My Cancer Story

In March 2016 I received a letter in the mail reminding me to make an appointment for my yearly mammogram.  I had been having routine mammograms every year since I turned 40, so this was just another appointment I needed to make and take time for in my busy life of being a wife, mom to four kids, fulfilling a new calling in my church, and teaching part time at our local university.  I’ll admit, I put off making the appointment.  I was busy, and honestly, what was the mammogram going to tell me?  The radiologist was going to say everything is normal, see you next year, so I stuck the letter in a stack of papers and forgot about it.  I WAS going to make an appointment eventually, that was for sure, because my beautiful mother gave me a piece of advice when I was younger.  She said, “Kara, when you turn 40 you need to get a mammogram every year. Get a mammogram.”  I always do what my mom tells me to do.

In April I was cleaning the house and ran across a stack of papers and found the letter reminding me about scheduling a mammogram.  I was coming up on a break in between semesters and thought that this would be an opportune time to make an appointment. It was more than a thought, really, I believe it was a prompting for me to schedule a mammogram.  I felt a bit of urgency.  Mammogram day came and went and I patted myself on the back for getting it done.  Over the week break from school I was enjoying a beautiful spring day working in the yard with my husband and I received a phone call from the radiologist office saying I needed to come back to get some more views taken.  Okay, that has never happened before, but alright.  I go in, with my husband this time, and get the images taken and nurse asks us to wait for the radiologist because he wants to speak with us.  He proceeds to tell us that the images from my mammogram this year have significantly changed since last year.  What does that mean?  Well, for 65% of women it doesn’t really mean anything, but just to make sure we want you to have a biopsy to see if it is or is not cancer.  Cancer…..

I went the next day for a biopsy.  The radiologist went into great detail about how a biopsy is preformed, but for the sake of a long boring description, I will shorten it a bit. Back in the day, a patient who needed a breast biopsy would be put asleep during the procedure.  Now, they just numb the area to be biopsied and take the tissue samples needed.  No big deal.  I had two areas in my left breast that needed to be biopsied.  Though it was not exactly fun, I will take this kind of biopsy over being put asleep any day.   The biopsy was on a Thursday and we had to wait until Monday to get results back from my doctor.  That was a long weekend.  My husband and I told my parents on Sunday night about everything that was going on, and of course they were very upset.  As we talked, I rattled off some statistics that the radiologist had told us and was trying to be positive and hopeful that these masses that were found in my breast were benign. 

Monday came and almost went when I received a phone call from my doctor’s office asking us to come in because the doctor wanted to speak with us.  My heart sank a little.  Why couldn’t he just tell us the good news over the phone?  You know, I am totally fine with that.  Nope, we need to go in.  When we arrived, Chris and I were escorted into a room.  The doctor comes in and sits pretty much as far away from us as he could, then proceeds to tell us that the test results show that I have breast cancer…. All of these questions start running through my head.  What does that mean exactly?  I am starting a new semester teaching two classes tomorrow, am I going to be able to teach?  I feel normal. I am only 45 years old, what are you saying?  I have breast cancer?   I remember him explaining and saying words like surgery, lumpectomy, and mastectomy.  He told me acronyms like DCIS and others that I had no idea what he was talking about.  I only heard BREAST CANCER ringing in my ears.  My next thoughts were about my kids and how were they going to take this news?  How are Chris and I going to tell them that I had cancer?  I felt sick inside.  We left the doctor’s office and got into the car and I lost it.  I bawled, big ugly, huge tears bawling.  Crying like I have never cried before.  Sitting in the car with my husband that day was one of the lowest points of my life.  I have never felt so sad and scared as when I was told that I had breast cancer.

Following my diagnosis there was a flurry of tests and appointments with my oncologist, surgeon and plastic surgeon.  It was a hurry up, get all the tests done as quickly as possible and then wait.  It was excruciating. We waited, and waited, and waited for test results. It was a very difficult time.  Throughout the waiting period it was discussed that I would, at the very least, have a mastectomy on the breast that had cancer.  After the test results telling us that the chance of cancer occurring in my right breast was high, the decision to have a bilateral or double mastectomy was made.  My breasts would be removed.  I still couldn’t believe it, it was so strange.  This happens to other people and to other families, not mine.  That was a pretty naïve point of view.  Since my diagnosis, I have been humbled by the stories of MANY, MANY women who have gone through this hell.  I must say that I have truly felt a spiritual side to all of this.  Maybe that is why I feel compelled to write down and share my experience.  Before my mammogram I didn’t feel any lumps, I didn’t have any pain, there was no indication that I had anything wrong with me.  I was prompted by the Holy Ghost to make an appointment, NOW, to get a mammogram.  Following that prompting saved my life, or at the very least prolonged it.  I was diagnosed with DCIS breast cancer on April 18^th 2016.  

On June 29^th 2016, I had bilateral mastectomy surgery to remove my cancer.  With my surgeons and oncologist, Chris and I decided that I would have what is called immediate reconstruction.  At first, this nomenclature is a little misleading.  Immediate reconstruction consists of tissue expanders inserted under the chest muscle which ‘holds a place’ for the actual implants.  The expanders are then, over a few months, filled with saline to stretch the muscle to make space for the implants.   My tissue expanders and I have a love hate relationship, they are hard and uncomfortable and shaped funny.  I don’t like them very much, but I need them to be there.

We had an appointment with my surgeon a week and a day after my mastectomy and I was feeling good and positive about how my recovery was going.  We walk in the office and he says that he is confident that all of the cancer was removed.  The margins look good, everything looks good, but there is some news.  Pathology found five undetected tumors in my tissue, unrelated to my DCIS, two of which were invasive.  Before my surgery, my left breast was filled with cancer.   What did you just say?  What are you talking about?  What do you mean there were five tumors we didn’t know about?  Invasive?  That was not a part of any of my diagnosis thus far, I don’t understand.  I honestly don’t remember what all he said after the tumor conversation, but I do remember with perfect clarity when he told me not to be surprised when my oncologist recommends chemotherapy just to make sure that all of the cancer cells will be gone.  I left his office just as sad and confused as the day I was told I had cancer.  For three days I mourned the news about needing to have chemo.  I was only supposed to have surgery and reconstruction and that would be it.  No chemo, no radiation.  I DID NOT WANT CHEMO!  I would lose my strength, my appetite, my hair.  Not my hair!  I love my long hair.  I have had long, beautiful hair for over 25 years and I didn’t want to lose it.  And to top it all off, I would be losing my hair just when my oldest daughter would be coming home from being gone for over 18 months serving a mission for our church.  I wanted to look like me when she comes home.  But that was not the plan and I was devastated.

 

A little side note about my missionary daughter, Eden.  Throughout all of this she has been a rock and has strengthened my faith and hope.  I told her at the beginning of her mission that she is my hero.  I looked to her when things got hard for me knowing that she herself is doing hard things, and I can have the strength to do hard things too.  She has taught me many things over the last 18 months she has been gone.  I have missed her so much, especially since my diagnosis.

I have gained strength from my other family members, friends and neighbors as well.  Our children at home have been so great to help out and be there for me when I needed them.  I have been surrounded by friends and people who care for my family and me.  I am truly blessed and humbled by the love, all of the love.   Angels have been sent to me from heaven.   Chris has been by my side every step of the way.  He has been to every doctor’s appointment, slept in my tiny hospital room because I didn’t want to be alone with a less-than-nice night nurse, given me my meds, and pretty much attended to my every need.  I love my husband, my angel.  My parents have been fantastic!  They both came and stayed with us for two weeks while I had my first surgery and recovery.  They took such great care of my family and me while they were here and continue to care for me.  I love them, they are my angels. “C….” is one of my best friends and just so happens to be a wonderful oncology nurse.  After my parents, she is the one who I told first.  She has answered so many questions with patience and care. I love her, she is my angel. 

     

I started chemotherapy treatments on August 8, 2016.  I will have 6 rounds of chemo and then continue Herceptin infusions for a year.  Each treatment is three weeks apart.  This will be a big part of my life and I have accepted it.  I feel blessed.  I have felt our Heavenly Fathers and Savior’s love for me throughout this trial.  I have felt peace in times of pain, strength in times of uncertainty, and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the knowledge I have been given of their love for me. I have hope and faith that I will be healed.  I already am.