the first days

I vividly remember calling Cade on a warm mid-September day in West Texas & breaking down in my hotel parking lot. From the time I was diagnosed with the BRCA1 gene mutation five years ago at age 21 I’ve mostly been okay, but on this particular day the weight of my circumstances seemed too much to bear. At this point I was healthy as far as I knew. My husband and I had an incredible summer visiting Colorado, Montana, Wyoming and Arizona. We hiked, rode horses and fished until our hearts content. If there had been signs something was wrong, neither of us had seen them. Cade’s soothing voice calmed me, he told me everything was fine, I was completely healthy and we had our whole lives ahead of us. I bawled over the phone about how out of control and helpless I felt. I write this now, still with a lump in my throat remembering how strong those feelings were on that day. Even now I’m not sure why it hit me so hard then. After about 10 minutes I felt better and Cade said ‘I love you’ and we hung up, but I stayed in my car for a few more minutes and prayed. I asked God to help me. I prayed for strength and peace. Three days later on a lazy Sunday afternoon I found a lump in my left armpit that would eventually lead to my diagnosis of stage III breast cancer. I had a clean scan one-year prior and at 26 my doctors had always reassured me I had nothing to worry about for years to come. It was a diagnosis that rocked me to my core, but reflecting back on it now, I believe it was an answered prayer.

Cade wasn’t home when my thumb rolled over the lump for the first time. I had just woke up from a nap and my armpit had been sore for a few days, but I didn’t think much of it until that moment. I tried to stay calm and think positive. Have I mentioned I’m only 26? I used my age and that fact that this was my armpit not my boob to talk myself off the edge and I waited for Cade to get home. I immediately had him feel the lump and he used the same reasoning to try to calm me down. I ran into the bathroom dry heaving, I thought the worst possible thing in the world was happening to me. I had always planned to eventually have a prophylactic double mastectomy BEFORE cancer struck. Now what?

I called my mom and she too tried to talk me down with things like “its just a lymph node, you’re probably just catching a cold or something.” I convinced myself that her and Cade were right. When I called my oncologist in Denver the next morning I seriously expected them to say “oh we’ll give you an antibiotic for a week, if it doesn’t get better come in.” Nope. I couldn’t have been more wrong. They went all Defcon one on me. I was instructed to find an oncologist close to me and at least have them feel the lump. So I found an oncologist that could get me in that day. I went by myself (see, I was convinced it couldn’t be cancer) and quickly realized I was in over my head. The doctor felt the lump and immediately suggested an ultrasound guided biopsy. Ummmm what?! Hello, I’m 26 this has to be a reaction to a simple infection.

I had previously undergone a biopsy, and it was uncomfortable to say the least. I wasn’t about to let a complete stranger preform another one. So I opted to go home and have my oncologist oversee the process. Two days later I was in Denver, still hoping I had a “cold or something.” My mom was with me and our first stop was an ultrasound. I had to go back to see the doctor by myself and things escalated quickly. I still get knots in my stomach when I think of how gut wrenching our conversation with the radiologist was. Eventually mom joined me in the room as the radiologist said something like “there are no good scenarios here, I think this is breast cancer or lymphoma.” What the…?!? How could this be happening to me?

I quickly explained I had a cat and she recently scratched me on my left elbow. Could this be cat scratch fever? See, I was still convinced this was something else, I’m 26 for goodness sake! The radiologist said it was unlikely and ultimately a biopsy would need to be preformed to know conclusively what I was facing. Great, another biopsy. Mom and I rushed across the hall to meet with my oncologist before the biopsy. He felt the lump and agreed a biopsy needed to be done. I think he said something about breast cancer being very curable and given my history this wasn’t something to “screw around with.” So I wearily went back down the hall, knowing what was awaiting me. The radiologist bounced into the room where the procedure would take place. She happily announced the pathologist had quickly looked at my images and yes, maybe it was cat scratch fever. Woah! Sweeping relief rushed through my body, there was no way I could face cancer, but cat scratch? Yes, I could handle that. Although, that wouldn’t be the outcome her words gave me the strength to get through the next 30 minutes.

Six core biopsies were taken from my big ass lymph node and a “suspicious” spot next to it. Mom and I left the office and started the three hour drive home. We stopped halfway to pick up Chinese food for dinner, because I probably had cat scratch fever and we were hungry. By the time we got home though, I wasn’t hungry and all the what if’s began weighing on me. I was emotional, sore and exhausted. We propped me up with lots of pillows in the guest room and I slept soundly, until about 5 a.m. Then I was pretty sure the doctors office should call at any moment with results. Eight o’clock rolled around then noon and two o’clock with no phone call. I started to get nervous and anxious. My mom was supposed to can salsa the next day and we hadn’t cancelled because I had cat scratch for goodness sakes. After waiting around all day we finally decided to go pick up produce for the canning extravaganza the next day. On our way home my oncologist called, it was the worst possible place for mom and I to be when that phone call came. We were on the highway with a pickup full of tomatoes…I mean really? Dr. Paul didn’t mince any words, I had my notebook ready and the first words I wrote were: breast cancer positive.