Cher's Story: Blindsided by Cancer
Cher is a Breastcancer.org Community member in Cincinatti, Ohio, USA.
The ladies in my family live forever. Not forever, of course, but very long and fruitful lives. My mother was 94, her mother was 92, my great grandmother was over a 100, my mom's sisters, 80's and 90's. The thought of breast cancer never entered my simple mind. I had great genes.
No, I wasn't a faithful mammogram follower but I did have them. Nothing was ever there except "dense tissue." I am fortunate that I spend most of my year living at the beach; lots of swimsuits and lots of showers. I had been recovering from COVID and felt a sore spot under my arm that I had not noticed before – wrote it off as swollen lymph node from COVID. Two weeks later, it is still there, bigger and sorer. In my heart of hearts I knew right then what it was but, truly, it could still not be me. I was jumping to conclusions, being overly dramatic. I didn't tell a soul.
I made an appointment at Bay Health in St. Pete, went for a mammogram. They learned of the sore node and skipped the traditional mammogram and did an ultrasound. The next day a biopsy of the nodes and two days later, the call: it is breast cancer. After much conversation, they kindly told me to pack my bags and go back to Cincinatti where I had two daughters and lots of other friends and family for support. I was still sure it was nothing, all of this drama for nothing.
My daughter, an ICU nurse, did research to find me the best care. My care was driven by a single oncologist. Lucky for me, he was surrounded by the best of the best. I found a surgeon in his health system. She was the most empathetic, kind and understanding doctor I had ever met. She put her hands on my knees and said, "We will get you through this." She is what I needed physically and emotionally at that time. She said that we should slow down and evaluate all of the facts, breast cancer in a node is not where breast cancer starts, we needed to find the source. She scheduled biopsies, MRI's, PET scans, etc. Multiple biopsies in my breast – because they still could not see anything on the scans – all showed cancer.
We discussed and the only option for me was a mastectomy. It was far too invasive to consider any other route. They didn't see tumors or cells in the scans because the entire breast was cancer. If you can pin being "fortunate" I was – I was hormone positive and HER2 negative, so the best of the worst I guess. None of my doctors were big on staging. I know they knew for protocols, but they never said, "You are stage 'x.'"
By reading my labs and understanding the metrics it is safe to say stage IIIb. It had extensive metastasis locally but no distant found. It was cancer that had been there a really long time, it was slow growing. It had taken the complete breast and metastasized to local lymph nodes. My Oncotype score was 0, but when six nodes are involved, that is out the window I am told. The breast and all axillary lymph nodes were removed, six were involved. Three micrometastasis, three macrometastasis. One of them was completely dissolved by the cancer. They were not painting a very positive picture.
After the surgery I met with my oncologist, I mistakenly thought it was to discuss if I needed chemo, to my genuine surprise, he said, "There is not a scenario at all that you will not have chemo." He was frank and forthright — I was learning that team was indeed the best choice for me. My confidence in them is what has made this journey bearable. My oncologist indicated that while it had not metastasized distantly, it quite likely would. I was treated as if it had.
Post Mastectomy, I had the traditional and fun-filled four treatments over 8 weeks of AC, (red devil) Adriamycin. Not sure if anyone outside of "us" knows what fun that is. Double-gowned, triple-gloved chemo nurses with mask and shield manually pushing this red poison in my body. After my second treatment my oncologist said, "Hmmm, you may want to take care of that," pointing to my below-waist-length hair, "It is going to be gone by this time next week." Smugly I ignored him, only to shave my head 3 days later, sobbing.
Then I had the additional 16 weeks of Taxol. I survived...at times wondering if it was worth it. Impatiently, I couldn't start radiation soon enough to suit me. Lesson learned: Be careful what you asked for. Radiation started out so simple — daily inconvenience but not really a big deal, until the last week when I was bleeding and oozing and thinking, "I cannot do the last few treatments." Of course, I did. I had to be at home alone because nothing could touch the area. I cried in pain if fabric even brushed against it as it healed, but heal it did.
Just when I thought we were coming to the end of active treatment, he kindly introduced me to Verzenio, 150 mg. Oh my, seems the fun was just beginning. It is a life-saving and cancer-altering drug. It is a gift for cancer in the fact that it is even available. With the cost, and the narrow window of eligibility, I truly was blessed to receive it. However, 6 months into it, I still experience severe side effects which no one wants to hear about. I am telling myself, "It is extending my life and reducing the probability of what is an eventual reoccurrence." I asked my oncologist frankly what my prognosis was. His answer: "I am not God, I have no idea how long you may live, but don't quit your job," because that is where I was headed if I had a short runway.
As I write this, I am preparing for a preventive mastectomy and DIEP flap reconstruction. I am 60 and body image is important to me. Sounds selfish I guess, but I feel like I have lost quite a bit in the last few years and that I need this to feel better about myself. I will be on Verzenio for two years, hormone blockers for 10 years (guess that means I will live another 10 years?).
I don't know what the future holds, I know that I have been given multiple gifts, an amazing team with The Christ Hospital Cancer Center, the best of the best surgeons, oncologist, radiation oncologists and plastic surgeon who only does breast cancer reconstruction. I simply cannot say enough about the treatment I have received, the care I continue to receive and the overall support that that health system provides. (I work in healthcare, I have lots to compare to.) I also am surrounded by amazing friends and family support. I am painfully aware that so many are not that fortunate, but I am truly one of the lucky ones.
As I start to get my hair back (what is with these curls???) while trying to find my footing to restart my life, I can look back and say as bad as it was, it wasn't that bad. Kind of like having a baby, once it is over it isn't quite as dramatic. Two and a half years ago I got a divorce I didn't really want, then a year and a half ago, I lost my sweet little mother and two months after that, the cancer diagnosis. I am the only one in my whole family that I have found going back over a 100 years with diagnosed breast cancer. I am a year and 4 months into this journey. It has been an emotional whirlwind, lots of tears, lots of anger and bitterness but in the end, I still say I am one of the very lucky ones.
Here is to all of you strong and beautiful ladies and gentlemen who are or have faced this battle. It is that — a battle — but one that you just have to accept and roll with to reclaim your life again. Cheers to being lucky! Lucky we found it, lucky it was treatable, lucky for the medical team I have, lucky for the friends and family who carried me when I could not walk.
Things, they say, happen for a reason. I suspect this is, for me, to open up my eyes and live my life each and every day. If for no other reason, to honor those who may not have been as lucky. Love to each and every one of you. No one should be alone, it takes a village for sure.
