OK, So Maybe I Was Overly Optomistic

Today I had my two week followup with my surgeon and realized that I had probably made some overly optimistic assumptions regarding the probability of needing chemotherapy. I had known that if the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, chemo would probably be a given. No one told me that clear lymph nodes meant no chemo; I think I jumped to that conclusion on my own.

I have healed well from my surgery, but I learned today that the size of my tumor, at a little over 3 centimeters, means that my cancer was stage two. Before surgery, my MRI had shown that the tumor was larger than the mammograms and ultrasound had indicated. This is still considered early, but it does cross the line where chemotherapy is often recommended, so my surgeon is referring me to an oncologist to see if I'll need chemotherapy before proceeding with radiation treatments. That's a decision that will be made with the oncologist, but the surgeon thinks it's a definite possibility. 

My surgeon says that my age is a factor in this. If I were twenty years older, chemo wouldn't be considered, but at fifty-seven, I presumably have more years ahead of me and thus more time in which the cancer could recur. Also, at fifty-seven, I'd be able to tolerate chemo better than I would at seventy-seven. It was interesting that he chose the age of seventy-seven for comparison, because that's how old my mom was when she died of ALS.

I have often thought about how different a breast cancer diagnosis is from an ALS diagnosis. 

When my mom was diagnosed with ALS, the hardest thing to bear was the knowledge that medically there was nothing that could be done. On average, patients die within three years of diagnosis with ALS. Oh, there was one medication that for some patients extended life by a few months, but also had potential to decrease the quality of life. It was very expensive and made my mom sick, so she didn't continue with it.

When you are diagnosed with breast cancer, your head swims with possibilities: mastectomy, lumpectomy, chemotherapy, radiation treatments, hormone therapy. None of these prospects are pleasant, but they are all treatment options that for most women, have the potential to cure their cancer. 

For now, I'll try to refrain from assuming anything more about chemo and wait for my consultation with the oncologist next week.

Of course sooner or later, I and everyone I know is going to die of something. Having placed my faith in Christ, I am not afraid to die and neither was my mom. I'm not especially brave in the face of pain or suffering, though, and I confess I really like predictability. 

My breast cancer journey just got a little less predictable than I had assumed it was, but that does give me a new opportunity to grow in my faith.