So ... about those lumps and bumps

W-a-a-a-a-y back on July 1, I wrote about two different "lumps" my oncologists were concerned about.  Well, the story of these two sets of lumps mushroomed into an entire summer saga.

First, the simpler story of the small, soft lumps on my forearms, back, and under my ribs. Initially, I had shown these new growths to Dr. C., my radiation oncologist, in Kelowna. Suspecting they were "lipomas", he wanted a biopsy of one on my forearm to confirm. The next day, the oncologist in Kamloops suggested removing an entire lump and having pathology done on it "just to be sure". While waiting for the phone to ring about an appointment with my initial surgeon, Dr. L-S, I lost count of the number of phone calls from Kelowna and Kamloops Cancer Agencies wondering why they didn't have results from either a biopsy or lump removal procedure. Am I supposed to be the go-between here? Seems to me that with modern computer technology, those sites should have been communicating with each other to get the scoop on what was happening. Apparently, no one bothered to inform Dr. C's office that I was no longer getting a biopsy done and I kept getting scolding voice mails to quit avoiding the hospital's calls and get the biopsy completed. Eventually, I saw Dr. L-S in late August when she confirmed (by physical examination only) that all of these new lumps are indeed fatty cysts called lipomas -- non-cancerous, nothing to worry about, just annoying lumps. If you are interested in self-diagnosing any lipomas, here is some more info. Lipoma Information

Second, the more complicated story of the lump by my mastectomy scar. Relatively speaking, the system moved FAST on this lump, which sets a cancer survivor's mind a-racing!

July 18th arrived -- the day of my ultrasound.  Now, an ultrasound is no big deal -- no scary tube to be maneuvered into, no Ativan to hide under the tongue for relaxation. It's merely some mucky goop on the skin, a "wand", and a computer screen. Once the ultrasound technician had clicked away taking pictures of the suspect area, she left the room to make sure the computer images were readable. While she was gone, I decided to be a non-compliant patient and sit up to check out what was on the screen. She had not one, but two, lesions listed beside the image, as well as measurements for each one. TWO LESIONS!!! I knew from past experience that "lesions" was NOT a word I wanted to hear. Laying back down, my thoughts started racing. The brain is an amazing, intricately-designed machine; however, it can also be a relentless, untameable beast. The latter was the case while I lay on the ultrasound table waiting for the tech to return to the room. Launching myself directly to "worst case scenario", I had both of the lesions being cancerous tumors. As tears rolled slowly out of the corner of my eyes and directly into my ears, a myriad of questions raced across my thoughts. How would I tell my girls my breast cancer had returned? Would I opt for chemo again or try medical marijuana or juicing? Would I need to have a ray-stay in Kelowna for more radiation treatments? All these fears and questions were compounded by the fact that when the tech returned she was followed closely by the radiologist! This is NEVER a good sign!!

The radiologist took over as wand-operator and located the "lesions" on the computer screen. Puzzled, he admitted he did not know what he was looking at ... "Could be scar tissue. Could be a blood vessel, could be ..., could be ..." Reassuring me these lesions did not have cancerous characteristics, he advised me that Dr. P would get a full report, but he was quite sure they were nothing to worry about.

On July 30th, when I arrived at Dr. P's office, I learned an MRI had been ordered to try to determine what these lesions actually were. HATE, HATE, HATE MRI's!!! Ativan definitely required! I endured the metal coffin on August 26th, and arrived at my surgeon's office later in the day to learn that, according to the radiologist's calculations, the lesions were thickened scar tissue and were nothing to worry about.

RELIEF!!!

Being caught in the whirlwind of constant phone calls, scans, MRI's, and doctor appointments had me teetering on the edge for several weeks through July and August. Feeling like I had been transported back to my post-diagnosis days, I found myself crying constantly, overwhelmed, and confused. Thank you to those of you who stood by me during this stressful time, reassuring me with undying support and love.

I'm definitely praying that every 6-month check-up does NOT  hold this much excitement ... or fear!!

"Feed your faith, and your fears will starve to death."

                                                                                                                        Author Unknown