Debi's
Story
...a
personal cancer journey
When I
was diagnosed with breast cancer in February of 1999, I found
myself searching for stories of other women who had fought the
battles I was facing. I soon discovered there are no
strangers amongst women who are coping with breast cancer. We
are held together by a common thread...one of strength and
perserverence.
From the beginning of my
struggle, I wanted to make a difference by holding hands
with those who were dealing with similar circumstances.
Thus, my website was born! I hope you find
comfort in knowing someone else has paved a road you may be
traveling on. Above all, I pray you gain strength from the
realization that you never have to endure cancer alone.
My journey is one of
many you can find online, but it has it's unique
moments. It is a story of multiple
surgeries--including reconstruction, and the side effects
which followed. It is an encounter which would be
incomplete without the support and prayers of my family and
friends.
Thank you for taking the
time to experience my deepest thoughts. I wish you peace
and healing throughout your cancer walk...and hope you will
join our group very soon!
Debi,
Founder
Discovery
As
I listened to the statistics flow from my doctor's mouth in
waves of slow motion, I knew he must have wanted to be
anywhere but there...anywhere, but telling his patient
who had just awakened from a hysterectomy that she would need
a bilateral mastectomy as soon as possible.
I
sensed the terror rise within my body as I heard the dreaded
phrase, "You have breast cancer."
No mammogram had found my disease. No lump had been
discovered. I was diagnosed with a very rare form
of ductal carcinoma in situ, (DCIS), which had spread
multifocally throughout my ducts. Even though it was
microscopic, this horrible monster had ravaged most of my
ductal system, leaving me with only one choice for survival:
removal of both breasts.
My first reaction was
one of astonishment. This couldn't be
happening to me! Wasn't it bad enough that I was lying
there with staples across my stomach and the knowledge that I
could never give birth? When I was put to
sleep a few hours earlier, I thought that was as bad as
it could get. How could I magically awaken with breast
cancer? Although I had endured fibrocystic breasts
for many years, all my mammograms had been clear.
My doctor had decided to perform a breast biopsy at the
same time of my hysterectomy--just to make sure everything was
okay. But neither he nor I was prepared for the
horrifying results.
My thoughts
immediately drifted to my family...my ten year old son...my
husband and soulmate. I wondered if I could survive
another surgery so soon after the last one. I was
terrified I might never see my son grow up into a young
man...drive his first car...or go out on his first date.
I
questioned myself too, thinking I might have caused my
cancer...perhaps by eating too much or exercising too
little...or taking fertility pills over fifteen years ago.
My mind was reeling, and all the while, the doctor continued to
explain the advantages of finding my cancer early enough to
avoid chemotherapy. Even still, I didn't feel very lucky.
It took a long while to see any good hiding beneath my
darkness of reality.
Suddenly,
my husband and I found ourselves alone in that dreary hospital
room. We clung to each other in desperation, crying for
what seemed like hours. I felt his pulse beat through
mine as our tears faded into heavy sobs. At that very
moment, I cried for him. I didn't believe he deserved a
wife like me. He didn't deserve the horror of cancer.
I whispered those fears to him as he wrapped his arms around
me even tighter. He looked directly in my eyes and said
the sweetest words I have ever heard..."I didn't fall in
love with your breasts, Debi, or any of your other body parts.
I fell in love with what's inside your heart."
From
then on, I held a glimmer of hope. I didn't know
how in the world I was going to make it, but I knew with
God's help and my husband's love, I would never have to make
it alone.
The
Big “C”
Cancer
wasn’t willing to wait for me to take a deep breath. I had to
bring it along for the ride. It accompanied me while I was
recovering from my hysterectomy, never apologizing for it’s
terror. No matter how hard I tried to assure myself of my
doctor's encouraging words, the remnants of fright were still
there, hiding deep inside, jolting me from sleep.
I
had always thought if they found breast cancer, it would be in
the form of a tiny lump which could be removed before it
had the chance to do any damage. I never dreamed there was a
cancer like DCIS which could hide in the ducts and manifest
itself in several locations. Besides, I thought I had done
everything possible to find cancer before it would progress to
that stage. I couldn’t believe years and years of
regular mammograms plus self examinations hadn’t found
this plague.
In
addition, I became aware that losing a breast or two didn't seem
like a big deal to some people. While preparing for my
mastectomies, I had a few women tell me it wouldn’t matter if
they lost their breasts because they’d never had any to begin
with. I found such advice startling. Others
couldn’t understand why I was having such a hard time
accepting my fate. They felt I should be able to “get over
it” and move on. After all, I was trading my breasts for
my life...and to them, there was no decision to make.
Of
course, I knew I could live without my breasts. I was even
willing to lose them in order to regain my life. But, for
me, the loss was like a death in our family. I longed to
grieve without being judged for my feelings. Thank goodness my
closest friends and loved ones listened to my concerns. With
their tender touch, I was able to accept the inevitable and plan
my surgeries.
Courage
Since I had undergone an abdominal
hysterectomy, I needed to wait eight agonizing weeks to recover
before I could go through another procedure. During that
time, I was basically quarantined due to the flu that was raging
throughout our town. Every day was a challenge for me to stay
positive and hopeful.
The nights were devastating since I would
wake up in sweats from surgically-induced menopause. To top
it off, I developed vertigo which stayed with me for almost a
year. I would awaken abruptly with my head spinning out of
control. When I tried to get out of bed, I would fall on my
hands and knees...disoriented and terrified.
I knew I had to make a plan that would help
me rise out of the depression I was plunging into. I decided to
join a support group at my oncologist’s office. I truly
believe my attitude changed in a remarkable way after meeting
those special women. Our weekly encounters pulled me
through one of the toughest times of my life. Their
experiences taught me the value of validation and sparked my
interest in wanting to reach out to others.
Up until that point, I hadn’t talked to a
single person who had ever dealt with breast cancer. As a young
woman who was still in her child-bearing years, I felt like an
isolated victim who was being stripped of her entire woman-hood.
When I met my support group friends, I soon discovered I was not
alone with my fears or my anger. We hashed it
out...sometimes to the point of tears...until the pain was
softened by discovery. I learned a valuable lesson there which
will inspire me forever...
So much of courage is misunderstood. It is not really how
you do it, but simply that you do it at all.
Reconstruction
It
wasn't long before my doctors were saying I was the perfect
candidate for immediate breast reconstruction since I wouldn't
need chemotherapy. I know in retrospect that there is
nothing "immediate" about reconstruction, but at the
time, I thought it was the best idea I had ever heard.
Basically, the immediate part meant I could have plastic surgery
performed right after my mastectomies and wake up with the
beginning of new breasts. I liked that idea.
So, for weeks
leading up to my surgery, I spent several hours in the plastic
surgeon's office gazing at pictures of other women's chests. I
had about ten different procedures to choose from. With
names like TRAM and DORSI, I thought I was being abducted by foreign
aliens! It was a difficult decision, but I finally chose
to go with bilateral expanders which would prepare me for saline
implants. At least I understood what implants were.
The world of
plastic surgery was a fascinating discovery. It was also
very different from anything I've ever experienced. The
idea of waking up from surgery with something besides a flat
chest was appealing. Therefore, I was incredibly thankful
for my plastic surgeon and the progress made in the world of
breast reconstruction.
For
me, it was never a question of vanity. It was all about
symmetry. If I had lost an arm or a leg, I would have
wanted it replaced too. My breasts were a part of me, and
I wanted them back.
Reconstruction
gave me hope. The implant procedure seemed
"do-able" because it was only a two hour surgery.
I didn't want any more hours under the knife than necessary.
That's where the expanders came in. After the
mastectomies, the plastic surgeon would begin his work before
the skin was reattached. He would insert two balloon-type
implants under the muscles in my chest to hold them in
place. Right away, I would wake up with two little mounds.
Then, several weeks later, I would return to the doctor's office
so he could fill them with saline through a little port.
Once a month,
he would continue to fill the expanders with saline until I
liked my new breast size. I would then return
to the hospital and have the expanders removed through the same
scars as my mastectomies. The last step was being fitted
with permanent saline implants. It sounded easy enough!
Letting
go...
There’s something about a hospital
corridor that leaves me hollow. Perhaps it’s because
I’ve spent a great deal of my life there...waiting to be
abruptly escorted into operating rooms. If I wanted to
feel sudden fear rise in my heart, all I would need to do is
remember the touch of a sterile, cold gurney or the sight of
those dimly lit hospital halls.
On the day of my mastectomies, those halls
felt as if they were crashing in on me. I thought I was caught
in the middle of a horrific movie scene. I kept waiting for
someone to stop the film, but they never did. I kept
wondering if the doctor might pop in the room and call off the
whole procedure. He never did.
Only a few hours before, my husband and I
had spent a sleepless night trying to say goodbye to a body we
had known for many years. I can’t explain the emotions wrapped
up in those moments and I’m not sure I would want to. What I
do know is when you share something as special as a loving bond
between two people, cancer hurts the caregiver as much as it
hurts the patient. As I watched my husband grieve for me,
my loss took on new meaning. I knew we were in this
together...all the way.
I can still see his worried face as the
nurse began to wheel me down that narrow hallway. Hollow tears
were flowing down his cheeks as he slowly waved goodbye. I
glanced over my shoulder several times to watch him fade into
the distance. I thought if I could only hold onto him and
never let go, surely none of this would ever happen.
Suddenly, a tiny voice cried out at the end
of the corridor. “Wait!,” the voice murmured. “Wait just a
minute!”
The nurse turned the wheel chair around as I
saw one of my best friends standing there with my husband.
She ran up to my chair and threw her arms around me. We cried
together, but never spoke a word. As I was escorted into
the operating room, I watched time slip away through the
expressions of my loved ones.
Each of us knew my "old body" needed to
leave before I could gain a new one. While being lifted
onto that frigid gurney, I began to make peace with the fact that
it was time to let go.
A
Butterfly's Journey
For
over a year, I have postponed the ending to my story
because I didn't know how to put it into words. You
see, five months after enduring a painful reconstruction
process, I lost my expanders due to a terrible infection.
What came afterwards was the realization I would never
be the same person again...no matter what my chest looked like.
Cancer changed me, but not in the way you might think.
After I lost my breasts for a second time, I
decided to spend my energy helping others cope with their loss.
In the paragraphs above, I was feeling "the
grief"...and there are still days when I wake up with
tears on my pillow. However, several seasons
have passed...and my journey has taken me to a higher
understanding. I have learned to laugh
again...to love again...and to trust my body again. Cancer
has given me an awareness I would have never known otherwise.
I believe "to be a survivor...is
to know the journey of a butterfly." In the
beginning, I lived in a cocoon...unable to take a breath due to
the fear which gripped me. But after the fear subsided, I
emerged to be stronger than ever before. God has
given me a voice..and the message I want to share is simple:
You never have to be alone. There are
wonderful resources available to you...no matter where you are
in your journey. If you have lost hope along the way, let
Friends In Touch help you carry your load! We are here for
you, and even though your path will never be easy,
it can be softened by the experiences and prayers of others.
Your friend
in touch,
Debi
