I’m not sure exactly why I’ve always been such a nervous-Nelly and control freak . . . trying so hard to orchestrate everything around me for a perfect outcome. It’s created a lot of hard work and stress for me . . . trying to be the most dedicated, hard-working employee at my job; trying to be the most loving, caring and supportive Mom to my kids, trying to be supportive and responsive to my husband’s every need, managing the bills for the household [and our printing business for 18 years]; keeping the yard & house in tip-top order, creating perfect dinners that not only taste great - but look picture perfect. I don’t even know when I became so controlling and felt responsible for everything around me. But that’s pretty much been my M.O. [method of operation] most of my life. I can only guess it may have stemmed from my dysfunctional home life as a child, and then living 18 years with an alcoholic husband. It just seemed like if I wanted things to be nice in my life . . . I was the one who had to make it happen, because I couldn’t really depend on anyone else.

Well, one day in May 2003, my control on my life came crashing down with a big thud. I had gone in for a routine yearly mammogram at Kaiser, was called back for an ultrasound, and later called back for a needle core biopsy. I was starting to get a little nervous about the whole ordeal, and decided to have my husband join me for the test results. The surgeon who did the biopsy, strolled in with my mammogram x-rays and my test results and confirmed my deepest fears that “YES, you do have breast cancer . . . 2 types in fact, lobular and ductal. We need to act immediately and I’d like to schedule surgery today. How would you like to treat your breast cancer . . . lumpectomy or mastectomy?” I was stunned when he said the “C” word, and could only think “Oh no, I’m going to die.” But I guess I was even more surprised that he asked ME how I wanted to proceed. I always thought that when you go to a doctor, he finds out what’s wrong and prescribes the medicine, or makes recommendations as to the next step to take. I was confused, petrified, and breathless to think that I was the one to decide my course of treatment with something as scary as Cancer – and he was waiting for my decision right then. Of course, my sweet husband was immediately overtaken with loud, uncontrollable sobbing. At one point I thought I was going to have to ask him to keep it down, so I can hear what the doctor was saying. Poor Randy, he’s so loving and such a passionate person, he responded with his emotions on high that morning. On the contrary, whenever I’m faced with bad news, or going thru a traumatic situation, I think on the outside . . . I just look “ho-hum”. It takes me a while to process the information . . . but on the inside my mind, heart & stomach are doing flip-flops. Since my older sister died 4 years previously with breast cancer, my mother died at 41 with breast cancer, my grandmother and great grandmother also had it . . . the fact that I now had it wasn’t as surprising as the surgeon’s expecting me to plan my treatment. I told him that I need to get a 2nd opinion, and do a little research and that I’d get back with him as soon as possible.

The big decision

I started a notebook, to keep all my receipts in for insurance reasons, and to generally keep me organized. Every time I went to see a new doctor, I added another tab for him. I was trying to make the wisest choice for my situation and I was trying real hard to NOT over-react. I made up a list of pro’s and cons for Mastectomy vs Lumpectomy. Every time I discovered a new tid bit of information either in my research or talking with cancer survivors, I would add it to my list. Randy was also researching with me. It was such a hard decision for me to make . . . one day I’d say “I really think I should just have a Mastectomy” . . . and then the next day I’d say . . . “You know, I think I’m just over-reacting, I’m just going to have a Lumpectomy with Radiation.” I kept teetering back and forth for a couple of weeks . . . it was about the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make and the absolute worst time of my life. And my poor husband, Randy, was trying to be loving and supportive of whatever I decided . . . so I was bringing him along on my roller-coaster journey trying to make my final decision.

My argument for Mastectomy with reconstruction:

-1. The texture of my breast since my hysterectomy has transformed into solid lumps. You can’t do a self exam accurately because all I have is lumps now.

-2. I’ve always been self-conscious of how large my breast are [34DD] and have tried concealing them with layers of clothes. I’ve asked my Physicians over the years about breast reduction and was told that I should wait awhile [a few years minimum] to see if anything developes. I almost always have abnormal mammograms and the doctors were watching growth of calcifications. Any alterations to this area added with scar tissue would have made it difficult to detect dangerous growth patterns.

-3. 2 types of cancer found [Ductal and Invasive Lobular Carcinoma]. Lobular, as I understand it: 1) is an indicator that my breast tissue has a tendency to mutate that way; 2) Is not picked up in mammograms, so grows huge before detected; and 3) does not stay in a a neat packaged lump – but spreads out wide, so its not easy to remove.

-4. I’ve been experiencing pain in my neck, back and shoulders most of my life . . . due to wearing such sturdy bras to support my heavy breast. I have permanent grooves in my shoulders – I hate it!

-5. I have a strong family history of breast cancer in my family . . . so being diagnosed with breast cancer really freaked me out [Sister, Mother, Grandmother]. I’m thinking “Cut it out now! Get rid of the thing that cancer is attacking.

My argument against Mastectomy with reconstruction:

-1. All of the breast tissue is impossible to remove, so my breast cancer can still return there.

-2. The emotional and psychological pain of being disfigured will affect the quality of my life . . . although my husband is very supportive no matter what I decide

-3. Even though I complain of neck, back and shoulder pain from my heavy breast - it probably pails in comparison to this surgery, plus months of reconstruction.

My argument for Lumpectomy with Radiation:

-1. I don’t want to over-react to my fears by doing an extreme act I’ll be sorry for later.

-2. I want to be a good role model for my own daughter. I don’t want to project unfounded fear of future cancer for her nor do I want her to hate her body [breast in particular].

My argument against Lumpectomy with Radiation:

-1. The long-term side effects of radiation scared me to death. When radiation is used, it doesn’t just stop at the tumors – it goes right through your body, and can have extremely damaging effects on bones and organs.

-2. After using radiation, there’s absolutely no chance of reconstruction with plastic surgery. The tissues are pretty much cooked and looses it’s elasticity.

-3. Since one of my cancers was Invasive Lobular Carcinoma, and is a good indicator that my other breast would most likely develop this particular cancer in the future . . . I just couldn’t fathom the idea of facing these same decisions and surgeries in a couple of years . . again.

After a couple of hectic weeks of research, consultation and prayerful consideration . . . I finally made my decision to have a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. Randy and I both were overcome with a calming inner peace with this decision . . . for my body and my situation this seemed to make the most sense.

Now we just had to notify our surgeon, my work, family & friends. Probably the most disturbing response to my decision, came from our closest friends. Randy and I have a group of friends that we’ve had for over 35 years. We were all young together, had babies and raised our families together, and now were retiring together. It had become a tradition among our friends, that whenever someone got their first Social Security Check that they would treat everyone with a big celebratory dinner. It just so happened that Randy had just received his first Social Security Check about this time . . . so we took all our friends out for Sushi. It was a lot of fun . . . the food was great, and the evening was filled with funny old stories sprinkled with jokes about aging . . . and it just felt so good being surrounded by old friends. Before everyone left, Randy and I revealed my breast cancer diagnosis, and my decision for a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. At first our news was met with a sudden silence, then a couple of our dear friends began sobbing uncontrollably. They offered to pay my doctor and surgery expense if I’d just have the Lumpectomy. I’m sure they were horrified and just couldn’t imagine me without any breast at all. I told them I’d think about it . . . and truthfully, I began doubting my earlier decision. I ended up conferring with 3 different counselors over the next couple of days – because I was at odds with our friends reactions. Eventually, I stuck with my original decision . . . I know they meant well, but they didn’t know all the facts . . . and my breast weren’t really worth dying for.

Surgery – preparing for it:

I later learned that Dani’s intent was to make sure that when the doctor was in the operating room and looked down at me, he would see a person who people “loved and cared for” . . . not just a slab of meat to carve up. Her light-hearted joking and demeanor often masks a precious lady with great depth. Even on the morning of my surgery, as I gathered my insurance and admittance paperwork, and a nervous and tense Randy gruffly asked in his strong Spanish accented voice . . . “Do you want to bring a book, also?” Dani turned to me and said . . . “Mom, I think he called you Ass-Hole?” Of course we all knew exactly what Randy said . . . but she was trying to lighten his mood. Dani and I had one last laugh as we headed off to the hospital.

In another attempt to keep these drastic measures on my breast cancer in a lighter mood . . . Dani suggested a “Breast Pool” . . . Randy and I liked the idea and encouraged all our friends & family to participate. Before I went into surgery - everyone had to try and guess the exact weight of my breast tissue. I double checked with the surgeon before he wheeled me into the operating room to make sure that he not only weighed them, but that I was notified of their weight, as well – because of our “Breast Pool”. He laughed and said “You guys are sick.” Since I’ve always had such large breasts, I speculated they had to weigh a good 10 pounds. After reading the post-operative pathology report and converting grams to pounds . . . it turned out, they were only 4.93 lbs . . . and my dear friend, Carol Morris won the pool.

As I was awaiting to be wheeled into the operating room, I was accompanied by my sweet husband, Randy, and my daughters, Danielle and Julie. Because it was a pre-op room, only one at a time could accompany me – so they took turns in 10 minute shifts. Each one gave me such comfort in their own ways . . . Julie prayed and read scriptures to me . . . Dani told jokes and kept everything light hearted . . . and my serious & worried husband caressed me and just kept telling me how much he loved me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved. What a beautiful and priceless gift they gave me.

Probably the most important part of our decision making and coping process was our faith in God and the power of prayers. During every step we took and every decision we made, we continually prayed for wisdom, courage and strength . . . with each other, with our bible study group, with family and friends. And the peace that only God can provide, surrounded me, and allowed me to face my situation with peace in my heart and a smile on my face. When I was wheeled out of the operating room and began recovering, I was overcome with gratitude and joy at being surrounded by my loving family. My joy and peace far outweighed any pain I also felt.

A couple of days after I returned home, I found an amazing note from my daughter . . . which was so heart warming: “Mom, The day of your surgery, I was completely moved by how beautiful and classy you are. You were so calm and peaceful before surgery, so dignified. I would have been freaking out. And the way you looked when they wheeled you out, like a movie star! I felt honored to have you for my mom and I think there’s nobody I’d rather emulate. I was thinking as I left the hospital, “If one day I can be a fraction of what she is . . . that would be a good goal!” And isn’t that wonderful? To have a role model that’s your own mother? I’m so proud of you and I’m so lucky. Everyone who knows you is! I love you, Dani”

She also gave a beautiful & moving card to Randy, letting him know how appreciative she was that he loved and cared for me so. I think this whole ordeal was a life-altering experience for her. After seeing how devoted and caring Randy was during my surgery and recovery . . . she decided that she’d try to find someone just like him for her partner. She saw the value in his love, devotion and sacrifice . . . which far outweighed per previous picks for an ideal partner . . . i.e. mostly hard-drinking, motorcycle-driving party-animal types, who are fun to be with, but mostly self-involved.

About 2 weeks after my surgery, we got the final pathology reports. I had cancer in 2 other quadrants of my breast, plus my nipple. Had I just had a lumpectomy, those cancers would have continued to grow – so I was grateful for my hard decision. Also, I discovered that the sentinel node biopsy showed cancer involvement . . . so I had to return for another surgery to remove all my lymph nodes in my right arm. This was performed about 3 weeks after my first surgery. These lymph nodes are located deep in the arm pit . . . so this surgery was 10 times more painful . . . ouch!

As I began recovering from this second surgery, and awaited yet another pathology report – I soon discovered a disturbing fact. My left arm was somewhat impaired due to my first surgery, but now I lost the use of my right arm almost completely. I felt like a bird with a broken wing. I could only move my elbow about 3 inches from my waist. I started doing post-operative exercises to stretch out the scar tissues, muscles, etc. . . . but for quite a while, I needed Randy’s help more than ever. I became pretty good at brushing my teeth with only my left hand, but I could do nothing with my hair. When I needed to get ready for my many Dr. appointments or get ready for church . . . Randy was my very own personal hair stylist. Talk about true faith . . . imagine sitting still while your husband is cut loose on your hair with a curling iron. This was his first time even touching a curling iron . . . and I didn’t look too bad.

Chemo

I soon met my Oncologist at Kaiser. She was a really friendly lady doctor, and even though she got down to business, she put my fears to rest about Chemo and my chances for survival. I felt lucky that she’s so caring because I’ll probably be seeing her for the rest of my life. She went over with Randy and I the assorted chemicals she was planning to use on me [my Chemo cocktail], and their side effects. And Yes, I would be loosing my hair.

I had my first chemo on August 4th. About 10 days later, I had to go to the Oncology department to get my blood tested, to see how I was fairing during my LOW point. When the nurse got the results, she lectured me to go straight home [do not be around anyone right now] and rest for 3-5 days . . . my white cells had bottomed out . . . if I was 1/10th of a point lower, they would have sent Randy home with medicine to give me dailey injections to get my white cells up. That got my attention! It’s one thing for Randy to use a curling iron on my hair . . . but shots too! I know the Lord will give us both the courage and strength if it comes to that . . . but I have to tell you, I was a little nervous at the mere thought. Can you just see it . . . Randy, who usually faints at a drop of blood, giving me injections . . . we would probably both faint. Ha Ha

My second chemo session held a real treat for me . . . my son, Pete, drove all the way from Napa on Sunday, just so he could join me at my Chemo session Monday. When I went into the Chemo room, my entire family joined me . . . Randy, Pete and Danielle. The nurses just smiled . . . I think they liked to see their patient’s with family support for this ordeal.

The nurse who was trying to insert an IV line into my left wrist was having difficulty . . . my one visible vein collapsed [it was fine 3 weeks ago – but not that day] and after several additional pokes, she finally asked another nurse to start my IV. By this time, I was in a lot of pain, trembling uncontrollably and crying. The 2nd nurse was able to start the IV in the tiniest vein on the top of my hand, whew, I was relieved. Unfortunately, by this time, I was still trembling uncontrollably, and I was feeling a lot of pain in my forearm . . . so I kept rubbing it. The nurse said that my vein was spasming because I got too upset, so she ran to Dr. Krecker to get approval to give me a double dose of Ativan in my IV to help me relax.