Many Challenges, Countless Gratitude

Many Challenges, Countless Gratitude

        It was ten years ago, March 2014, that I happened to feel a small bump on my right breast. At first, I thought it was just a muscle, or a vein, or something else insignificant. Every few hours I checked, and as my fingers stroked that spot, I began to feel a bit more troubled. The next day, a Monday morning, I contacted my gynecologist’s office just to allay my fears, and have it checked out. 

        Upon my doctor’s examination, he verbally spoke unalarming words, although I did detect a somewhat concern look on his face. Even though he thought it might be “nothing”, he sent me for a mammogram the next day. I had already had my annual mammogram three months prior, which had revealed normal results. 

        This time, the mammogram disclosed questionable results. I was then given an ultrasound. Lying on the examination table during the procedure, my worry seemed to grow exponentially with every passing minute.  When the technician left the room to deliver the test results for the radiologist to evaluate, I sat contemplating the possibilities I might be confronting when the radiologist would soon join me to discuss his findings. Those ten or so minutes until the radiologist came into the room where I was seated, felt like hours. His report to me was that the small lump I had been feeling, was a tumor, and probably breast cancer. He further clarified that a biopsy was needed to confirm his diagnosis. Although his manner was gentle as he spoke those words, internally I was feeling outraged. 

        I was then referred to a surgeon, one of most compassionate doctors I have ever encountered, to perform the biopsy. Prior to executing the test, this doctor had already informed me that he was quite certain that it was indeed cancer. The biopsy would reveal the type of breast cancer I would now be victim to, therefore determining my treatment options. 

        Days later, back in his office, the results were explained to me, and my dear devoted sister. I was given a choice of a mastectomy, or a lumpectomy only if I would choose to endure chemotherapy and radiation. I chose the latter. Little did I truly comprehend what exactly that choice would involve. 

        It was a few days later that I had my first of many appointments with an oncologist. I will refer to him as Dr. B to safeguard his privacy. With my sister sitting in a chair by my side, Dr. B began to explain a plan of action to fight the malignant tumor. To this day, his words echo in my ears all the time. I have never forgotten him looking straight at me, with the most serious of expressions, saying, “I have to make you very sick, in order to make you better.” A few seconds of silence followed, before he asked if I was willing to do what was necessary to fight the disease. I responded with a simple, “yes”. 

        And so, it began. I was scheduled for 6 rounds of very toxic chemotherapy, with one round every 3 weeks. After that concluded, I would have a lumpectomy, followed by many sessions of radiation therapy. That was the plan.

        Accompanied by my sister, I was shown the infusion room, given instructions, and prescriptions to be filled in order to prepare for the first infusion, as soon as a port was surgically implanted in my chest to receive the chemicals to the attack the cancerous tumor. Dr. B gently alerted me to the fact that I would begin to lose my shoulder length hair, 2 to 3 weeks after the first infusion. His explanations were delivered in such a caring manner, that I could not even react with the enormous irritation that this news deserved. It was a lot to digest. 

        My sister and I left this hematology office, emotionally drained. I knew she was going to support me every step of the way. I also felt that Dr. B had methodically strategized a plan of action that might, just might, keep me on course to restore my health, eventually. As the weeks passed, the infusions took their toll on me. The fatigue began to increase day by day. My hairdresser had assisted me with the selection of 2 wigs, and he styled them to the contours of my face. He initially cut my long hair into a short sassy hairdo to help with the eventual falling out of all my hair. That first morning when the hairs fell out onto my brush, I was thrown into the reality of realizing the full extent of my condition, and the uncertainty of whether I had a future. Still, I managed to get dressed every day, pairing a lovely head scarf to match my outfits, covering my hair loss when I was not donning a wig. I refused to succumb to despair. Soon after, I was too tired to contemplate anything. I would have two or three good days after an infusion, then I was exhausted most of the day resting on the couch for a week, and when I began to feel better, it was time to undergo the next infusion, and experience additional unpleasant side effects. My sister stayed at my home taking care of me, sat by my side at the infusions, and I knew she was so worried all the time.

        When all this was unfolding, and the intensity of treatment became debilitating, my sister’s husband was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. I was midway through my chemo by then. Dr. B began taking care of him as well. He had chemotherapy and also radiation. His prognosis was not great. Our focus had to be shifted. How my sister was able to muster the strength to take care of him, and still involve herself with my care, is a mystery. Her dogged determination to handle her husband’s needs, while still remaining highly supportive of my challenges was phenomenal. This was an awful time for our little family. Besides my medical situation, I was also silently dealing with the guilt of having a somewhat better prognosis than my brother-in-law. 

        In his office, Dr. B, completely aware of the situation, met with me many times to explain both my and my brother-in-law’s, medical situations, and offered much comfort to me, before I went into the infusion room for my treatment. Patients, like myself, not only have physical difficulties, but also emotional issues during this problematic stage of uncertainty.

        My respect and admiration for my oncologist grew every day during my journey. His expertise, and generously kind manner is what got me through some of the darkest days of my life. By the end of my rounds of chemo, my tumor had disappeared from view on an ultrasound. The gratitude I had for Dr. B after those results were read, was indeed enormous and life affirming.

        Two weeks later, with all the chemo infusions now behind me, I was ready to meet the surgeon who would perform my lumpectomy. Dr. T was very cordial at that first office visit. He had read my medical records, and was quite pleased by the results the treatment delivered. In September of 2014, I was scheduled for the surgery. Dr. T removed tissue where the tumor had been located, along with 5 lymph nodes to be sure nothing had spread. All went well.  A week later, back in his office as a follow-up from the procedure, Dr. T read the finalized pathology report. I was sitting on the exam table, and he looked up at me, then pointed his finger towards the floor. Then he said, “kiss the ground, you are now cancer free.” Then we both just smiled at each other. It was difficult to absorb this stunning news, at last. Dr. T was about to retire, and he told me that he was so happy to be ending his career on a positive note, with a patient that had my wonderful results. How grateful I felt to have had this skillful surgeon to operate on me. 

        After the lumpectomy, radiation therapy began in mid-October. My radiologist, Dr. W, and I met again, as I had first met him when my brother-in-law began radiation treatments. He was also a genuinely caring man. I would soon begin my 35 sessions, traveling to the Radiology Department every day, Monday through Friday. This was my new routine. This was how my life was defined. The up side was that it seemed like a walk in the park, in comparison to the long hours in the infusion room, and the sick feelings that followed the chemo. Dr. W always greeted me with a smile, and offered encouraging words. By now, my sister was tending to her husband’s much needed care around the clock. I went to each session alone. 

        The day when my radiation sessions were finally completed, in early December 2014, Dr. W and a few of the technicians that had administered the radiation, accompanied me back to the waiting room, for the milestone “end of treatment ringing of the bell”.  It symbolizes the end of the agony of chemo and radiation. With Dr. W at my side, I rang the bell, and with somewhat teary eyes, I recited the poem, Ringing Out by Irv Le Moyne.

Ring this bell

Three times well

Its toll to clearly say

My treatment is done

This course is run

And I am on my way.

Dr. W embraced me with an all-encompassing hug, wished me well, and I thanked him not only for all he had done for me, but also for his complete devotion to my brother-in-law’s critical care. I felt an enormous amount of gratitude that day, leaving the Radiation Department, for hopefully the last time ever. 

         Even though in time my surgical scar slowly diminished, the entire experience of my cancer journey remains monumental in my mind. It changed my life in many ways. The gratitude I felt for my extremely skilled physicians was immense. I felt, and still feel so fortunate to have been in their exceptional care. Sadly, my brother-in-law passed away in August of 2015. I struggled for a while about being the survivor, and grieved for my sister’s loss of her beloved husband. But I am also so privileged, and grateful to have my sister beside me to this day. We are very close, and both have an appreciation for the gift of life we now continue to enjoy.

        There are many other individuals I am grateful for, which includes not only dear physicians, but all the members of medical teams that helped administer to my care. Also, my hairdresser who met me with every hair challenge, and made me feel attractive at every stage of hair loss, and regrowth.  Many friends, and neighbors, showered me with flowers, and various gifts during my treatment to lift my spirits during my very challenging personal struggles.  And also felt was a unique feeling of gratitude for a special man, whose affection and love for me, never altered during my journey.

        I was, and still am overwhelmed with complete gratitude for all the kindhearted people in my life, then and now.

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