The Day I Met Cancer in the Mirror

My Name is Kelly

My name is Kelly. Two of my older brothers call me Kel, which I think is cool, but I usually go by Kelly. Either name is fine with me.

I was diagnosed with lobular carcinoma in my right breast in July 2015. The diagnosis did not bring fear or dread as you might think, it brought relief. Here is my story of the day I met cancer in the mirror.

The Lump

I felt a painful lump, and I started to see changes in the shape of my right breast. The radiologist interpreted the mammogram I had the year prior as negative for cancer. I had fibrocystic breast disease, so my breasts were often sore and lumpy. The difference is that this lump did not stop hurting as all the prior lumps had. This lump was more painful than the others had been, and it began to increase in size.

I also noticed that the shape of my breast was beginning to change. As I looked at my breast in the mirror, no matter which way I turned the lump was obvious and my breast was misshapen.

I Realized What Was Going On

I called my primary care physician to get a mammogram ordered. He ordered a diagnostic mammogram, which is a more thorough test, instead of a just screening mammogram. I also had an ultrasound of my breast done because something showed up on the mammogram, as I suspected it would.

I Know I Have Breast Cancer

The radiologist came into my room with a look of dread on her face after the tests were completed. She introduced herself, but she didn’t have to tell me the diagnosis — I already knew it.

I said to her, “I already know I have breast cancer.”

The look on her face changed to relief mixed with confusion. “How do you know you have breast cancer?”

“I’ve been waiting to be told I have cancer ever since my mom died of breast cancer,” I said. (Read: The Day Cancer Turned Pink).

An overwhelming sense of relief came over me. Finally, I could start treatments and defeat the demon that had held me captive for so many years.

She Confirmed the Diagnosis

She confirmed the diagnosis. I told her I wanted to see the mammogram images from the previous year. She took me into her office and showed me the two sets of images from the year prior and the current year, side by side. I didn’t see any difference, except that the defect was now larger. She said that if she had interpreted the images the previous year that she would have had me come back in for more testing.

It Didn’t Matter

This year, that year, it didn’t matter. I had breast cancer. It was finally here. My mother had died of breast cancer twenty-four years earlier, and now it was my turn to go through cancer. I am typically an optimistic person, but when she died of cancer, I just knew that I too would have cancer someday.

I didn’t contemplate getting cancer with a feeling of fear and doom. It was more like waiting expectantly. Like the feeling of anticipation you get when you watch a scary movie that you’ve seen before and yet your heart still races when the villain appears and tries to wreak havoc on the victim. You know it’s coming; you just don’t know when.

Now I had cancer, and I was relieved. I had held my breath for twenty-four years waiting to be diagnosed with breast cancer, and now that I had it, I could let out my breath. The day was here and now I could start getting treatment instead of living in dread of “someday”.

I Saw Lightning Bolts Shoot from My Nipple

The doctor did a biopsy to determine what kind of cancer I had. Up until this point, I didn’t realize there were different kinds of breast cancer, and that they are treated differently.

The radiologist injected numbing medicine into my right breast. This only numbed the skin and the tissue just under the skin, not down to the tumor. She inserted a biopsy needle into the tumor, then used suction to draw the tissue into the needle for samples to be sent to the lab to be biopsied.

FIVE TIMES.

Ouch!

As I said, the numbing medicine deadened the skin where she inserted the needle, but not the tissue deep inside my breast where the tumor was. I went home with an ice pack on my breast. But…

After more testing, I needed to have a biopsy of my left breast because something showed up on the MRI.

Oh boy, here we go again. But I knew what to expect, so it wouldn’t be so bad this time, right?

Nope.

This time when the radiologist injected the numbing medicine, I’m sure I saw lightning bolts shoot from my nipple!

“Oh, the needle must have been close to a nerve,” she said.

The rest of the procedure was somewhat tolerable. No more lightning bolts.

I Decided Not to Take Any More Chemo

I went through four months of chemotherapy. I received one treatment every two weeks. I took all but the last treatment.

I decided even before I went in for treatment that day that I would not take any more chemo. I had already lost all my hair from the side effects of chemo, which I was prepared for, and gained weight from the steroids I had to take, which I was not prepared for. But when my fingertips became numb, that is when I decided not to take any more chemo.

When my mother went through chemo for breast cancer, she had developed numbness in her fingertips which caused her to have to give up her favorite hobby of sewing. She couldn’t do the one thing she enjoyed most in life because she could no longer feel the needle in her fingers. I believe that was the day she began to lose hope of ever being cured of cancer.

I am a nurse, and I would not be able to start IVs when I got back to work if I couldn’t feel the needle in my fingers. I saw what happened to my mom and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. I didn’t want to give up the job I love because I couldn’t do it anymore.

To my relief, when I saw the oncologist that day, he decided to stop the chemo treatments even before I could tell him that I wasn’t going to take any more.

Next Came Surgery

One month after I completed chemotherapy, I had a double mastectomy. I chose not to have reconstruction. Two nurses I worked with had also had breast cancer. One had reconstruction (breast implants), and one did not. I talked to each of them, and my husband of course, and decided against reconstructive surgery.

Two reasons I decided against the implants include that it may be harder to detect if cancer returns. Also, I did not want artificial material in my body.

I have never regretted my decision.

Then Radiation

A month after I had surgery, I began radiation treatments Monday through Friday for six weeks. I told the radiation oncologist before I started treatments that my mom had received such severe burns from radiation that she had to undergo hyperbaric oxygen therapy treatments to help heal the wounds. The oncologist assured me that the newer technology for radiation delivery versus the way they used to do treatments had changed greatly.

Severe Burns

I only had to have radiation to my right chest and underarm area. The incision from the mastectomy surgery began to open because the radiation caused delayed wound healing. The incision hadn’t completely healed yet, so it started to separate. The radiation burned my chest and underarm area severely. I had to do treatments on the wounds twice a day for weeks until they healed. After the wounds healed, the radiation oncologist admitted that my wounds were the worst she had ever seen from radiation burns.

I felt fortunate because my burns were nowhere near as bad as my mom’s burns were. The best part of the burns was that I never felt them because my chest was still numb from the mastectomy surgery.

The Hardest Part

The hardest part of cancer treatments for me was not the severe nausea I had from chemotherapy, not the body image changes from losing all my hair, not the loss of my breasts, and not even the severe burns I received from the radiation treatments.

The hardest part was the strain it all put on my husband. He went with me to every appointment, every treatment, and every surgery. He has numerous health issues of his own, so the strain of what I was going through was exhausting for him.

Not to mention what he was experiencing emotionally. His grandmother had died of cancer, both of my parents had died of cancer. Was I going to die too?

As you can tell, because I am writing this blog, I did not die.

I was a new nurse when my dad went through metastatic colon cancer. (Read: The Day Colon Cancer Turned Royal Blue). Soon after he died, I had to do a shift in the cancer unit. I was an anxious, nervous mess. I couldn’t wait for the shift to end. I never wanted to do any kind of nursing that involved cancer patients. I assumed they were all going to die.

But I survived cancer. I proved my younger self wrong. Not everyone dies from cancer.

I Had a Porcupine on My Head

Because of what I went through during my cancer journey, I now want to help cancer patients and their loved ones turn the chaos of cancer care into clarity. I was told what cancer treatments I was going to receive, but no one could tell me what it would be like to go through treatments.

For instance, the nurse told me that I was going to lose all my hair from chemo. I did not realize I would lose my eyelashes too. As a result of having no eyelashes, there was nothing to collect the tears when my eyes teared, so the tears dripped down my face frequently. I had to dab my eyes with a cloth often. Very often in fact. Like from the top of the staircase to midway down the stairs, dab, to the bottom of the stairs, dab, dab.

Also, I knew that I was going to lose my hair, but I did not realize that it would feel like I had a porcupine on my head when it came back in. The short stubble was coarse and stuck straight out. When I would lie my head on a pillow, it felt like a thousand porcupine quills poking my scalp.

Before my cancer experience, I did not want anything to do with cancer patients. My father, my mother, and my grandmother-in-law all died of cancer. Cancer meant death to me.

I Survived Cancer

That is until I survived cancer. Now I want to help as many cancer patients and their loved ones as I can to navigate the cancer journey. The journey is long and hard, and it does not always turn out the way we hope it will. That is why I want to give my fellow cancer patients encouragement, information, and support to help them face the unknown of cancer care with knowledge and hope.

Cancerversary

Some people celebrate their recovery from cancer. Some folks observe their cancerversary, like an anniversary, every year. I have not celebrated my cancerversary yet. I consider my cancerversary the day I finished with radiation treatments because that was the last step in ridding my body of this disease.

I wanted to celebrate with my dear friend Amanda by going to a day spa (something I have never done) and being pampered for a day. But I couldn’t celebrate.

The next day after I finished radiation treatments, Amanda started chemotherapy for triple-negative breast cancer. She too had a double mastectomy and radiation treatments. But cancer eventually won her battle. I miss her terribly. (Read: The Day Cancer Turned Pink…Again)

Ask Questions

What advice would I give to a newly diagnosed cancer patient?

Ask questions. Remember, those who are on your care team have helped many patients through cancer, but this is your first time going through it. What may be routine for your caregivers is not routine for you and they understand this. Feel free to ask any questions you need to help you be a good participant in your care.

One thing I wish I had asked more questions about was what activity I should be involved in after my mastectomy surgery. I kept my arms close to my sides to avoid pulling on the incisions. As a result, I became very stiff, and it took me a long time, and a lot of physical therapy, to regain complete mobility in my arms and chest. As it turns out, I should have been doing gentle range of motion movements soon after my surgery to remain limber.

I would recommend to anyone going through surgery, or any cancer treatment, to be sure to get information on what you should do, as well as what not to do, to help yourself heal and maintain the highest level of health even while going through treatments and afterward.

This is what happened to me when I met cancer in the mirror.

Comment below about the day you met cancer.

Wishing you all the best,

Kelly

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Yes, I am a nurse. No, I am not your nurse. The medical topics discussed in this, or any article on this site, are intended to be issues for you to discuss with your medical team if you feel they apply to you. None of the information you are about to read in this article is treatment advice for you from me. I do not have that authority.