2016: The Year My Luck Ran Out

2016: The Year My Luck Ran Out

By Sarah A. Rogers

As part of the FHN marketing team, I write a lot of health-related things. I can tell you the warning signs of a heart attack or stroke; what the difference is between a nurse practitioner, a physician, and a physician assistant; and I’ve been known to lecture my family about antibiotic overuse. 

So I am pretty familiar with Walk-In Wednesdays, FHN’s “open invitation” for women who need a mammogram. When I turned 45, I walked in for a baseline mammogram. 

With no family history of cancer, a mammogram was more of a “cross off my to-do list” event, and after all, I could hardly write about taking care of your health if I wasn’t doing so myself!

So it made me nervous when I got a call to come in for a retest and an ultrasound. I comforted myself with the statistics – the nurse who called me assured me that the vast majority of callbacks on mammograms turned out to be nothing to worry about. 

Online, I found that, according to the American College of Radiology, for every 1,000 women who have a screening mammogram, 100 will be called back for another look, and 61 will find nothing wrong after their follow-up imaging. The odds were in my favor!

I was relieved when the radiologist came in after my ultrasound to inform me that I was fine. My future mammogram appointments, thanks to the spot on my left breast that brought me in for further testing, would include an ultrasound so my healthcare team could keep an eye on that spot.

I felt kind of lucky, actually – no nervous waiting for the “all clear” call for me; I would talk to the radiologist in person after each ultrasound. I was kind of like a mammogram VIP. 

My luck ran out early this year. Another spot had developed, and after a mammogram and ultrasound, the radiologist recommended a biopsy. 

The odds were still in my favor – in fact, as the American Cancer Society informed me online, in bold print, most biopsy results are not cancer. 

I’d like to say that I was in that “most” group, but then, I wouldn’t be writing about having breast cancer, would I? 

The biopsy found triple-negative breast cancer. That’s about all I remember from when my surgeon told me and my husband that I had breast cancer. I remember thinking “I’m going to have to look that up.”

My type of cancer, I would find out, is called triple-negative because it’s ER, PR and HER2 negative, which means it lacks the hormone “receptors” that fuel most breast cancers; estrogen and progesterone receptors and human epidermal growth factor receptor 2.

That’s a lot of medical jargon there, isn’t it? I’m pretty good with medical-ese, and I already felt confused. (Mind you, I was looking up this information on my phone on the way home from our appointment with the surgeon.)

Before long, my medical team expanded to include a medical oncologist, who talked with me about genetic testing – if I had the BRCA mutation, the team’s recommendation for surgery could change from lumpectomy to mastectomy – and the near-certainty that I would undergo chemotherapy. 

Since my diagnosis in March, I’ve undergone surgery that included a lumpectomy and the removal of some lymph nodes to see if the cancer had spread. I’ve gone through eight rounds of chemotherapy, and I have a second surgery to remove (and biopsy) a different spot on my other breast. After that, my team will expand to include a radiation oncologist when I undergo radiation therapy.

I have felt awful, like someone pulled the plug out of my life and everything good had just drained out. I have gotten sick on a family vacation, and had to cancel plans with friends and family. I have “chemo brain,” which makes my memory fuzzy and has robbed me of my concentration and what seems like half of my vocabulary.  My fingers and toes are an odd combination of numb and super-sensitive, and sometimes feel like they’re being attacked with needles.

I have told my family, my friends and coworkers that I have cancer, and they have supported me, offered help, and cheered me on. When my hair started falling out, my husband shaved my head while I sat covered in sheets in our living room because I was afraid our dog wouldn’t recognize me without hair. When I posted a photo of me, bald, on Facebook, one of my friends commented simply “New glasses? Cute!”

Though my luck in health ran out this year, I still feel pretty lucky. My breast cancer was detected early and I put up a good fight, and I believe I’m on my way to being well. 

The earlier cancer is found, the better your odds for recovery. So even if luck isn’t on your side, getting regular screening mammograms can make sure that time is on your side.