated medical professional, yet all I kept thinking was, “There must have been a mix up at the lab. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening to me.” I have no family history of breast cancer, or any other type of cancer for that matter. I tested negative for the BRCA gene, as well as the high and moderate risk panel of genes associated with breast cancer. It’s hard to not ask, “why did this happen?” Though I can’t say that I would feel any better if I was given a definitive reason. I simply drew the short stick. Or did I?
Most young women diagnosed with breast cancer present with greater odds against them. Typically, the younger you are, the more aggressive the cancer. The more aggressive the cancer, the more aggressive the treatment must be. But the odds were in my favor. And I had options. Options that initially felt like a burden to me. I didn’t want to make the decision they were forcing me to make. But then this is cancer we’re talking about – everything with cancer is a burden. I still have moments when I question whether or not I made the right choice. Only time will tell with this one. Ultimately, I opted for a lumpectomy. My first surgery proved to be a success, with clear margins surrounding the cancer mass and no need for additional surgery. My treatment plan included 6 weeks of daily radiation, followed by 5 years (with the potential of up to 10 years) of Tamoxifen. My sentinel lymph nodes tested negative for cancer, and my oncotype score (a measurement of rate of recurrence) was very low. Therefore, I was not a candidate for chemotherapy. I was given a gift that many women in my shoes never receive. No chemo. I kept my hair, did not experience bone pain or grow terribly weak or ill. Seems as though I didn’t draw such a short stick after all.
Despite my good fortune, cancer still left some nasty scars – physically, mentally, emotionally. The addition I so desperately wanted to make to my family could no longer happen, and I struggled with finding my way through my new reality. Coping, adapting, healing – there’s so much endurance wrapped up in those three little words. How do I navigate it all and continue on?
When I was first diagnosed and going through various testing procedures, I quickly learned how overwhelming and exhausting it was to relay information regarding my status to my loved ones. I began an online journal as a central source for family and friends to go to for updates on my latest test results, appointments, and treatment protocol. It was intended to be a simple resource, a place for me to just relay the facts. However, it ended up being so much more than that. My writing served as an outlet for me, a form of catharsis that I didn’t even initially realize I was getting from it. Encouraging comments from loved ones motivated me, and I maintained regular posts throughout the course of my treatment. When treatment ended and follow up appointments slowed down, I didn’t have much of anything to report. So I stopped writing. I went through the motions each day, surprised at my struggles in attempting to move on. More coping. And after several months of this, I decided that maybe I should start writing again.
In a journal entry I made early on in my updates, I made reference to wanting to find strength from within. I used an analogy to Katniss Everdeen, a woman portrayed of great strength and bravery in the popular Hunger Games series. I see her as a bad ass heroine with a bow and arrow who would not go down without a fight. I had hoped I could find my inner Katniss, as I was about to enter my own battle with cancer. After I made this reference and posted my entry, friends and loved ones started sending me photos of Katniss.
They made me smile. I got little words of encouragement, such as “Go Katniss” and “Stay Strong Katniss” sent my way. Some people even sent me gifts that incorporated arrows. So I made more references to Katniss in my journal updates. And before I knew it, all this Katniss talk was actually inspiring me. I can do this. It’s amazing some of the things we look toward when we’re desperately in need of motivation and strength. Arrows – they’re kind of my thing now. And Katniss, she’s a part of me now too.
Combining my realization that the effects of breast cancer don’t end when treatment ends with my realization that writing about it is a good thing, findingkatniss.com was born. To say the least, it is quite a roller coaster ride. I’m so very grateful to have you here with me.
Hold on tight – it’s one hell of a ride!