Category Archives: Bumpboobs

Screening and Screaming (i.e. frusteration)

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs by

Today was a heavier day, and not just because of this heat. Every six months, now moving forward to every year, it’s scan time. This morning I had a mammogram, and I was meant to also have an ultrasound.

Anyhow. We go to the hospital. They squish my breast till I’m standing at the machine (as the nurse move it ever so much tighter, and tighter, and tighter) making rude faces at the wall. But apart from the ridiculous compression of flesh, it goes smoothly.

It should be said that I’m not crazy for mammograms mainly because I’m only thrity (in about 2 weeks), and to receive this sort of scan every year, with all that radiation, really annoys me. I was hoping very much that ultrasounds would be an alternative to the mammogram.

Except after I get the mam done, the radiologist tells me he doesn’t want to do the ultrasound. He thoroughly believes that ultra sound screening produces too many false positives, and he’d have to do a biopsy, and I’d be left on ‘stand by’ (monitored) for six months at a time for years to come.

“But if you really want to do it, we can do it.”

Not. He didn’t really mean that. You should have seen his face when I said, “Well why don’t we just do it?” It was a ,”not a good idea” kinda face. And maybe he’s right?

I became an emotional puddle. (Darn tootin’ emotions! They make it impossible for me to express any words except for, “sorry,” which I shouldn’t even be in that situation.) Zsolt started asking questions about lymph nodes and such, and the doctor was answering his questions. So a mammogram, of course, is a reasonable way to screen . . . not perfect, but I suppose less false positives than an ultrasoun. Fine.

But I don’t want to be shot with radiation for forty some years in an area that I already know is sensitive to cancer. I just don’t want to do it – even this incidence was a twist of the arm following my oncologists request to get “at least one mammogram.”

Anyhow. The radiologist said that MRIs would really be the best option, if I have an overall lifetime risk of breast cancer that is greater than 25%. (i.e. we can’t justify spending the money otherwise.) Fuck. You know what the oncologist in England told me about my more immediate odds (as I made the decision to do chemotherapy), he said I had about 50% chance of not having reoccurrence if I had the treatment.  Of course, that number changes over time . . . but right now, I’m really pissed about the 25% lifetime crap when I had breast cancer in my body and lymph nodes only two damn years ago. And I know we all face this screening abyss, and I’m not entirely sure if I have a right to be so annoyed, but I am. So there.

Right. Bright side of things: I learned a lesson today. My options as a young woman aren’t fabulous in terms of breast cancer screening. I need to become more proactive in choosing my screening, even I need to pay for it myself.

Oh Geez – even brighter side! I didn’t get my results, but the radiologist looked at my mammogram and didn’t order any additional tests, which I take as an awesome sign. Next day or two I’ll call the doctor for the official reading of the correspondence between specialists (results). It’s not really stressing me out, because if he’d seen a lump, I’m sure the ultrasound (to a specific area) would have been done. I suppose it was just such a frustrating feeling, being told I didn’t have the power to choose my screening, that really left me in such a lurch today.

That being said, there has to be a better way. Mammograms for decade upon decade? There just has to be a better way.

(And I’m not going back to ask again for an ultrasound. I do believe that the mammogram is enough, but that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t think it’s the healthiest option for a woman at my age in terms of long-term health. Maybe I’m wrong, but going forward I’d really love to explore other options, whatever those may be.)

The Peacock Perspective

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life, Love by

This  has been a week of notables – those dates that get bookmarked into life for better or worse. From my three year wedding anniversary (May 29th), to two years since finding that blasted bump (May 31st) and coming up to the date of diagnosis (June 6th), date of mastectomy, husband’s birthday, my birthday (turning 30) and pushing forward across the summer. We talk a lot about these markers here in the blogosphere . . . and to be honest, the good and the bad have this way of mixing together in associations – a pain in the ass mentality I’m trying to kick but have yet to master.

[Our wedding anniversary in particular is a bit tricky since I was diagnosed so shortly after my first wedding anniversary . . . one day we were celebrating on the Isle of Wight and I was a little worried about this bump in my breast, the next week (or so) I was being told it was cancer and the breast was going to be removed. Sigh.]

But yesterday evening was a particular day to be noted in this past week.

Let me tell you why: it involved another wedding.

Not mine of course, but a friend who dates back to my high school days of debating and hanging about in the corridor between classes. Nearly everyone of that old crowd was there, it was this huge party with great food, good outfits (Is it really possible that we all look this good ten years after highschool? Apparetly!), open bar, and music galore. The groom was handsome in his black tuxedo, the bride was stunning in her short & playful gown that shaped her like the ultimate hour glass  (plus those stunning fuchsia heels). They were so happy. They are so in love.

And that’s why I got married in the first place – it had nothing to do with cancer. It was because we were so happy, and so darn tootin’ in love. It was because we were going to stick together through better or worse and give that solidity to our commitment that somehow comes from a marriage.

We’re still so happy, still so darn tooin’ in love. We are sticking together through thick and thin, we are solid in our commitment and know it will see us through the transitions.

And that’s all darn good stuff. My wedding anniversary shouldn’t be tainted with cancer fears and hospital flashbacks. It should be dosed with certainties that Zsolt and I are a team, we make it together, and I’m really lucky to have someone who is determined to grow old with me. It should be a day to celebrate this awesome advantage we have in the fight against bad health, low income, displacement. I’m talking about LOVE here, people.

A good girlfriend of mine was in town for the wedding. She was amazing when I was diagnosed & went through treatment – doing those little things that matter like asking how I was, writing an occasional message, following my blog. . . (For me, I do not forget the people who made an effort during those times. Starting with a simple, ‘how are you’  to writing letters/emails, paying visits, keeping company . . . they are heroic in my mind because each of their efforts rescued a little piece of my sanity.)

Anyhow, she is a good friend. As the evening rolled on (open bar!) and the music played and we shifted from the dance floor to the lobby to the parking lot (why, I don’t know . . . apparently someone was dropping off beer), to the lobby to the dance floor, to the sidelines . . . we all loosened up and had the chance to get in some lovely bonding.

This is what she said to me – she told me that I’d kinda inspired her, like if I could get through all that crap, she could take on her own challenges too. She reckons we ought to live our prefered lives because it doesn’t go on forever, and so long as we hurt no one else we ought to do what makes us happy. (As you can see she’s a smart cookie.) For her, that happiness is an incredible peacock tattoo that covers her back from shoulder to bum – she loves it completely, and one part of her (just one part, because she’s a strong woman to start and certainly doesn’t need my help in summoning determination) pulled a little courage from my story. From this story here on Bumpyboobs.

“If you can go through that, I could handle this” and so she did something that brings her deep joy.

Isn’t that amazing? Yeah, it’s freaking amazing.

You know what? Here is another date to remember: May 31st 2010, the day Bumpyboobs came into existence. Sure, it was because of hard things like fear . . . but it was also about comfort, sharing, and finding strength.

Bumpyboobs is a good thing. It’s not just about cancer. It’s about pushing to love and live as much life as possible.

So while the end of May and start of June are littered with difficult dates . . . it’s also a time of wonderful accomplishments, starting first with my marriage, followed by this blog (contributing in part to that AMAZING tattoo on her back), and rolling over toward our birthdays where we celebrate being alive.

Yesterday’s wedding helped me realize a lot (in between the dancing and tinging of glasses for the bride & groom to kiss), and I really appreciate my friend opening up in that way – saying things that are often left unsaid simply because they are too emotional.

It was good. The whole thing was good. And today,  apart from the post-party exhaustion, I feel really freaking good.

 

What is your picture?

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, Life, Love, moving to canada, self growth, Travel Log by

Today is a post in response to Marie from ‘Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer’, who found the idea from Jen of ‘Keep the Calm’. The challenge is to post a photograph of yourself (or something that represents you) which captures the ‘you’ of the past little while.

So this is my photograph. It’s so peaceful looking and calm, but in reality we were travelling across Hungary in the backseat of a car, and I was trying not to vomit from the motion sickness. Zsolt thought I looked pretty. 🙂 And I think so too, in my no-longer-nauseous reflection on the photograph.

But that’s not why I chose this photograph. The past six months . . . okay, the past NINE months (gag!) have been both wonderful and difficult. We are searching for ‘the big break’ in terms of careers & living on our own (cause yes, we’re still with my parents), feeling as though we haven’t settled, desperate, once again, to find a sense of home. And yet I am home with my family – something I’ve lacked for many years. We can get together for dinner, go for tea, share a beautiful day . . .

Both wonderful and difficult. All the while, I’m there in the back of that car waiting for resolution. With little bursts of success like my freelancing (at the detriment to my creative writing) and Zsolt’s consulting, we move forward. We are moving forward. I am saturated in the family I’ve been missing so much. Things are good. Things are a little hard.

But what you don’t know is at the end of this car ride we pulled up to a home where there were dogs in the yard, pigs in the pen, chicken running round, and a family with open hearts and tables filled with food. The good stuff exists (and much of it is already here), so I can tolerate this ‘ in-between’ness, because I’m certain it won’t last forever.

(Though displacement does appear to arrive in waves. That is the life of a person who travels, home is where the heart is . . . except we leave bits of our hearts wherever we go.)

Would you like to join the challenge? Post a photograph of yourself, or something that represents you, and let us know the story (or don’t since a picture is already speaking at least a thousand words). You can post the link here, or on Marie or Jen’s pages. I’m sure we’d all love to see.

Take care,

Catherine