By Wendy Binns
Publisher
On Sept. 20 last year, at 36 years old, I received my breast cancer diagnosis. Someone shared her story with me when I received this news, so I decided to keep the kinship going by sharing a snapshot of my own year with cancer. This is how it happened for me.
Friday, September 16
It’s probably nothing.
I got the biopsy and went back to work.
I feel like a downer at a best friend’s 40th birthday party. I have on 80s clothes and I feel ridiculous in the hot pink lace socks and banana clip in my hair. I rationalize to myself that 80% of tumors tested come back as benign.
Tuesday, September 20
My friend Annie and I hold hands waiting to be called in for Dr. Taylor to go over my pathology report. Invasive ductal carcinoma. Cancer. Annie takes notes. I thank my doctor for finding it and he covers his face. The parking garage attendant asks how I am doing as we drive away from the hospital and I cry.
We call my husband. We call my sister.
My mother is in Virginia and in the middle of chemotherapy for her breast cancer. It’s excruciating to pick up the phone to call her. She is making dinner and I feel faint. I can see her standing at the kitchen sink, looking out the window. I can barely breath. Her cry is gut wrenching – Oh, Lord … not my baby!
I talk to my Dad. He reassures me. I tell him that I’m sorry to be disappointing them. He soothingly says it’s not my fault. We’ll get through this.
Wednesday, September 21, 1:00am
Can’t sleep. 6:15 a.m. I have cancer. I wonder what will happen. It’s still dark outside, so I close my eyes with my mind racing.
I have no appetite. I feel sorry my husband. What a drag I must be.
Mom is doing better today and there’s a determined strength in her voice.
Friday, September 30
I feel confused and tired. There has been so much waiting. Waiting for test results. Waiting to make decisions once I get the results. I just want someone to tell me what to do. But, so much is up to me. I decide to get a lumpectomy, four rounds of chemo and traditional radiation.
Notes are coming from friends. Flowers. Poems. Insights. It all is so helpful in keeping up my spirits. I cling to every word and gift.
Saturday, October 1
Pink is everywhere because Breast Cancer Awareness Month started. I’m visiting my parents in Virginia. Mom and Dad take me to the Chesapeake Bay and the sun was shining orange through the clouds as we drove home. I almost forgot about cancer today. We turn on the football game and the players are wearing pink – a wave of realization hits me again.
October 12, 2011
I felt sideswiped a few weeks ago. Right now I know better what to expect. I’m getting used to needles. I’m armed with information. I feel strong and resilient. I feel heightened love for the people around me. I feel like wonderful things are also happening to me – people I meet, what they say. I’ve chosen a sunny outlook and it might seem strange, but for the most part I feel happy.
October 14, 2011
Yesterday I had my lumpectomy. My parents, Ward and I arrived at 6 a.m. I tried to make jokes and lighten the mood. Now, today is my husband’s and my 11th wedding anniversary. He serves me soup and gives me ice packs as I lie on the couch.
Saturday, October 17
My surgeon called with the pathology results from the lumpectomy. The tumor is smaller than they had originally thought. It is 1.5 cm. I’m classified as Stage I. The edges of the tumor looked clear during surgery, but under a microscope they’ve determined that they need to remove more tissue. So, she will go in through the same incision to do this in a week or two. Of the seven lymph nodes she removed, one shows some isolated tumor cells. Perhaps the cancer was about to spread, but we got it.
November 4, 2011
I took the plunge and got a new short haircut last week. Mom, the ultimate mentor, calls it a transition cut … helps ease into losing my hair, which will probably fall out in a couple of weeks. So the new crop happened on my terms. Chemo training session is next week and I’ll have my first treatment before Thanksgiving.
November 7
My surgeon’s office just called this morning to say that the pathology report is back from last Thursday’s surgery. It shows that the additional tissue they removed is benign. I skip through the office building to tell my friends.
November 11, 2012
My scars are healing ‘beautifully’ as I was told today at the post-op appointment. I don’t feel sick at all, which makes this whole experience so strange.
November 19, 2011
Ward, our friend Thom and I went yesterday for the first chemo infusion. I was a bit nervous. I had a quick burst of tears when the nurse stuck the needle through my port (Portocath is a medical appliance under the skin and connected to a vein to help administer the chemo). I go home and wait for side effects to kick-in, but so far I don’t feel anything other than sleeplessness from the steroids I’ve been taking to prevent nausea and inflammation.
November 30, 2011
Most of the side effects hit me two days after chemo. Achy neck and underarms, metallic taste in my mouth, fatigue, a bit of an upset stomach … I just took it easy. This is manageable. I have support at work that really helps me stay focused on getting better.
December 13, 2011
We’re at the halfway mark of chemo treatments and I’m coming out of my fog this morning! This second infusion went just fine. And, my friends Randall Fox and Patrick Dennis chauffeured Ward and me to the appointment in their classic Rolls Royce. I’m not sure how many people smile that much on their way to chemo.
December 6, 2011
Clumps of hair came out into my hands while I was working this morning. I make plans to shave my head. Mom says it’ll also be less stress (and mess) not to have the hair falling out in the shower and waking-up to it all over my pillow. My eyelashes are almost already gone.
January 3, 2012
Friends usually ask what it feels like after chemo. It is different for everyone, but from my dose of chemo and meds my side effects have included fatigue, sore body, upset stomach, hot flashes, metallic taste in my mouth and bone pain in my back. These are all temporary. And, I’ve learned ways to cope with them, like lemon in water, Epsom salt baths, lots of sleep. I keep learning new tricks.
January 10, 2012
Having new side effects today. My fingers are numb and in pain. Hurts to hold the pen. Can’t twist the switch on the lamp. My nails are turning black. I need to drink lots of liquids, but the taste is disgusting. Mom recommends using a straw and it helps avoid the bad taste.
January 17, 2012
I run in Piedmont Park. My legs burn because I haven’t done my usual exercise class in three months. A terrible metallic taste comes into my mouth.
January 19, 2012
Last chemo is today! I’m grateful to the Taxotere and Cytoxan, but it’s time to say goodbye!
February 2, 2012
It’s been two weeks since my last chemo and I’m not really feeling back to normal. Honestly, I’m tired. My ankles are swollen like croquet mallets. My fingers hurt. I try to do a hike with Ward and John and I started crying because I am too weak to finish. I feel disappointed in myself. I ruined the hike. I’m so frustrated today.
February 25, 2012
I didn’t realize how bad I felt until I started feeling really good just a few days ago – kind of like my old self. Actually, last fall on a day that I felt particularly bad, I went outside and planted bulbs – a gift to myself for spring. I knew by the time I’d see them coming up that the hard part would be over. And, now some are blooming!
March 23, 2012
With 24 radiation treatments behind me, I only have nine to go. Last night one of my angels, Barbara, and I went to JCT. Kitchen and we celebrated that the end of treatment is near. Last time we were at JCT was back in September over the ominous weekend waiting for the results of my biopsy. We’ve come a long way!
March 31, 2012
I’ve been writing a short note in INtown each month to chronicle my experience. The fourteenth woman emailed me today to say the notes inspired to get her mammogram.
April 5, 2012
I went to visit my friend who was getting chemo this morning. On the way up in the elevator a man said, “I like your haircut.” I tell my friend about that while her IV drips – we laugh hysterically. I look like a Marine with barely any hair on my head.
May 8, 2012
I’ve been on cloud 9 since my radiologist said that I’m cancer-free. The diagnosis and treatments were pretty crummy, but I realize that many lovely gifts came from my experience. I’m a better person on this side of it. Sometimes I’ll run across a remnant from the last 8 months – my favorite blanket, a card, a medicine bottle, a photo – and, I feel stunned by the winter I had. That really was me? I’m really finished and rebounding?
It was me.
I did it.
I’m loving life!
