From healthy to cancer patient in the wink of an eye

 

I have been diagnosed with grade 3 invasive lobular breast cancer and I want to share my story on how I went from healthy to cancer patient in the wink of an eye.

My mother had a heart attack when she was about my age. In June I decided that it may be time to go for an electrocardiogram (ECG) so that our family doctor can check whether my ticker is in any risk of stopping like my mom's. 

Other than the ECG I also wanted to ask my doctor why it could be that I am getting worse menstrual cramps than before. Am I going into menopause, perhaps? I am 45 years old, so it is not an impossible thing to think.

So, on 26 June I walk into the doctor's office at 9 am, a little nervous about the ECG because I haven't had one done since I was in primary school. My mom had problems with her heart ever since I can remember and I recall both my sister and me have had ECGs when we were kids. Running on that treadmill with cables attached all over my chest was scary!

Sister Margy, who has been working at the doctor since before we moved to Parys, came to fetch me from reception so that she can administer the ECG. As I lie down on the bed she asked me whether I'm a new patient. That was funny! Because I have seen the doctor before but haven't had an appointment in more than four years. I had to explain to her who I am by describing my husband. He visits the doctor more often, you see. He has some chronic conditions.

During the consultation with the doctor, he checked my blood pressure, listened to my lungs, felt my ankles for swelling, checked my abdomen for any irregularities, and scanned my throat, neck, and armpits for swollen glands. Because I haven't had a pap smear done in more than 10 years he administered one, and also withdrew some blood so that he can test my thyroid, cholesterol, and a few other things he said was important. He discussed my ECG results and my ticker is in tip-top shape, phew! I have been given a bill of excellent health, pending the blood results.

On 5 July I am back in the doctor's consulting rooms to discuss the results because he is a little worried about my elevated cholesterol. We assess my risk for a heart attack and it is less than 6%. If I quit smoking it will reduce my risk to under 4% (I think by myself that 2% does not make a difference). Therefore he decided to not prescribe drugs to lower my cholesterol; I must just watch what I eat. The doctor talked me through my blood results and I am healthier than the average 45-year old woman. What he is most happy about is that my pap smear is normal and that my white blood cell count is normal. If the latter is abnormal it means that my body is fighting some kind of infection, you see. And it is one of the first places where cancer can be picked up. I am so relieved that I am as healthy as a spring chicken!

But since I was on a health screening spree I decided to also go for a routine mammogram. I went for one in January 2017 when I felt a lump after self-examination, but that was just a cyst that disappeared after a few weeks. So, I thought it is time to go for my second mammogram (my hospital plan pays for preventative screening tests every second year) even though I do self-examinations at least once a week and have not felt any lumps or show any signs of breast cancer. My husband also examines my boobs very regularly (evil grin).

On the morning of the 8th of July, I drove off to Vereeniging for my mammogram. A friendly radiology technologist takes me into the room where my boobs are being squashed between two plates for x-rays. For your information, I don't know why other women find this painful. It is not sore at all, not even uncomfortable. I don't know what the big hype is about. After the x-rays, she takes me to the sonar room and a woman walks in and starts an ultrasound of my breast. This must be the doctor, but she did not introduce herself so I am not sure. As she examines my right breast a second time she stops regularly to mark the ultrasound image on the screen. She turns around to walk out of the room, looks over her shoulder and tells me that I need to come back next Thursday for a biopsy. 

My brain went into overdrive! What is wrong? What did she see? As I lie on the bed in absolute disbelief the technician comes into the room and asked me to please follow her because the doctor wants a 3D-mammogram done to check something. My mouth is so dry and my tongue feels like it is stuck to the back of my throat and I cannot get any words to come out of my mouth. As I stood with my breasts between the plates for a second time that day I started shivering so badly that the technician turned up the heat in the room. But I was not cold. I was in shock...

I was asked to keep on my gown and sit in the waiting room at the back while the doctor examines the 3D-mammogram. The same woman who administered the ultrasound came to me and told me that she wants me to come back for a biopsy the following week. When I asked her to please discuss the results with me she was too busy as her one colleague was off sick and she had a room full of patients waiting. Stunned to silence for the second time in less than 30 minutes I walk to reception to book my biopsy. 

By the time I reached my car in the parking area, I was in tears. What is going on? I opened the brown envelope and took out the report. My eyes caught the words 'BIRADS category 5 - 85% chance for malignancy' written in a big, bold font. These were the only words that I could read through the tears. What the fuck?! The 50-minute drive back home felt like an eternity.

By the time I reached home, I was furious. So furious that I cannot recall what happened - it almost feels as if I am experiencing a degree of memory loss about the happenings of the afternoon. I remember calling my medical aid to find out whether they pay for the biopsy that will cost between R12,000 and R18,000. They don't, so what now? I cancelled my appointment for the biopsy and set up an appointment for a second opinion.

So off my husband and I go to Randfontein on the West Rand the next morning for a second opinion from the doctor who did my mammogram two years ago. He read the report and requested an ultrasound. While he was examining my breasts he explained to Stefan and me that he is seeing a mass that concerns him and he would like to conduct a fine needle aspiration just to check, because he cannot feel any lumps. Immediately I am more at ease because the doctor is unsure of what he is seeing. Phew, this is just a scare and everything will be okay, I am sure of that.

On the evening of the 11th of July, I went for the fine need aspiration in Randfontein. Oh my god! What a painful procedure that was! The doctor struggled to find the core of the mass because he cannot feel it. Guided by ultrasound it felt like he was scratching inside my breast with the needle to extract fluid for testing. He comes back after taking the sample to the pathologists and apologises because he needs to get a second sample. I put up a brave face and endured the same pain a second time. The mass measures only 17 mm so he struggled to get to the core even the second time. He didn't want to put me through the third round of pain and told me that I can get dressed and go home and that the results will be sent to my family doctor within a week or two. He emphasised that even if the results come back negative, I should consider the R18,000 core needle biopsy to make sure.

The next couple of days, while waiting for the results, is a haze. I am trying to focus on my work but I can't. All I can think about is that I AM NOT SICK! What the heck is going on? If I had breast cancer I would have shown the signs and symptoms that I read about all over the internet. And it would have shown in my white blood cell count. I did several online breast cancer risk assessments and with my clean bill of health and family history, my risk for breast cancer is less than 8%.

Finally, on the 22nd of July, I get a call from my family doctor's practice: Doctor wants me to come in to discuss the results. The next day my husband and I walk into the consulting rooms, convinced that the doctor is going to tell us that it has been a scare and that everything is okay. Instead, he confirmed that I have breast cancer and that I have to go for a surgical biopsy so that it can be determined what kind of cancer and how aggressive it is.

The world around me crumbled into millions of pieces. Less than a month ago I sat in the same consulting room and the doctor told me that I am healthier than the average 45-year old woman. In the wink of an eye, I went from healthy to cancer patient.