No Not a TV Show, Cancer - Ductal carcinoma in situ by Barbara L. Steinberg
January 9th! Follow-up mammogram – just the right breast. The last time this happened it was nothing.
I sit waiting for them to tell me I can dress and leave.
The radiologist wants to see me. “My sister’s waiting. Get her, please!” I need an extra pair of ears, since I stopped hearing seconds ago.
In a back room large sheets of film – my right breast – line a light screen. The radiation tech says something about abnormal clusters of calcification.
“Your doctor will schedule a biopsy. 85% of the time it’s nothing,” he says. Two friends were recently diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. So I’m thinking, “Hey, the stats have to be in my favor.” We leave and I embrace the number – 85%. I tell almost no one. No need to raise undue concern.
January 18th! They call my name and for the third time in less than a month I am disrobing in a closet-sized room.
I am grateful the radiologist and surgeon are women. After all, it’s my breast. They take me into the room: X-ray machines. Screens. Table. The table is well-padded and warm. On my stomach, facing left. Right arm straight to my side. Left arm stretched above my head. The technician says repeatedly not to move. Locating the calcification is tricky. If I move, it could be missed when they biopsy.
My right breast drops through an opening in the table. X-rays locate the “area of concern.” The surgeon reiterates verbiage about local anesthesia – there will be a little pinch, but she’ll go slowly. I wince slightly. Then some pressure. Not much more.
Once numb, there’s a whining noise. I envision something like a screwdriver spinning into my breast. I don’t ask to see the device, but do see a clear tube running under the table and bits of red. It’s over quickly. “You’ll probably have some bruising.” The technician says.
The bruising lasted for weeks! The answer came sooner. Breast cancer. Actually, lucky me, I got the best kind! Ductal carcinoma in situ or DCIS. There’s a lot of debate as to the nature of this “cancer” and what you should do or not do. I don’t know about anyone else, but when someone says there’s a possible cancer in your body I only knew that I wanted it out! I was not willing to take the “let’s just wait and see” approach.
You know that new car you bought and suddenly everyone seems to be driving that car? So it goes with breast cancer. Everyone seems to be driving this car. Almost every day I meet someone either new behind the wheel or an experienced driver. Suddenly, the car key was in my hand.
March 11th! Lumpectomy followed by six weeks of radiation. Cakewalk, trust me! So many people supported me through this process, but I very much want to thank doctors Amirikia Ryu, and Chinn, all of the Sutter Cancer Center staff, and Svetlana.
