Being a military spouse, you become used to trips, trainings and TDYs. So when my husband, Brian, needed to go to a conference last March, it was business as usual: rush to the airport, hugs and kisses by the car, "fly safe," and "call me when you land." We didn't talk much that night; I had a cranky three year old and Brian had early meetings.
When I finally went to bed, I rolled over and felt a twinge in my right breast. I palpated a lump, the size of two orange slices, radiating from my nipple to my armpit. I palpated the left side for comparison, and then the right side again. And again.
I was referred for a mammogram the morning Brian was due to fly in. He would meet me at the hospital, and we'd grab lunch together. I mean, I was 34 years old ... what did I have to worry about? The mammogram showed abnormal patterns of cells and calcification. They wanted to to a biopsy. That morning. It was all so surreal: my mom and sister crying with me on the phone, my brother's and Brian's stunned silence.
Brian arrived after my biopsy and I wanted him to see the scans. After seeing it in black and white, the radiologist said "I am 90% certain this is cancer. If I were a betting woman, I'd put money on it in Vegas."
Final pathology results after my bilateral mastectomy in April showed invasive ductal carcinoma with coexisting DCIS. The tumor was 12 cm, high nuclear grade, ER and PR positive, and positive for metastatic carcinoma to 23 of 31 lymphnodes removed. With the help of my family and friends I made it through 16 rounds of chemo and 28 days of radiation. I am scheduled for TRAM flap reconstruction on Feb 18. Once recovered, Brian and I will start training for our first marathon. Together, as a family.
We did it. I survived. I never surrendered.
Sparta, WI