BC Becky

Never thought I'd want to be a breast cancer survivor

Tag: diagnosis

  • My ‘cancerversary’

    I have found myself wondering, what day would I recognize as my ‘cancerversary’. This is typically the day you find out you have cancer. It becomes a significant anniversary in your life after cancer – as does the first day you are told you are ‘cancer free’.

    Rather than choosing the day the radiologist confirmed cancer, I am choosing the day that I noticed something was different. That day, Scott and I went on a 27km bike ride around the Alviso Slough on the southern tip of San Francisco Bay (just north of where we live now).

    Screen Shot 2014-08-01 at 13.29.03

    I took several nice pictures, including these.

    Alviso1

    scottBike


    Alviso2
    When I got home, I hopped in the shower as usual. Everything seemed rather normal until I went to dry off. The discharge from my left nipple was green (it was not abnormal for me to have clear discharge). I’m not sure if I noticed the change in shape then (a little concave bit above the nipple) but I did notice that when I laid down that there was a harder spot – but to me it felt more like a contracted muscle. I thought maybe I had pulled something.

    In the following days, I Google’d green discharge to see that it was no necessarily abnormal. Red is definitely a bad sign, but green wasn’t. The following Monday, June 9th, I decided to call my family doctor – cause well – it was better to have peace of mind. I even said “I think I’m being neurotic and it is nothing, but thought I’d get it checked”. The look on her face when she checked was pretty telling. It needed to be checked because there was definitely ‘something’ there.

    Anyways, I’m derailing. The point is, I first noticed the change on June 1st. So, although the change was confirmed by the radiologist on June 12 (with 98% certainty, they couldn’t be 100% certain until the pathology was back the following Monday), I think I shall indicate my ‘cancerversary’ as June 1st. It will be interesting to see what my reflections reveal on that date next year!

     

     

  • Knowing what to expect

    In my experience, fear comes from not knowing what to expect and not feeling you have any control over what’s about to happen. When you feel helpless, you’re far more afraid than you would be if you knew the facts. If you’re not sure what to be alarmed about, everything is alarming.” (Chris Hatfield in “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth”).

    As the details of tests come back, you are presented with choices. I’ve noticed that all choices seem to come in pairs. You make one choice and then you are presented with the next choice. The quantified data tells you what choices you have, that is, it narrows things down, but the qualified self is who needs to make the decision. So, at times, it is the gut that decides, based upon a bunch of other information.

    Today we got a couple of interesting lab results back. First, the HER2 FISH test came back negative. This is a good thing, as the HER2 treatments aren’t that great (not that any of the treatments are that great). What it means is that the type of cancer I have is the one they understand the most.

    The MRI also showed something interesting. Rather than having a large 4cm+ tumor in my left breast, I actually have two smaller tumors (2cm and 3cm). I’m not completely certain how to take this information, as I now have three tumors. However, the treatment for one is the same as the treatment for the other – so from a treatment perspective nothing changes – and I don’t have a ‘big’ tumor. The MRI also showed no indication of node involvement – which means I caught it early.

    Decisions come in pairs. The first choice is chemo first or surgery first. The next choice depends on the first, but either way, when it comes to surgery I will need to decide on whether I want a mastectomy or a lumpectomy plus radiation. Whatever I do one side, I’ll do on the other – symmetry matters to me.

    After confirming that chemo was advised regardless of surgery choice (increased prognosis by 10% in cases similar to mine), and the chemo before or after surgery didn’t make a difference in the prognosis, but could make surgery easier, the first decision I made was to go with chemo first. My gut had been telling me this for quite some time. I just feel like this thing came out of no where and is spreading, and the only way to catch it systemically is with chemo.

    Of course, that wasn’t the only decision – because every decision leads to another decision. Now I need to choose between two chemo regimes. The quantitative numbers say they have the same outcomes (they did some clinical trials on both regimes and neither was preferred over the other).

    The two options look something like this:

    • option 1: doxorubicin and cyclophosphamide followed by paclitaxel (1 treatment every 2 weeks for 4 cycles, followed by one treatment per week for 12 cycles) – AC -> T
    • option 2:  docetaxel and cyclophsophamide (1 treatment every 3 weeks for 6 cycles) – TC

    They are given at different intervals, but I’ve decided that the logistics of intervals is not an important variable for me. Some people chose one over the other based upon convenience of treatment (the latter option requires less visits and less infusions). So now I must choose based upon side effects, and which I think will be easier / better for me.

    After the doctors appointments, we went for a walk around the arboretum. We found the perfect tree for my picture series. It is an old eucalyptus (huge tree) which hasn’t yet shed its bark for this season – so it is showing older growth now that as the weeks pass shall shed to show the underlying new growth. We also happened across the coolest giant cactus garden. I’ve never seen cacti so large! And finally, we sat in the shade on the back of Stanford’s mausoleum for enjoy a picnic lunch.

    Photo Jun 23, 12 39 23 PM Photo Jun 23, 12 36 07 PM Photo Jun 23, 12 36 49 PM

     

  • My quantified and qualified self

    I started writing this post a few days ago, but never found the time to finish it. Today is a day off of doctors appointments, although I am expecting a call from the oncologist (onc) at PAMF regarding the results the tumor board there.

    Let me start by saying I’m a mixed-methods researcher. That is, that when I do research, I look at both qualitative and quantitative data, as both help to provided a complete picture. With this blog, I have mostly been dealing with what I call my qualified self – that is my feeling and my perceptions of the world. When I think about my quantified self, I’m thinking about the numbers – what’s my current weight, what are the letters that represent my diagnosis, what are my various counts, etc.

    The increase of mobile and now wearable technology has spawned a whole movement known as the quantified self. Scott actually attended a meet-up with people regarding the quantified self. For a few years now, we have been quantifying ourselves by having a scale that connects via wifi to the Internet and reports our weight and body fat measures. This information is nicely graphed for us. One thing this has provided is a clear picture of when I started to lose weight – June 2nd. Without the automatically measuring scale, I would not have been able to so clearly see the progression.

    June 1st was the first time I notice that something wasn’t the same with my left breast. I panicked a little at first, but then told myself it was nothing – of no concern. I convinced myself for a full week that it was nothing. Then on June 9th I went to see my family doctors … and that is when my life began to change.

    Another area where I measure my quantified self is when I bike. I mostly like to track time rather than distance, because really, it is the length of time on the bike that matters most. For this I use an app on my phone called Runkeeper. One advantage to tracking my quantified self is that it provides me with motivation. When I started to write this post, I wanted to report on my bike ride, but I had not done one that day. That gave me the motivation I needed to get out, when I wasn’t really feeling like it – I had the strength, just wasn’t in the mood. Of course, once I got out on the bike I was very glad to be out riding.

    Today, I don’t have any appointments (at least not right now). I’m going to try another attempt at Mount Hamilton from the Fire Station. Last time I tried it I rode 15 km (exactly half was up hill). That was June 10 – the day after the appointment with my primary care doctor, and two days before diagnosis. Today, I’m going to try the same ride, with my folding bike (I find it a little easier to climb on my foldy – plus my road bike is in the shop for a service). It takes about an hour to drive up to the fire station. One really nice thing about this ride is that there is very little traffic during the week. I usually get passed by two or three cars in the hour and half that I’m riding … although I suspect today might be a two hour ride – I’m going to try to make it …

    Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

    When I go to the doctors, I see mostly my quantified self. I am the numbers that are represented by the pathology. However, the doctors actually don’t seem to see me that way. In many ways, they actually seem to be more about the qualified self – they are asking me to make decisions based upon how I feel and what is right for me. They aren’t focusing on the quantified self – at least not yet – now, if I end up in a clinical trial, I expect that will become much more quantified!

    This whole clinical trial thing is interesting. There is so much research going on around breast cancer treatments, that there is guaranteed to be one aspect or another of my treatment that is associated with some trial or another (my surgeon wants to add a tattoo to my nodes if they don’t have cancer). In some ways, I don’t want to be in too much of a trial, as that limits things. For example, if I’m on a chemo regime as a part of a clinical trial, then all my tests and such need to be done at Stanford. I cannot get a portion of my care at the closer PAMF. If I’m not in a trial, then I could, for example, go to PAFM for radiology – which is nice, because the one thing I did like them most at PAFM is their radiology department. Potentially, I could go to PAFM for chemo treatments – even though the onc is at Stanford. It is good to know that the option is there.

    And now I need to make breakfast … fuel for the bike ride later today.

  • Double-mastectomy and chemo

    If I’m repeating myself, I apologize. One thing that I’ve noticed over the last two or three days is that my short-term memory sucks. I cannot seem to hold thoughts for that long, and I am very often walking into a room having completely forgotten why I was there. Worse, is that I sit in front of the computer intent on doing something, then have no clue what that was, and am easily drawn in many different directions.

    Today we had a meeting with the surgeon and then oncologist at PAMF. I also had a phone call from the social worker, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her because I was driving at the time.

    There isn’t exactly a plan for treatment yet, just some general recommendations based upon the known pathology. There is a key test (the HER2) that is expected early next week. The preliminary HER2 was inconclusive, and we need to know if it is positive or negative, so they send samples off to a different lab for further testing. To simplify the discussion with the oncologist, we only went over options that made sense for HER2 negative (which is 80% likely).

    The surgeons recommendation is a double-mastectomy. I had concluded this as well when the right came back positive, as I have two separate cancers in both breasts. What is interesting here is that prior to having cancer, I always thought that if this happened to me, I’d want it out immediately. Now that it has happened, I’m not as certain. Yes, I want it out, but the decision over chemo or surgery first is an interesting one. I have decided that I will not do reconstruction. This makes the surgery much simpler. Reconstruction brings with it a lot of risks, and frankly, I’d be happy to never have to wear a bra again! My nipples have never been a source of pride, and with reconstruction, I’d likely look all or most feeling, so if they are not a source of sexual pleasure, then there isn’t a lot of point to keeping them. Especially when nipple sparing surgery is both more complex and can potential increase the chance of re-occurance. So, it is logical. I like logical. And in some ways it is a relief to have the decision made.

    So far, both cancers (left and right) have the same characteristics (HR-positive and PR-positive). Given the growth rate of the left, chemotherapy is recommended. The chemo would be the ACT type (assuming HER2 negative). Don’t know too much about that yet, since we just learned it today, I haven’t looked it up yet. The chemo could happen before or after surgery, so this is the big question right now.

    Now if I am HER2 positive, that means that chemo will happen first, as there are some HER2 blockers that can only be given before chemo. There are complexities with HER2 – including an increase mortality rate – so if you are inclined to pray, pray for HER2 negative on both sides.

    One thing that I’ve learned is that statistics only mean something before you get a diagnosis. They provide hope (e.g. 80% of breast cancers are HER2 negative), but they mean nothing once you have received the diagnosis. It is no longer relevant what the statistics are about HR-positive and PR-positive. Both cancers are positive, so for me it is 100%. Statistics only matter for the unknown future, not the known present.

    Having two cancers is not so common, but it certainly made the double-mastectomy question easier. If I only had one cancer, keeping the second breast would have been expected (unless I’m BRCA positive – but that information won’t be available for a couple of weeks – we are hoping for negative here too). I would have then had a harder decision regarding reconstruction. I would have always wondered if keeping the right breast would mean an increased risk of occurrence, and it would mean mammograms every 6-months on the right breast, and constant worry. Plus it would have been harder to figure out clothing and all those complexities. Yes women do it, but I would have found it difficult – a constant reminder. So, the double-mastectomy was perhaps one of the easier decisions.

    Tomorrow we go for a second opinion at Stanford. It is also a chance to see the Stanford Cancer Center and decide if it is a better option for treatment. The folks at PAMF saw no reason that I would get any different treatment at Stanford given what we know now. The only thing that might matter is if there is a clinical trial that I qualify for at Stanford that isn’t available at PAMF (the PAMF oncologist didn’t know of any). Stanford in some ways, Stanford has the coolness factor – I could say “I went to Stanford” and I’d wear the sweatshirt with pride. But it is also further away from where we live. At least 20 minutes further, and parking costs $12 (parking is free at PAMF and most of the locations are within 5-10 drive from Scott’s office and 20 minute drive from home). This all adds up. And so far the care at PAMF has been superb. So, although I might have been leaning towards Stanford late last week, I’m now leaning the other direction. But, tomorrow will tell. I may get to Stanford and feel that everything is right there … I am happy to know that I have choices, as choice means that I have some sense of control (I’m a control freak) … and with so much of this, I don’t have any control. So, I’ll take what I can get!

    And now, it is definitely time for a good nights sleep …

     

  • Impostor syndrome (no longer)

    This morning it occurred to me that what I was feeling was what we call in PhD land, impostor syndrome. This hits most often when you first begin your PhD – the idea that you do not belong, you are a faker in this community. I have struggled with it at various times throughout my PhD.

    I was feeling that way this morning. Without a confirmed pathology, I felt like a faker. I felt like I wasn’t really someone with breast cancer. What would happen if it turned out I didn’t have cancer? (frankly, the large lump in my breast was pretty convincing) What if it is just a minor cancer, then am I overreacting? Am I an impostor?

    I went out for a bike ride, and I was thinking about this post. The idea of it occurred to me just before I went out.

    I got home and hopped in the shower. My phone must have rung while I was in the shower. I had a phone call from the surgeon. The initial pathology is back – it confirms cancer. There isn’t much known yet – only that it is a grade 3 invasive ductal carcinoma (IDC). I am glad that I get results quickly – as soon as they are available – as that allows me to process the new information in small chunks as it arrives. Each new chunk of information allows me to reflect on it to digest it before the next chunk comes in …

css.php