100%
November 18, 2010 23 Comments
Today was supposed to be a good day, but I have learned of late not to put all of my eggs in one basket. I was a bit hesitant to leave the house, as I had not one, but two doctors' appointments, but given the way the surgery went, given the (verified) results I received over the phone and given that one visit was to the plastic surgeon (and we all know I utterly adore Dr. X), I was hopeful.
We made it to the first appointment in a timely manner, and the breast surgeon started off with an exam. She was extremely pleased with my progress, noted that I still had much more feeling than she expected and signed off on the manual lymphatic drainage massages that have increased my mobility, decreased my stiffness and enhanced my overall mood. Then she dropped the bombshell about my stage.
Breast cancer, as you are probably aware, can be defined by stages. Since no one knew the true nature of my tumor or what was really going on in my breast until everything was, ahem, excavated, it was hard to truly define mine. I'm not even going to get into too much detail just yet (we'll deal with that later), but for the sake of the conversation, we'll keep it to my overall level of illness, for lack of a better term.
When we first met with the breast surgeon, she put me somewhere between Stage 2A and 2B. It was wrongly (at the time) assumed that my tumor was larger, and we had no true knowledge of the extent of lymph node involvement. This did not thrill me, as the OB had assured me we had caught it 'early' and to me, nothing stage 2 or beyond (especially involving extra letters) reads 'early' to me.
We didn't stress about that too much, though, since there was plenty of other stuff to fret about. Then we made the big mistake of visiting Mr. Radiation Oncologist who annoyed the you-know-what out of me. Just prior to my putting him in his place, he decided to get in my face about my diagnosis and spat out, "For all we know, you are Stage 3!"
Now there are three parts to stage 3 and while they appear scary on paper, by this point in time I had read miracles about those with Stage 4. So, if he though that was going to throw me, he had another thing coming. Of course, it still lurked in the back of my mind, but we haven't seen him since and no one else bothered mentioning stages since only the surgery would answer all of the questions.
Well, answer it did. I'm not Stage 3…not even close. As the doctor looked up at me today with a huge grin on her face, she proudly announced that due to the small size of the IDC tumor (fewer than 2 centimeters) and the fact that there was no lymph node involvement, I am…drum roll…
Ahem, DRUM ROLL:
Stage 1. Take, that Mr. "You Might Be Stage 3"!
And the survival rate for Stage 1, assuming that everything is caught in time and treated properly (remember we are still hoping for low Oncotype DX and no radiation)?
100%*.
(Now following the appointment there was a bit of nasty business about possibly still favoring radiation in an email from the oncologist, but we are doing our darndest to ignore that for now.)
Now, just how does one follow-up a visit like that? With a little stop at the plastic surgeon's office of course!
The good news: the dressing came off, everything looks good and I was able to adios one of the drains. The bad news: I looked, I was horrified and I just cried.
I think it's just going to take time for me to adjust. The surgeon left the room and I wept in Peter's arms for a good 10 minutes. I guess it's not awful, but it's not what was there. Yes, there is a good bit of feeling, yes, it has only been 6 days since the surgery, and yes, we are nowhere near finished. Still it's not the same and I can't say it's not going to take a bit of adjusting.
The upside? There is not so much dissimilarity between the, uh, sides, that I can't soon wear normal undergarments (well, as normal as zip up sport bras get). Um, yeah, that's it for upsides for now…
*Yes, there are some websites that say 98%, but we all know that in cases like this, it's much happier to round up. So, round up we will!
100%. I love the sound of it.
Keep getting better….
I am so happy for you!
WHOO-HOO! 100% is awesome! You go, girl!
Yay! I love that your stage 1 sucker punched that lame doctor.
Awesome! That’s wonderful.
Congrats on the stage 1 and the 100% is amazing. I’m so glad you are feeling like you have a new lease on life. What an amazing thing to have. Thanks for your honest words about the feelings associated with your new self and looking at your new self for the first time. A good long cry sounds like just the right thing. I shed a little tear for you all the way over here in Manila. You are so brave. So strong.
Hurrah! So happy!
I am 100% thrilled for you. I knew today was going to be a good day, and this was the first thing I read. Yay!
WOOHOO!! Awesome news!
Wow, so relieved to hear you were Stage 1. And 100% is great too! That coupled with your attitude will really help you recover!!!
Hooray for 100%! Made my morning. I am so glad your wonderful husband is there to hold you when it gets hard.
100% is fabulous.
Thank you for sharing your reaction the first time you saw yourself post surgery. It made me cry. Even though you have 100% chance, it doesn’t change the fact that you had do go through a really difficult path to get there. I am sending you my thoughts and prayers (and maybe some punching gloves for doctors who like to scare their patients into a treatment plan).
Congrats, such wonderful news.
I’m rejoicing with you also!(and shedding a tear or two as well when I read your blog today). And I agree, “rounding up” is definitely in order!!
YYYYEEEAAAAHHHH!! That is such good news!!! We just need to throw you a celebration party now! 🙂
Great news! Wow 100%!
I too am glad that Pete was with you when got your first look.
breathes a happy sigh That is good news!
Wonderful news! And yes – definitely round up!
YAY!! So glad to hear about Stage 1!!!
Stage 1 is sure better than Stage 2! 🙂 Aren’t you glad that one drain is gone? But let me tell you from experience, as gross as they are, it’s better to have them in than out! With my partial mastectomy the surgeon opted to NOT put one in so that my breasts would be “even” – and it was awful! I’ve had many a drain with abdominal surgeries and it certainly is unpleasant – but the fluid buildup in the cavity left in my breast lasted for MONTHS and it SLOSHED. It was like having an little sea in my breast, complete with waves…and it made me nauseated. Enough said. Anyway, I say yay for drains and yay to having them out. 🙂
So I will await hearing if you need radiation or not. I survived it; you can too. 🙂 But it you don’t have to have it, that’s even better!
So glad for good news,
Teresa
I am so overjoyed to hear this good news. take care.
What a jerk Mr. Radiation Oncologist was. Wonder how long he’s worked on that winning bedside manner?
Awesome news though on the stage of progression! I hope you just keep getting better and better news.
Stage 1!!!!!! Woo-hoo girl!