Plan of attack

The days following my cancer diagnosis were some of the longest, hardest days I had to endure (and that includes the days I've experienced chemotherapy). I felt lost and overwhelmed, torn between the three miserable choices I had for treatment, knowing that making the wrong decision would have an impact on the long and fulfilling life I've envisioned for myself. I tried to read as much as I could about triple negative breast cancer on the internet to help guide me in the right direction, but it was tough reading. The outlook is not nearly as good compared to other types of cancers.

I thought I would wait for the results of my genetic test to come back before making a decision on surgery and treatment, as a positive result would encourage me to think more strongly about having a double mastectomy, but my insurance company denied the testing procedure. Something about my having Jewish ancestry makes the procedure unnecessary because I'm already at high risk of developing breast cancer (well, obviously, because I already have cancer). I'd just like to say that whoever made the decision that genetic testing is unnecessary obviously hasn't been faced with having to make a choice between keeping one or both of their boobs. Although the genetic testing company would do the test eventually anyway at no expense to me (they want the data, of course), it just resulted in additional delays, and it really felt like every second I waited to make a decision on treatment was acting against me.

Meanwhile, I had to start making phone calls to friends and family about my diagnosis. The first was to my mother, of course. Having been through this herself when she was just 32 years old, she's been my best supporter and ally. Of course, she's also been very adamant that I should follow in her exact footsteps as she's about to turn 60 this year and has had no recurrence. Mastectomy, chemo, radiation, two years of a crazy vitamin regimen... on the one hand, I wanted to believe that there's been better breakthroughs in cancer research in 28 years that I wouldn't have to do exactly what she did, but on the other hand I was grateful that I have a role model that has lived through this to give me hope that I'm going to be just fine.

But every call after that was much harder. It's just a depressing conversation... I felt like I was ruining everybody's day, even though I tried to sound as optimistic as possible by reminding people that I've got both my mother and grandmother to look up to as cancer survivors all these years later.

There was one call I almost didn't make - the one to my father. He lost his second wife, my stepmother, to cancer in 2016, right after I ran the Dark Side Challenge which was the race that prompted me to start this blog. She was only 60 years old, it all felt very sudden and unexpected, and it has left my father in a bad place ever since. He wakes up every day wondering what bad news will befall our family, and I knew his thoughts would immediately jump to the death of my stepmother instead of the long, healthy life my own mother has had after cancer. But I knew I needed the support of my entire family behind me. Maybe it was selfish to tell him. I know he worries every day about me. But if he didn't know... he wouldn't understand why I wasn't feeling well most days, or why I wasn't traveling anywhere, or why maybe I wouldn't be up for having him down for a visit, or why I'd be bald. I can't keep all of that a secret, right?

One week after my diagnosis, I did receive some good news. Remember that enlarged lymph node my surgeon did a biopsy on? It came back clear. It didn't necessarily rule out that cancer had spread, but was still somewhat comforting. It became clear to me that I could eliminate one of my choices from surgery - double mastectomy. There was no reason at that time to remove a healthy breast and have a more complex surgery that could possibly delay chemotherapy. I can always opt to have that surgery down the road if I want to.

So that left me with either pursuing what I've read as the best option according to the internet (neoadjuvant chemotherapy followed by lumpectomy) or following in the footsteps of living proof of something that worked in my own family (mastectomy followed by chemotherapy).

And on July 17th, I said goodbye forever to my left breast and what will hopefully be goodbye forever to cancer.

My mother took this photo as they were wheeling me away to surgery. I thought it was fairly ridiculous that she wanted to capture that moment, but I have to say I like that I don't look too bent out of shape, all things considering.