F%CK CANCER

WARNING: For those of you who know me personally please know that we have decided NOT to tell to our 4 children about my experience with cancer. Please keep this in mind when they are present.

Part 1

September 14, 2012 marks the 1 year anniversary of the day I was diagnosed with cancer. I know that for a lot of you who know me personally, this is going to be news to you so I’ll give you all the details.

Over the course of many months I noticed a large lump in my left armpit. By the time I brought it to my doctors attention it was easily the size of an egg (you can see it in the picture of me, allow me to draw your attention to my armpit…add that to the list of things ‘I never thought I’d ever say’) Although painless, we decided to check it out. The first tests I had were an ultrasound and a fine needle biopsy. To my relief the biopsy came back negative. Phew. So we agreed to leave it and follow up in a year at my next PAP exam. So another year rolled by and the lump was still there. I re-did the ultrasound to find that the lump had not changed in any significance but my doctor decided to refer me to the Breast Health Clinic to have an expert in that area look at it and I agreed.

The doctor at the Breast Health Clinic decided I should do a core biopsy. This procedure is the same as the fine needle biopsy except they use a needle the width of a straw to take a bigger sample of the core. Let’s just say that it’s no picnic…in your armpit. The doctor told me that regardless of the results of the core biopsy she would likely want to operate and remove the lump for further examination and testing. So when the core biopsy also came back negative she started making arrangements to operate. After booking the surgery for October the nurse promptly called me back saying that the doctor wanted me to have the surgery sooner.

nurse- “so…how’s tomorrow?”

me- “ummmm, are you kidding me? No, I’m sorry, I can’t come tomorrow for surgery. I’ve had 2 biopsies both come back negative, this isn’t urgent.” What did she think I was doing, booking a pedicure?

This should have been my first tip off.

So in the end we compromised on Friday September 2. At least that gave me a week to prepare.

The day I went in to get the results from the surgery was a sunny warm day. Brent and I went in to see the doctor in happy moods. I was confident that the result was sure to be negative given that both biopsies were negative before this. The doctor came in and we exchanged pleasantries.

She leaned up against the table.

“I wish I had better news for you. The test came back positive for cancer.”

I don’t remember much of anything after that. I was in shock.

“I don’t want to die.”

“My kids are going to be without a mother.”

“I didn’t want to die young like my mother did.”

“I don’t want to be in pain.”

“I don’t want cancer.”

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE.”

 

The days that followed were filled with uncontrollable sadness and a feeling of complete and utter loss of control. It was dark.

 

I was referred to see an oncologist at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. I had a CT scan before my first appointment so that they would be able to “stage” the cancer. I got a call from one of the nurses to see if I had any questions. HA! Questions? Yeah, I’ve got some questions alright. Like how the fuck did ‘I’ end up with cancer. Me! The person who eats right, runs daily, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t drink pop, doesn’t eat fast food! The nurses at the Tom Baker are fantastic, don’t get me wrong. They do a difficult job and never make you feel like you’re a burden. But I had to laugh at that question. In the end she couldn’t tell me much but she did tell me the exact type of cancer I was diagnosed with.

Nodule Lymphocyte-predominant Hodgkin’s Lymphoma

And there it was. It had a name.