So it starts...

Confused, angry, sad, unsure, resigned, discouraged, afraid. All these "bad" emotions are running through me today. Yet, the dominant feeling I have is one of determination; we now have an enemy to fight, and believe we will beat it. Strangely empowering.


Background:


My wife has a significant family history with breast cancer. Her Mom was diagnosed 30 years ago and died two years later, and her aunt (her Mom's sister) had the same experience just a few years later. Both were 35 when they were diagnosed. My wife turned 35 in March.


Saturday afternoon, 9/18/2010 my wife noticed a lump in her left breast. We both agreed that it seemed suspect, and that we should get her to the doctor as soon as reasonably possible. We called her Gynecologist, Dr. Eyvazzadeh, Monday morning (9/20), and went in to see him that afternoon. Due in part to her family history, he recommended that the lump be excised (not simply biopsied) as soon as possible, and referred us to a surgeon, Dr. Gardiner.


We saw Dr. Gardiner for a consultation on Tuesday,  9/21. He concurred with Dr. Eyvazzadeh, and scheduled surgery for that Thursday, 9/23. He noted that the lump could simply be a cyst or some other benign growth, and that we shouldn't speculate too much. The surgery took place at the surgery center in the San Ramon Regional Medical Center. Christina was in surgery for less than an hour.


Dr. Gardiner met me in the waiting room as Christina was in recovery. He was unwilling to speculate on what the lump was, and what the diagnosis would be, but would have pathology reports in a few days. He had me schedule a follow-up consultation for the following Tuesday (9/28) in his office to perform any post-op care (bandage removal, etc) and to review the pathology report.


We spent the weekend dealing with the pain medication and healing process from the surgery, and trying not to focus on what the diagnosis would be. I knew that cancer was possible, however it just didn't seem likely. Friends and family were acting very strangely, carefully gauging our mental state and probing gently for details. I knew they were scared, or at least cautious, but didn't really share their level of concern.


Christina seemed completely focused on her recovery from surgery. We didn't talk about what-if's and what-might-be's too much. The "C" word came up only once or twice between us, but with a sense of detachment and disbelief. Still, the anxiety level was pretty high, as we waited for Tuesday's consult.


"It's cancer". With those 2.5 words, I immediately shifted into another mode. I feel almost coldly detached from reality, as if I'm a boxer walking to the ring, oblivious of the screaming crowd around him. I'm scared, but I know that fear is something to re-direct and move through, not run from, or fight.


Infultrating Ductal Carcinoma. From the quick googling I've done, it sounds like it is the most common form of breast cancer. That gives us some reassurance, in that it's not some exotic, hard-to-treat variation.


The next steps are an MR scan and a genetic test for BRCA1 and BRCA2. These, followed by a lymph node biopsy, will give us the information to lay out a plan of action for dealing with this.


It's been a total of 11 days since this started. I can't believe the response we've received from our medical team. Our friends and family have been solid, bringing food and short visits, and many many supportive calls.