I do not intend this to be a cancer blog. However, this first series of entries will be about cancer and my experience/coping mechanisms. This is the first in a series about what it actually takes to get through a cancer diagnosis — not just the medicine, but the parts nobody tells you about, like protecting your own headspace while everyone around you has opinions.
A couple of months ago, I was proud to say I was a Triple Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC) survivor by two years. My original cancer was in my left breast, was pretty advanced and therefore, I had to be treated aggressively. Which meant 6 months of chemotherapy and immunotherapy on the front end to reduce the cancer and hopefully positively impact my lymph nodes that were involved. This was followed by surgery, then radiation, and finally chemotherapy again (the chemo before surgery was to shrink the tumor and see how it responded; the chemo after was to make sure nothing survived).
For those who are not familiar with this type of journey, it means that I had:
- An Oncologist (manages chemotherapy and immunotherapy)
- A Breast Surgeon (specializes in the surgery required for the removal of the cancer)
- A Plastic Surgeon (decides where the cuts are going to be and if I decided on reconstructive surgery, what my options were and perform the reconstruction).
- A Radiation Oncologist (manages the radiation therapy)
- My PCP (though not integral, was very much apart of the process)
I live in Delaware and opted to go to the Helen Graham Center where all these doctors are in separate practices, but locked in through the ChristianaCare Hospital System. I will say for me, this was an awesome decision versus going into Pennsylvania or New Jersey to go to larger facilities that tend to advertise, which always made me wary. If you are so good, to me, it should be a word of mouth referral, not a ton of commercials. Mind you, I get there are some folks who won’t have a network of folks who can provide you suggestions, so those commercials are starting points.
So, a bit about my journey. Initially, I thought the radiologist was just trying to get extra money out of me by ordering extra mammograms. I have dense breasts so, I assumed the worst here in the US, being a money grab from copays and insurance payments. However, the diagnosis came and I did have breast cancer. I was 48 years old and the future was so uncertain. TNBC is very aggressive and since so much of my breast was impacted and lymph nodes were involved (the cancer moved into lymph nodes and had the ability to travel to other parts of my body to cause more issues). I’ll admit, I probably went through every stage of grief, but my primary feeling the day I was diagnosed, was anger.
But I’m the type of person who will continue to do what was planned, which was proceed to go on my business trip to northern New Jersey to observe one of my employees at work. My sister-in-law also travels a lot for work and met me at my hotel and snuggled me that night because she’d gone through this with her mom and sister previously and she knew I needed the support, even if I didn’t know it yet. I tend to turtle and she made me vent a little bit, but let me sulk as well.
Side note, if you are able surround yourself with people who understands you and your mentality. I don’t complain, I kinda suck it up and go on. My parents were quietly supportive and there. My sister-in-law attended my consult with the breast surgeon, taking copious notes throughout and asking the questions I didn’t know to ask. Her sister attended my first oncology appointment. Mom was with me the day of the mastectomy. I had friends fly in to spend time with me and show support during this time as well. But the MVP was my baby brother, he is the best hype man you can ever get. I called him the day I found out and he refocused me, “what’s next? All you can do is do it. You got this. Be positive, it helps.” And he is my person and kept me normal in my outside of work life with outings and just relaxing with family. I also maintained my work life with only missing surgery day and the day after.
Looking back, the thing that got me through wasn’t just the doctors — it was being deliberate about who I let close during the worst of it. My brother’s energy, my sister-in-law’s notes, my mom showing up on surgery day — none of that was random. I chose it, or let it happen, because I knew what I needed even when I couldn’t say it out loud.
Not everyone will get that right. For every person who showed up exactly how I needed them to, there was someone else who showed up with advice I never asked for — miracle cures, “have you tried,” “my cousin’s friend survived by doing X.” That’s its own story, and it deserves its own post. So next time: what to do when everyone around you suddenly becomes an oncologist.
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