A Breast Cancer Beginning Nurse Turned Patient

By Hollye Harrington Jacobs, RN, MS, MSW on March 14th, 2012Categories: The Breast Cancer Journey
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As a nurse, social worker, and child development specialist, I have worked with a great number of people with cancer. I have also documented my own physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and oftentimes hilarious journey through, with, over, and around breast cancer. To clarify: breast cancer isnt funny. Not at all. However, my journey? Frequently guffaw-inducing. Another clarification: I prefer to call breast cancer FBC. The F stands prominently for the F-Bomb. Ive dropped quite a few F-Bombs since the diagnosis so, without being overtly crude, just know that when you see an F in my writing, you can safely assume what it stands for. In this community forum, I will discuss a great deal of both my personal as well as clinical experiences; however, to give you some perspective, I thought that it would be best for you to read my story, from the beginning. I look very forward to sharing my journey with you! On September 28th, 2010, I was awakened with shooting pain to my right breast. I am a person who can sleep standing up, with lights on, and a live band playing. So, to be awakened is a rare occurrence. I immediately felt a lump. WTF, I thought?

I dont consider myself to be an alarmist and promptly went back to sleep. On September the 30th, the exact same thing happened. WTF again? Reminding myself that I am NOT an alarmist, I assumed that this lump was a direct result of drinking coffee a new and unfortunate habit to which I succumbed as a result of total fatigue. Additionally, I assured myself that breast cancer doesnt typically hurt. So, I wasnt particularly worried. I was happy (and a little relieved), however, to already have an appointment with a gynecologist in Santa Barbara for a full checkup the week later. Fast forward to Monday, October 11th. I had full check-up and I do mean FULL, including blood work and all of the other unmentionable components of a gynecologic exam. I directed my doctor to the lump in my right breast still prominently palpable. My doctor asked when my last mammogram was. I told her that I am 39 and that I had not yet had one. Well, you would have thought that I had committed a mortal sin. What? You should have had one at 37, she said. I explained to her that I just moved from the Midwest where women typically dont have mammograms until age 40. I thought I was actually AHEAD of schedule, as I am apt to be. She said that the lump was probably nothing, but that she wanted me to have a mammogram and handheld ultrasound as soon as possible. ASAP? Well, I wondered, if she thinks its nothing then why am I rushing to get these tests? I called the two places in Santa Barbara that do mammograms and ultrasounds. The first appointment availability was mid-to-end of November at each location. However, one of the two said, If you come as a walk-in (promptly at 8:30 on Thursday), it is very likely that you will be the first seen. Okey-dokey. Ill be there. My husband was heading out of town on Wednesday for 5 days with a group of dear friends to Israel. This couples-trip had been planned nearly a year in advance. At the onset of the planning, I knew that I was not supposed to be on this trip. Why? I had no clue. Though I knew it would be an absolutely incredible, over-the-top trip, I just knew that I was not supposed to go. Because it was important to him, I supported his participation 110% (even though I had an inkling that he, too, was not supposed to go). I tell you this because I am a big advocate of intuition. When your inner voice talks, LISTEN.

Before he left, he said, If you need a biopsy, wait until I get back. Really? More of this alarmist talk On Thursday morning, I drove myself to my tests. Having someone come with me was not even in the realm of thinking. On my way there (at 8:15 am, by the way!), my gynecologist called to ask me when I was going for the mammogram and ultrasound. I told her to relax, that I was on my way there now. Geez. Well, the mammogram went brilliantly. The tech was kind, gentle, and apologetic for smooshing my breasts into the vice-like machine. Much unlike the horror stories Ive heard from friends. I asked if I could take a look at the images when she was done and it looked nice and fibrous. I was confident that in no time, I would be told to stop drinking coffee. Next up: handheld ultrasound. I was taken into a nice, quiet, dark room and given a warm blanket, which had NAP written all over it. Unfortunately, the technician was chatty, chatty, chatty. She was so nice, though, that I couldnt be grumpy with her. Then, she stopped talking. Silence. This, I knew, was not a good sign. However, I took it as an opportunity to catch a little shut-eye. When she finished, she asked me to stay in the room because she wanted to ask the radiologist if he wanted a few more images. No problem. She promptly returned 5 minutes later to squirt more gel on my breasts and take more images. After she finished, she asked me to put my clothes on and wait in the waiting room. I asked her when I would get the results. She told me that the radiologist would see me before I left. Another bad sign. I wondered why the radiologist needed to tell me in person to stop drinking coffee. Seemed a little dramatic since I was only drinking one cup a day at most. When I was finally called into the radiologists office, my images (a lot of them!) were on 4 large monitors before me. He said, I understand you are a nurse. Yes, I said. Then, I assume that I can talk with you more directly and clinically than I would someone else. Sure, I said (though, I wondered if there was a clinical way to tell me to stop drinking coffee). I felt as if I was about to be in a car crash, where everything happens before you know it, but it feels like slow motion. You have 4 lesions in your right breast and

3 in your left. We need to do a biopsy today and an MRI as soon as possible. Here are the images. You can see right here WTF? WTF? WTF?