So it’s back from the extra trip to the mammography unit, where the radiologist says she and her ultrasound lady found two “nodules” which she believes to be dangerously suspicious. She explained all the reasons she thinks these things could be boob cancer, and she made good sense. So now they want to schedule a needle biopsy and, if that turns out positive, surgery.
Ducky. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind.
She said the chance that they’re benign fibroadenomas is about 50 percent. That, of course, means there’s a 50 percent chance that they’re cancer. Doesn’t sound like great odds to me. Because these are new growths, because of my age, and because I have never taken hormones, the likelihood that they’re malignant is elevated.
Look into this and you discover that benign fibroadenomas in old bats like me may (or may not) be precursors of actual breast cancer:
Women diagnosed with benign disease do appear to have an overall modest increase in risk for subsequent development of breast cancer, particularly for more hyperplastic or epithelial (the covering or lining) proliferative forms. However, the evidence regarding the risk of breast cancer for non-proliferative conditions is conflicting. Some research found that the risk of breast cancer for women with non-proliferative disease is about double that of women without benign disease (Bodian 1993b), while others find that lesions with no proliferative changes were not associated with an increased risk (Oza 1993; Henderson 1996; NBCC 1999). According to Hurley (1997), atypical hyperplasia is a risk factor, but is not with certainty followed by breast cancer; risk applies to both breasts, with greater risk on the affected side. There is no means to predict which women will go on to develop breast cancer and the effectiveness of current screening and management methods is unknown. Further complicating a physician’s ability to predict a woman’s risk for breast cancer is that most women do not have a history of biopsy for a benign lesion (Bodian 1993c; NBCC 1999).
Isn’t that informative!
Hm. Interestingly, neurofibromas (a hereditary condition which I happen to enjoy) can also appear in one’s boobs, and they can be mistaken for fibroadenomas. And lo! These things are on the same side as the neurofibromas that infest my shoulder. Wish I’d known that…I would have pointed out the shoulder lumps to the radiologist. Oh well.
What a damn nuisance. You know, the truth is, I don’t really much care whether I live or die. My life is essentially over now, and I’m not at all afraid of dying. Nor do I imagine I have much of anything left to do on this earth: I fill my hours with frantic busywork mostly to pass the time. What does scare me is the prospect of suffering the way my mother did with her cancer…and with her incompetent quack doctors. Truly, I would cheerfully die right now, today, rather than suffer the way she did.
Because I’m all by myself and there is no one here to help me, the hassle factor is almost more than I can bear to contemplate. The biopsy is nothing, but if, as seems fairly likely, they decide these things are cancers, the upshot will be lumpectomy and radiation therapy, according to the radiologist.
That means an overnight stay in the hospital plus God only knows how long to recuperate enough to get back to a normal life. None of the sites I’ve looked at say how long it takes to recover, but I would assume it will be at least a couple of weeks… Evidently long-term pain and numbness of the arm, plus some other uncomfortable and weird manifestations, are possible. The radiologist seemed to be saying they would perform radiation therapy at the time of the surgery, but all of these sites talk about five or six weeks of radiation therapy.
So. At the outset, someone will have to take care of these dogs, since I will be unable to do so for at least several days and possibly longer than that. Someone will have to take care of the pool, which is merrily going green — I have to do battle every day to keep the algae blooms under control, because I was too damn lazy and cheap to drain the thing and refill with fresh water last winter. Probably someone will have to run to the grocery store at least a few times to get me some food. And of course all these little projects I’ve been doing, trying to get books published and the incoming giant index and the various other editorial projects are going to have to go away, to the loss of at least a couple thousand bucks. If I’m unable to function well enough to teach my classes next semester, that’ll be another $4800 out the door.
Ugh. Just what I need to make my day!
Ugh. So sorry. I hope they turn out to be the good 50% chance and not cancer. Keep us posted.
Claro que it could go either way. (oh! a rhyme! did i miss my chance to be a poet?)
“Nor do I imagine I have much of anything left to do on this earth: I fill my hours with frantic busywork mostly to pass the time.”
Funny, after reading your blog for so long I’ve often thought your jam-packed schedule was mostly self-imposed. I’m sad that you feel this way. Maybe you’ll have grandchildren, so that would be something to look forward to? And if you do have to have surgery (hope not), your son and/or friends could probably help you. I will keep good thoughts for you.
Why is that sad? I’ve accomplished everything in my life that I set out to do when I was a young thing.
I earned a Ph.D.
I’ve had an academic career.
I’ve been a professional writer.
I’ve published several books and more articles than anyone can count.
I’ve been on the editorial staff of a nationally prominent magazine.
I married a prominent man.
I had a fine son.
I achieved full independence.
I established a successful small business.
I live well, in financial independence.
I’ve made my altruistic contribution to society as a teacher.
What more does a person need?
Nothing lasts forever. And there’s a point in life where you come to terms with the fact that you yourself will not last forever. And it’s OK.
HOLY CRUD! The lump doesn’t worry me as much as you sharing that …”you’re done”. I’m sure watching your Mom pass was tough and I swear the older I get the less confidence I have in doctors but that is surely no reason to throw in the towel. Couple of things….First, DW had a “breast cancer scare” about 20 years ago. The doctor was so concerned he chose to operate…almost immediately and like you our minds raced as to how we would carry on if she had the dreaded disease. Fortunately it was a “fibrous cyst” and DW has not had a recurrence which I hope happens in your case. BUT like so many things in life it changes you, makes you a bit more humble, a bit more thankful. Secondly, My Dear Dad is 83 and we have been battling lung cancer for about 2.5 years…surgery…chemo…hospitalizations…you name it. I have been there every step and what I have observed is attitude is everything. Make no mistake he is a fighter and my thought is this will be part of the legacy that he will leave. Please make no mistake you have much left to offer on this earth. If you feel your time left is not being spent wisely…change it. During my Dad’s illness, if nothing else I’ve learned… life is short…embrace every day….
+1 jestjack!
The more I learn about this, the more likely it appears that the radiologist was right to be alarmed. That is, the more likely it appears that these lumps are probably small cancers.
This evening I had dinner with a friend who’s an RN. When I described what was seen in the sonogram, she was cool until I said “…and it has a blood supply.” Then her expression changed and she said, “Uh oh!”
Evidently, the presence of blood flowing through a breast mass is a marker for cancer. Although some benign masses can have blood vessels, apparently cancers always do. They manufacture their own blood flow through a process called angiogenesis.
These things are so small that even though I know where they are, I can’t feel them. My gynecologist could not feel them. Neither could the resident who was training in gynecology at her office. So my guess is that assuming they are cancer, there’s some chance that removing them will delay the inevitable for some years.
Dear Funny,
We would and do care – many of us do not want you to shuffle off this mortal coil [why is it a coil?] any sooner than need be.
I am sure many of your blog readers, including those who may not write you, would feel bereft if you were not here. And many, if not all, are sending prayers and good wishes your way during this time.
I do agree with jestjack and deedee, attitude can be immensely helpful when faced with this possibility.
I hope tomorrow brings you a brighter outlook! And best wishes for a benign result.
LOL! In the 16th century, when Shakespeare inscribed that turn of language into everyday speech, “coil” meant “racket, noise, strife.” Think “helicopter parked over the house.” 😀
What Jack and DeeDee said. Plus this: YOU are the one in charge of how much/what sort of treatment you get IF that crap is cancer. You are not required to submit to any of it, if shuffling off this mortal coil (yeah. Why coil?) is your choice.
Please know, though, that you are valuable and would be missed!
Thanks.
Surely, if these things are treatable with surgery and radiation, as I’m told is probable, that’s what I’ll do.
My mother didn’t suffer because of the way she was treated. She suffered because she was NOT treated: her “doctors,” whose HMO would have lost money had they acknowledged the obvious (that she had some kind of cancer), refused accept that she was sick at all, much less that her peritoneum was full of malignant tumors. As a result, she spent weeks and months in excruciating pain, when what was needed was a steady supply of morphine.
I have VERY little faith in the medical establishment. Doctors are human beings, not magicians or miracle-workers. They make mistakes, and they are, in reality, painfully limited in what they can do.
I read this last night and couldn’t respond because I just couldn’t formulate the kind of response I thought it deserved. In the meantime others have expressed very well the thoughts that I had.
Maybe there is good to come out of this scare. Maybe it helps you realize that you really don’t have to keep pushing yourself to take on work you don’t want to do. You’ve already made some changes by hiring someone to clean the house. Maybe you’ll see that you can spend down more of your retirement funds than you thought you could so you can do more things you enjoy like making jewelry, cooking, singing in the choir, and writing fiction.
We’re all hoping the needle biopsy is benign and that you share the results with us when you know more. In the meantime, treat yourself well and with kindness.
Thank you!
Well… {cackle!} If I end up on the operating table, it WILL be an excuse to get out of doing the index for the 400-page tome on Anglo-Saxon maritime history.
Always a silver lining, eh? 😀
Funny – I had a lumpectomy with lymph node dissection 16 years ago. The lumpectomy part of the surgery was not all that bad, and in fact healed faster than a few in-office lump removals I had before that. The lymph node dissection was worse since they do cut a nerve, and apparently my surgeon was pretty aggressive in taking out as many nodes as he could see. But it still was not so debilitating that I had to have a lot of help around the house after the first week to ten days. The follow-up radiation does take 6 weeks, but it is only a few minutes a day plus the drive to and from the lab. If the cancer has not spread to the lymph nodes, the radiation is not highly intense and although I was fatigued a nap usually helped – and I kept working full time for the duration. So please do not go into this imagining you will be fully debilitated for a couple of months.
Wow! A week or ten days?!! It will be very expensive for me to hire someone to come in to help for that long. Holy mackerel.
They now have a couple of other radiation strategies that are significantly shorter — one, I think was only three weeks. They keep working on this stuff and coming up with new treatments and approaches.
Good luck and best wishes.
Thanks!
Dear Funny, Please do as much research as you can about your illness. As phony as it sounds …knowledge is power….and for me anyway it helps me cope with what’s going on. Before my Dad’s surgery to remove his left lower lobe, I confronted the Doc/surgeon with the stats that I had researched that there was a 60% probability that the cancer would spread WITH the surgery. He became very pale and then explained the option of doing nothing was not a good course of action. As for me….I want to know so an intelligent decision can be made with all the facts. From my research it seems a blood flow to tumors CAN be a troubling discovery BUT I would wait till after the biopsy AND if you have any doubts please get a second opinion….
Yah, I just figured that out and posted on it.
Guy prob’ly got pale because he’d already spent the 87 gerjillion bucks he figured Medicare would pay for the surgery.
Oh, wait: that’s cynical, isn’t it. Sorry.