Today was the day I got my results and discussed the plan to kick some cancer butt.  It is a good news, bad news type of deal.

Good news – I am going to lose some weight next week.   My boobs are about to be medical waste and will be replaced by something perky.  The decision has been made to do surgery first due to the results of the MRI (that will follow in the bad news!).  There was some talk about  just removing the left breast but it was decided to do both.  My right one would have boob envy since the new one will not be saggy and always pointing at my feet.

I will start chemo after the surgery.

Bad news – which is not really bad but definitely not good news like getting a boob job.  The MRI results showed that my lump now has a friend.  A second lump has crashed the party.  Because my cancer is so aggressive and determined to make my breast the ‘go to hot spot’ for the radical cells to hang out, the surgeon wants to condemn this joint that used to be chest.

I am so impressed with my medical team.  My surgeon has a great sense of humor and seems very accommodating although he nixed the idea of giving me something along the lines of Dolly Parton.

I now have a team.  Super.

Apparently my cancer is an aggressive one.  When I first saw my results I thought all of the negatives would be a good thing.  Nope.  My tumor is considered a triple negative which means it is not a hormone based cancer.  Supposedly harder to treat.  My plan calls for chemotherapy followed by a double mastectomy and radiation.  I am thinking that this cancer is going to seriously cramp my style.  Looks like my plans for taking a few of the young horses to some shows next month is not going to happen….

This morning I had a breast MRI.  It was cool.  If I liked techno music I would have bought the album.  It was a lot of repetitive tones, beeps and buzzes.  I could have sworn one of the tones was a robot repeating the word “bill, bill, bill” over and over for 5 minutes straight. Probably a subliminal message installed by the billing department.

Tomorrow I get the results.

It started on Jan 4.  While getting dressed in the morning I found a lump.  A big lump in my left breast.  Surely that had not been there yesterday.   I double checked, checked my finger tips for callouses because there was no way I had a lump.   I triple checked.  No doubt about it, I had a lump.

I called the doctor and got an appointment for Monday morning.

It was a long weekend of worrying and fondling my boob.  Seriously, once you know there is something in there it is hard not to freak out a little.  I showed up at my appointment early.  The nurse was kind, told me that most of the time these lumps turn out to be nothing serious.  Most of the time…..

The Nurse Practioner came in and took a brief history before she ‘met’ my lump.   She said it was likely a cyst and I needed a mammogram.

So, I made an appointment for that.   My boob was smooshed, squished, man handled and flopped on various platforms and trays.

When that fun was over I was asked to wait.  Then I got to repeat the process on the other breast.  Then back to the left again. Apparently the radiologist wanted to see more so off I went for an ultrasound.  Have I mentioned that pride is over rated when you have a lump?   I got to second base with half dozen strangers that day and not one of them bought me a drink.

Next up is a needle aspiration.  The doctors are still convinced it is a cyst.

Another week goes by before the aspiration because everything needs approval from somebody, somewhere.

Aspiration day turns out to be biopsy day because it turns out my cyst is not a cyst after all.  The biopsy was not that bad.  The waiting for results was painful.

My results were ready on a Tuesday morning (of course it was a long holiday weekend!).  I waited by the phone.  Patiently.  Then I called the doctor to remind her about my results.  The receptionist confirmed that the results were on her desk but had not been reviewed yet.  OK.  Patience is a virtue and all that.   A couple hours later I called again.  Ditto.  Finally at 5 minutes before the office  was due to close, I called again.  This time I was placed on hold.  A doctor finally came on, suggested that I was overly anxious or some nonsense.  Then he opened the envelope that would change my life.  He started reading….biopsy results for blah blah blah on blah blah blah Grade 3 out of 3 Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma.  Then he kept saying he was sorry, very sorry.   He is sorry?  Really?  So I asked him if he was sorry for making me wait all day to get the results or sorry that I have cancer?  He said both.