The Girl Behind the Ribbon

October’s Fall is officially upon us. With Fall comes beautiful colors of leaves changing from green to beautiful tints of yellows, reds, and oranges. Another popular color that comes to mind for the month is pink, for breast cancer awareness. It's as if October is it's own season, celebrated and rooted for just like someone's favorite NFL team. Every October, hits different, and although awareness is critical, sometimes seeing that pink ribbon hits me with a wave of emotions; for me and thousands of other women.


I am a face to the 1 in 8 women who got diagnosed with breast cancer and represents that pink ribbon. As the day from diagnosis becomes more of a memory, it still is hard to write that at age 22 I was diagnosed with stage 2 triple positive breast cancer. 


While companies create merchandise to support this month, whether their proceeds go to cancer research, or not (as some only sell for the sole purpose of making money off this disease). I ask only one thing: please do not forget about the girl behind the ribbon.

This month when you wear your pink or purchase merchandise with a pink ribbon I want you to think.


I want you to visualize the girl, who was just told her life is never going to be the same again. Think of the lady that just took a shower and had handfuls of her hair wash down the drain. Imagine the girl who takes medicine to help with side-effects such as: nausea, aches, fatigue, and hot flashes but the medication given to help, also has it’s own list of side effects.  I want you to envision the women who is going under the knife and drastically changing her appearance not for the “free boob job” but in hopes that the doctor removes all the cancerous cells in her body. Think of the lady who just had a double mastectomy, whose surgical drains make her feel like an ugly robot. Imagine the girl who has to go in for radiation daily, despite her skin being raw and in pain. Picture the woman experiencing infertility, rushing in to freeze any viable eggs she can in hopes that one day she will be able to conceive naturally, fully aware that it might not even be a possibility her body is forced into medically induced menopause. Imagine the survivor who with each passing day thinks of a re-occurrence and constantly scans their body for something to not be right, that will have them reface this nightmare again. See the girl who is having a hard time adapting to her ‘new normal’ and hates the scars that look back at her in the mirror. Know that there is a girl out their whose breast cancer is incurable despite several rounds of chemo, but still goes to treatment determined to persevere.


Breast cancer is not: frilly tutus, fuzzy socks, hats, phone cases, headbands, lanyards, jewelry, bananas, magnets or the plethora of other merchandise you can buy that has a pink ribbon on it.


Because, eventually the month will end, and the merchandise will be off the shelves. However, the cancer patients journey is not seasonal like the weather. We live with Breast Cancer at the forefront of our minds, daily. 

So please, do not forget about the girl behind the ribbon. 

June 2016: Post Shave. One of the realities of cancer.

Disclaimer: This blog was prepared by Brittney Mink-Eiklor in her personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the views of outside parties.

(Un)Pretty in Pink: The Truth About a Breast Cancer Diagnosis: YSC Blog. (2019, October 16). Retrieved October 23, 2019, from https://blog.youngsurvival.org/unpretty-in-pink/.

HAPPY FOOBIE-VERSARY!

 Three hundred and sixty five days later…..

I still remember the time I woke up, and what I did that morning. I double checked my overnight bag to make sure it had all the necessities in it that all the websites say you need to bring with you . Pillow? Check. Lip Balm? Check. Baggy button up shirts? Check. Phone charger?  Check. Check. Check. Just like that we were in the car. I sat in the passenger seat looking out the window, crying silently. The tears left my cheek and rested on my zip up hoodie. The Kid Rock CD that is usually blaring through the speakers was turned down low; Mom only had it on to try to keep me in a normal state of mind. As we drove closer and closer to the hospital, she held my hand. She was strong, supportive, and comforting, everything I needed in that moment, however; I couldn’t help but resent the lady that was driving me to surgery that was forever going to change my life. The usual pretty short drive to ‘The Valley’ seemed like an eternity.

My-Other-Dad, and Mom before surgery.
Cancer Free For Christmas!

We pulled into the parking lot; no one was there, the sun still sleeping. We got out of the car and collected all my things and made a couple steps towards the entry way. I froze in my tracks, I can’t do this, cancel the surgery, and I’ll take my chances. I had a complete breakdown in the middle of the parking lot, my parents surrounded me, comforted me, and somehow I ended up on the surgical wing of the Robert Packer Hospital. The receptionist at the desk had to ask her mandatory question of “What are you here for?” the words “bilateral mastectomy” barely escaped my lips. This was real, this was happening, no turning back now. They escorted me back to get me prepped. The sweet staff was so compassionate and cheery, which was so comforting. I feel like I was forcing a smile and putting on a show for them.  On the outside I was smiling and making jokes, but my true emotion on the inside was attending a funeral. I was never going to be the same person; today was my very own personal D-Day.

A sweet nurse who wanted to get in on the selfie.

Everything was going seemingly smooth. Dr. Everson, came in, closed the curtains, and he created his very own Mona Lisa on my chest. I looked down and realized these black marker lines were going to be my scars, and that this would be the last time I would look down and see real breast tissue and nipples. My emotions were starting to heighten, and the feeling of fear started to creep back to the forefront of my thoughts. I got back into bed and it was time that they hooked me up to the IV, as it was almost “show time”, however, my veins were not cooperating and it took several attempts to try to gain access. I was visibly upset and crying, so much so that they had to give me medicine to calm me down. I vaguely remember being wheeled into the surgery room. Being transferred to the surgical table, I cried. I hoped I was making the best decision for my health, I hoped I would still find myself beautiful. Dr. Z, my breast surgeon, at this point looking like an alien in his surgical attire; looked me in my eyes, held my hand and he said, “everything is going to be okay” and my eyes got heavier and heavier and heavier and I fell asleep.

My family from Maine, and my Dad
posing with Matt! 

 Nine hours later, my eyes fluttered open. I was alone, and it didn’t even seem like I had a surgery. Then it hit me out of nowhere.The nurse appeared and tended to my needs. My mom and dad were finally allowed back in to see me. I was fine emotionally until I saw them. My team.  They were rooting for me in that uncomfortable waiting room, supporting me. Cancer has taught me one thing, unconditional love. You see when you get really sick, you find out who your true friends are. I had family come in to see me, and while I was happy to have them there. I was upset that they were there, seeing me in my worst form, like an infant relies on its’ mother for care, I too was completely helpless. I did not want to be perceived as weak, or destitute.  

 Physically, I felt fine, my chest felt like it had a brick on it, but the pain medicine seemed to be working. Then, I felt the familiar feeling everyone has felt before. I was going to be sick. Being under the anesthesia for so long had made me ill. I began to cry because I did not want to ­throw up. I knew the force of vomiting on top of a double mastectomy was going to be excruciating, and it was, and it happened several times.

Couple days post op.
The drains you can see in this picture
collect blood and lymphatic fluid

My mom was the only person permitted to stay overnight with me. I slept on and off throughout the night. I remember needing to pee and not wanting to wake my mom because she too had had an emotionally draining day. I buzzed for the nurse, who seemed unhappy to be bothered, and she was not happy when I would wince in pain from getting up from the bed. You don’t know how much you rely on your chest muscles until they have been cut into. By mid-morning I was feeling good, I was able to brush my teeth, and so I already started feeling better. I was discharged around noon, the day following my surgery.

Remember that quick drive to the valley and how long it took to get out there? Well it took even longer to get back home. Every pothole we hit sent excruciating pain through my chest.  I got home and stayed on my pain medicine, however, it didn’t mask the pain. Drains came out of my sides filled with blood. I was bruised, and padded up I felt like a robot. I didn’t feel like a human, and I certainly didn’t feel like a woman.

Maggie was gentle and loving during recovery.
Exactly what I needed.

My mom, a true angel, never left my side. She always made sure I had snacks, drinks, and medicine. We were able to watch an entire series of Friends during my recovery. I wasn’t allowed to fully shower for the first week, and my mom took me in every day and washed me, like she did when I was a baby. The shower always insinuated a breakdown. I felt humiliated. I couldn’t care for myself. I even needed help going to the bathroom. I remember asking her if I made a horrible decision, tears would always fill my eyes.

Mom always had to be the one to apply new dressings to my wounds and help put my surgical bra back on. One day I got the courage to look, granted, before I was supposed to. I saw swollen, bruised, fake breasts, with no nipples. Again, I bent over and sobbed. This wasn’t me. However, I was patient with the process. Three weeks later, I got my drains removed, and that is when I started to feel like a human again, I was going to overcome this.

Matt couldn't make it home for my surgery
but was able to make me laugh and feel
 better about myself a week after.

My mastectomy was not going to define me as a person, and three hundred sixty five days post-op, it hasn’t.  Not saying I don’t have my bad days. There are some days I stand in front of the mirror and criticize myself. I may think my scars haven’ faded properly, or I’m foobies (fake boobies) are lopsided. Some days, I cry and miss the old “BMink”. Yet, this is the body that beat cancer. You see, “Here is the beautiful thing about those marks that you don’t always so proudly bare- all those scars, wrinkles, stains and blemishes. They tell a story, your story, and it is a tale of resilience written perfectly placed upon your flesh. You are one of a kind-the only one who has lived your life and knows your sacred truths. So own every mark upon you, for they are a part of the identity that you have negotiated in this beautiful life and you are exactly as you are meant to be.”

Today, marking my foobie-versary, I have not only had my implants for one year, but in conjunction; today marks my one year anniversary of being no evidence of disease, aka “Cancer Free”.  Here’s to the next 365 days of a happy, healthy, BMink.

xoxo

How Would You Like Your Eggs?

Morning of the egg retrevial

Now when I was told that my fertility might be compromised during chemotherapy, I never wanted a child more in that instant. Freezing my eggs was the only choice to at having a somewhat ‘normal’ pregnancy. The downfall to completing this procedure is that the fertility clinic was two hours away. I went and did a consult with one of the clinic’s nurses. They completed an ultrasound on my ovaries and not knowing what it would mean, the nurse said I had Polycystic Ovaries (PCOS) (story to follow). Anyway, they ordered my medicine and a few short days later I began injecting myself to begin the process for egg retrieval. Thanks to the Livestrong Foundation, and well I guess being a cancer patient, I was able to complete this process a process valued at $10,000 for free (minus the anesthesia cost).

‘In order to retrieve eggs for freezing, a patient undergoes the same hormone-injection process as in-vitro fertilization. The only difference is that following egg retrieval, they are frozen for a period of time before they are thawed, fertilized and transferred to the uterus as embryos. Once the eggs have adequately matured, they are removed with a needle placed through the vagina under ultrasound guidance. This procedure is done under intravenous sedation and is not painful. The eggs are then immediately frozen. When the patient is ready to attempt pregnancy (this can be several years later) the eggs are thawed, injected with a single sperm to achieve fertilization, and transferred to the uterus as embryos.’

Start of OHSS
Bruising from injections

During the course of two weeks I had to make several trips to Syracuse for them to view how my ovaries were reacting to the hormones.  The process was pretty simple once you get over the fact that you have to give yourself a shot. The day of retrieval came and I was so excited to get this part of the journey over with. They took 35 eggs and the following day it was confirmed that they were able to freeze 32 eggs! It was a little uncomfortable to walk the remainder of the day, and overall just cramp-y.  You bloat up a little bit from the hormones in your lower abdominal area, and that should go away shortly after retrieval. However, for me, it did not- I got bigger. Remember how I mentioned me having PCOS? Well, one of the side effects of egg retrieval in conjunction with PCOS is Ovarian Hyper stimulation Syndrome (OHSS). Hold up, wait, too many acronyms- and I don’t know what you’re talking about.

PCOS is a problem in which a woman's hormones are out of balance (could this be where my cancer came from-perhaps).  It’s more of a genetic disease that comes with several symptoms that tend to be pretty mild at first: acne, trouble losing weight, thicker hair, etc.

Mom always cuddling me to comfort.

Having this fairly rare disease (1 in 10 women) was probably what caused my ovaries to be hyper stimulated. OHSS is where too there is too much hormone medication in your system in which your ovaries become swollen and painful. A small number of women may develop severe OHSS, which can cause rapid weight gain, abdominal pain, vomiting and shortness of breath.

Leaving Syracuse for the final time.
Happy with the news of:
"All tapped out!"

The pain was unbearable; I couldn’t walk, sit, stand, anything without horrible pain coursing through my lower abdomen. I really did not feel good. In essence, my ovaries were put into overdrive by the trigger shot I took that. The HCG in the shot made my ovaries react all bonkers and started to leak fluid, and that fluid started to move into my abdomen.  I had gained almost 20 pounds in just a few short days due to the ‘water weight’. Once I realized this pain was abnormal, and it wasn’t going away. I made a trip to Syracuse to speak to the nurses and doctors about my issue. Treatment for OHSS is only to make you feel more comfortable, and boy was I in pain. The treatment plan is basically the same procedure as the egg retrieval but instead of retrieving eggs, they drain the cavity using a needle.  Sadly, that day was a day I decided to go by myself- HUGE MISTAKE! They wanted to put me under for the procedure, but because I didn’t have a ride, that meant no anesthesia. Naturally, I had psyched myself up to experience the worst pain imaginable, and I wasn’t too far off. However, it was more of a pressure than a pain feeling. They took out 1.5 liters of fluid that day. In the course of the week  I had to travel to Syracuse 4 times to be ‘tapped’ and each time the drained me they took about 2 liters (and no, I never went alone to those appointments after that first one).

So, yes my kids (32 frozen eggs just waiting to be fertilized) were already giving me troubles! However, if it meant that this was my only way of conceiving my own children; I would do it all over again if I had to. It also makes me happy knowing that because I don’t plan on being ‘The Old Lady that Lived in a Shoe’ (having all 32 children) that another woman battling an aggressive cancer and needing to start treatment right away will find comfort knowing that she will be able to have children by using my eggs.

It was rare for me to get cancer, it was rare for me to get PCOS, it was rare for me to have OHSS; quite frankly, I was sick of being unique, and I just wanted to be normal. My normal; whatever that was, before cancer came and made me such a rarity.

XOXO-B

 

 

http://uscfertility.org/egg-freezing-faqs/

http://www.webmd.com/women/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-topic-overview#1

https://www.womenshealth.gov/publications/our-publications/fact-sheet/polycystic-ovary-syndrome.html

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/ovarian-hyperstimulation-syndrome-ohss/home/ovc-20263580

Ports and Puking

May 3, 2016—Port Surgery



We had to wait a little over a month to get all of our ducks in a row before proceeding. The plan at my place of work was to send me to training to become a forensic interviewer, because I was unsure of how sick I was going to be during treatment, I thought it was best that I go to training before I started treatment. Then the following week I was undergoing the steps to freeze my eggs. I ended up having to miss a planned vacation with my brother, sister-in-law and niece to Disney World.  Sadly, I had to miss the picture below in person, so I could create memories with her, and my own children at Disney in the future.

 

The Chemo-Port

 

 

The surgery for my chemo port is actually my first real surgery besides getting my tonsils taken out in the third grade. A port (chemo port-a catheter) is a nifty little device that they put in you to receive chemotherapy. Because thye medicine given during chemo can burn you veins, I was strongly suggested to get this device, and looking back now, I’m glad I did. They can take blood samples, and give you your chemo treatment all through your port, in essence, fewer needles, less pokes, less pain.  Advice: ask for lidocaine cream to apply a half hour before your chemo appointment, and you won’t even feel that needle.

The special soap to shower with

Learn more about chemo ports here: http://www.cancer.net/navigating-cancer-care/how-cancer-treated/chemotherapy/catheters-and-ports-cancer-treatment

They give you this special soap to shower with the night before surgery. You not allowed to eat or drink past midnight. I walked in fairly confident, but, as soon as they gave me the gown to put on, it became real again. You see, I really didn’t feel like I was sick or I had cancer until I was in the hospital. It hit me, that they were going to put this device in, theoretically to help save my life, I saw it as the device that was going to help kill every good and bad cell in my body. Anyway, the  day of surgery you have to submit a urine sample, to ensure that you’re not pregnant. I believe I was in and out of the O.R. in two hours or so. Your mind plays tricks on you, you lead yourself to believe that things will be worse than they are, and in retrospect, port surgery was one of the easiest parts of this process.

You’re a little sore for a few days afterword’s, but completely manageable with pain killers and in fact Tylenol. However--- ADVICE: let your body rest, and always eat before you take a pain pill.



Bandage is where the port was placed.

However, the next day, I tried to be superwoman and go to work. I was scheduled to go to a meeting with a few co-workers in the next county over. I took my scheduled hydrocodone, without breakfast, and just as my ride pulled in the driveway, I got sick. I didn’t want to make Dave’s trip wasted by picking me up, and I didn’t want to call off work, so I grabbed a granola bar, a few grocery bags and jumped into his new-Dodge pickup truck. The meeting was roughly an hour away, my stomach still was not agreeing with me. As we were about five miles away from our destination, I started to feel hot, my throat started to sweat. Oh No! Not in his truck, but yes, I grabbed my grocery bags and got sick two times by the time we reached the courthouse. I felt so embarrassed, and I was afraid that this was what my life was going to be like for the next year so I started crying. Looking back at the story now, it’s not as embarrassing, I’m just glad I didn’t ruin his truck! The funny part of the story though...there was no trashcans outside the courthouse… so, I had to explain to security that they did not want this grocery bag to go through their metal detector, and that they surely didn’t want to look in it. Trying to remain as professional as possible, I informed them of what was in the bag, now realizing I didn’t pose a threat and a little disgusted, the officer let me through to dispose of my bag. I felt sick for the remainder of the day and in fact I had to travel two hours to Syracuse and back that day with mom for an egg appointment, where I continued to get sick while traveling. This cancer journey was sure going to be interesting.

Love Story

In the mix of being forced to make some of the hardest decisions of my life, one of the best things in my life happened. I think it’s time to bring some joy to my blog. April 8, is probably one of the best days of this entire year, and in fact it will be one of the best days of my entire life, no questions asked. In honor of Veteran’s Day, and in chronological order of my hectic life, was the post-deployment ball. Matthew tells the story so much better than I do, but, I will try my best.

Matt has been one of my best friends and biggest supporters since we first were connected three years ago. You see, it all started with a simple Facebook message while he was stationed in Germany; wishing him a Merry Christmas and thanking him for his service. Throughout the following year we messaged randomly catching each other up on our lives. I actually tried to send him a letter during the summer of 2014 to which he claims the mailman never delivered. It wasn’t until a year after my first message to him was when we would first officially meet at the Elmira-Corning Regional Airport. He hadn’t slept in days, hadn’t had a solid meal since he left Germany, all those things would have made me miserable, not him though. He was instantly cracking jokes and a smile never left his face. I enjoyed dinner with him and his family at Applebees, I drove home that night with sore cheekbones from all the laughter, and in that moment I realized how important of a person Matt was going to be in my life.   A week came and went and I found myself back at the airport afraid I had missed his flight, afraid that I didn’t get to say goodbye, and afraid of when I was going to see him again. I ran around the airport tears in my eyes, searching for the man in the camo hat, and when I finally found him a huge relief came across me, I got to wish him off to Germany. We continued to message and skype, and because of the time difference I was staying up well into the night to get to know him better.

However, it wouldn’t be until late October of 2015 when I would see him again. I got to spend two days with Matthew before he would deploy to Afghanistan. Deployment was challenging. I went days without hearing from him, a man I was so accustomed to talking to every single day, all day. I prayed so hard for his safe return, and in those prayers I came to realization that I couldn’t just be friends with Matt anymore, for I had fallen completely and head over heels in love with him. It wasn’t until the tail end of his deployment during another choppy skype call that he asked me to go on a date with him upon his return. Matt was one of the first people I told about my cancer diagnosis, it was only days after his return home, and I think he was in as much shock as I was; however, he assured me that everything was going to be okay.

Fast forward a few weeks to where he asked me to be his date to the post-deployment ball. I have never been more honored to be attached to someone’s hip than Matthews. In fact I have never been more proud of a person than I am him, his work ethic, his dedication, his drive, his sense of humor, the sacrifices he’s made, all of which are qualities that I admired about him.  In a conversation over dinner, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and of course, I couldn’t turn that awesome offer down.

You may be asking what the point of telling our ‘love story’ has to do with my cancer journey. Matthew had every reason to run away and turn his back on me but instead he pursued me and wanted to be by my side through it all. He was committed, he was all in.  *Cue tears now* I was going to become really sick, and no one knew the extent of how sick I was going to be. He knew that I was facing a monster that was set out to destroy me; that I was going to lose my hair, gain weight, get sick, receive scars, have possible infertility issues, and change my physique permanently. If that isn’t unconditional love, I don’t know what is. We built the foundation of our relationship, we built something on what tears other couples apart (3% divorce rate for active duty members in 2014, and 21% divorce rate for woman with a serious illness). He assured me that this was only going to be a hiccup in the grand scheme of things. I’m blessed and so grateful to have such an amazing support team and so many people loving me through this journey.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYNOXRifXKQ

http://www.military.com/daily-news/2015/02/25/military-divorce-rate-hits-lowest-level-in-10-years.html

http://www.cnn.com/2011/LIVING/07/21/sick.couples.o/

 

A Series Of Events- Part 2

The next month and a half was full of several trips to the hospital for appointments; here are a few of the major ones:

March 30, 2016

This is the first time I met with my oncologist Dr. Thakar. I walked in to the department to register and when I looked around; all I saw were people with white hair. I certainly felt like an odd ball, that I didn't belong here. He answered all of the questions we had regarding chemotherapy. He gave us his opinion on what chemotherapy treatment plan he recommended. The plan to being cancer free was to undergo chemotherapy until October or November, complete surgery a month later, and do radiation after if needed, and complete ten years of hormonal therapy.  We discussed how fast I should start treatment, and if I was interested in freezing my eggs. I left this appointment with more questions than I went in with. I was being forced to make decisions about my life that was never in a million years even crossed my mind. I found out that until a plan was set in stone my life was chaotic and frustrating. Not knowing what your next year and half consists of is one of the worst things about cancer, the unknown- your life basically turns into a mess, a mess that you really have no control over.

March 31, 2016

One side effect that chemotherapy has is hair loss. After doing some research I found out that most breast cancer patients lose their hair within the first two weeks of starting chemotherapy. As I have always had relatively long hair I was nervous to see myself in the mirror being bald. As cancer takes all your control of your life away, I wanted to have control over losing my hair. Even getting trims at the hairdresser in the past was traumatic for me. Heck, there was a time in my life where I only would get one hair cut a year, however, I had nothing left to lose. So, on this day, I just walked into a salon at the mall and had them give me a pixie cut- and I LOVED it!

April 4, 2016

Another potential side effect of chemotherapy is that it can affect your heart. Dr. Thakar ordered for me to get an echocardiogram to get a baseline of my heart before starting chemo. An echocardiogram is a test of the action of the heart using ultrasound waves to produce a visual display. This appointment was pretty neat because you get to see and hear your heart. As always, Mom was at this appointment and she teared up stating, “The last time I heard your heartbeat, was when you were inside of me.” She’s been amazing throughout this entire process, and I am so grateful for everything she has done for me.

Read Morea about Echos Here: http://www.webmd.com/heart-disease/echocardiogram          

April 6, 2016

Today was the day we (Mom, Dad and I) would venture into New York City to receive a second opinion at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC). MSKCC was amazing, their staff was so friendly and accommodating I was able to meet with several key players that help treat this disease without having appointments for many of them. I realized while I was there, sitting in the waiting room that there are several young woman under the age of 40 that have been diagnosed with breast cancer. Breast cancer isn’t as taboo in young people as many would think; and in a sense, that was comforting. Dr. Comen, gave us her recommended chemotherapy treatment plan, as did Dr. Kristein about surgery. It was a long day, and now I had to make decisions. The worst part about this is making decisions, I rarely can decide what to have for dinner let alone make life changing decisions about my health. However, I had no choice.

 

A Series Of Events-Part 1

The next month and a half was full of several trips to the hospital for appointments; here are a few of the major ones:

March 24, 2016

A little under a week later I found myself with my dad, stepdad and mom in the office of general surgery. The girl that never broke a bone, never has been really sick, the only surgery she had was a tonsillectomy, was meeting with a breast surgeon. A surgeon that specialized in getting rid of breast cancer—what was going on?! I sat there with my pages upon pages of questions I had for this entire process I was about to begin. It hit me, right there in that office, I had cancer and my life will never be the same, ever.  I’m usually good at holding back tears, but something about this topic made me cry, an inconsolable cry, and it has taken a while to know that it is okay to cry. I met my nurse navigator, who would be the middle man during this entire process. She explained the type of cancer I had, and answered all the questions that she could answer. Then we met with Dr. Gillott, the breast surgeon. He stated that I was the youngest patient he ever had as he examined me. I have come in first several times from various things in my life, and I have wanted to be first at the many things I have pursued, but I never imagined nor did I want to be first at this. His recommendation was a bilateral mastectomy (a surgery to remove both breasts), although I learned that, that is not the only option when it comes to surgery. I really liked Dr. Gillott, and I felt like we clicked, so imagine my emotions when he told me he would be retiring in June and they hadn’t found his replacement yet.  This added a lot of stress, panic, and additional questions that I was not expecting during this process.

March 25, 2016

My cancer is fueled by hormones, which means that my birth control (which controls my hormones) had to go. To remove the Nexplanon in my arm; they give a numbing shot, and cut the skin where the Nexplanon is placed to get it out. What would have been a five minute procedure turned into a half hour procedure, as there was an issue upon removal. Scar number 1 of who knows how many.

March 25, 2016

This was one of the more challenging appointments I had. An MRI is a test that uses magnetic field and pulses of radio wave energy to take pictures of organs and structures inside the body. A breast MRI is more invasive than mammography because a contrast agent is given through an IV before the procedure. You lie face down with your breasts almost in how I can describe them as bottomless squares. The procedure itself is painless once you get your IV put in, but it is extremely loud- it almost sounds like a jackhammer. They give you headphones and let you chose whatever music you want to listen to from Sirius XM Radio you want. They give you a call button that you hold in your hands, you have to lay completely still for the entire process. They take a series of pictures and midway through the procedure they inject the dye (contrast agent) to enhance and improve the pictures.  Overall, the entire process is probably an 45 minutes to an hour.

Almost one hour of lying there in your own thoughts, in a machine that is as big as a car, that sounds as loud as a spaceship taking off- okay that’s doable. They got me all hooked up and they pushed me into the machine. When the machine first started the sound scared the living daylights out of me, something that I just was not expecting. The kind staff at Guthrie- Sayre, allow you to choose what station you want to listen to. I chose to listen to Hits 1 (today’s hits), out of all the hits that could be played during that seemingly short amount of time was Charlie Pouth’s ‘One Call Away’. One week from being diagnosed, one day from being told I was going to lose both my breasts that my appearance as a whole was going to change completely, was this a joke? Was this song really playing during this procedure? I felt my eyes start to water, and I knew that I was on the verge of ugly crying. I laid there in complete silence as the tears poured out of my eyes. I was crying so hard, my breathing became erratic, my nose started to run, and here I had to lie completely still. I couldn’t sit up, I couldn’t wipe my nose, so I laid there; I was determined to not hit the call button, I wanted to get this appointment over with. It took the next few songs for me to collect my composure. However, I was embarrassed when they pulled me out of the machine, for looking like such a mess.

Read Morea bout MRI’s here: http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/magnetic-resonance-imaging-mri#1

Charlie Pouth’s One Call Away: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxuY9FET9Y4