STRUGGLES
Life… As I Knew It
The Day I Began the Rest of My Life
On December 15, 2019, I sent a message to a select group of people. It said:
“Eight days ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I have a tumor on my right breast that, after going through a Core Needle Biopsy, was confirmed to be malignant.
I have been undergoing different procedures in Asian Breast Center since the beginning of the month, and I intend to continue having their clinic take care of me as my condition progresses. I am currently waiting for the results of my Breast Panel. It will tell us what the subtype of my cancer is. In turn, the subtype will allow my doctors to determine the treatment needed post-op.
Although there is no date yet, I am scheduled to under a Lumpectomy + Sentinel Lymph Node Biopsy + Axillary Lymph Node Dissection soon. I am not depressed, and I am trying my best to avoid unnecessary stress. But I would like to think that my husband and I are taking it well, considering all things.”
It was strange when I think about it. Before that, life was ordinary — I went to work, did my job, hung out with my husband, and, occasionally, with my friends. My husband and I were looking forward to the holidays. We thought of traveling north to be with his family and escape the drama that comes with mine. All I needed to do at that time was survive a couple of session days and Corplan. Then I could rest.
One Saturday changed all that.
It began with a consultation with an OB-GYN (my Ortho’s wife, since I didn’t have a regular one). I told her I had a lump in my breast, and I honestly didn’t know what I should be doing about it. When she checked it, I took one look at her face and realized that waiting for so many months before finally going to the doctor wasn’t the best idea. I went in for a consultation and ended up scheduled for an ultrasound. She, my now-OB-GYN requested a rushed reading — bless her heart — told me to pick up my results on Monday and go straight to Dra. Alonso, who was a surgeon. She did say that I was probably going to need a biopsy.
So Monday came. November 25th. I remember all the dates so clearly through all of this. The plan was to pick up my ultrasound results, have my consultation with Dra. Alonso, and then head to the office to attend Mancom. All I had asked for was the morning off. It was supposed to be another ordinary day.
Then I saw the results of my ultrasound.
BI-RADS 5. Highly suggestive of malignancy. Almost certainly cancer; appropriate action should be taken.
And there it was, in black and white. CANCER.
I never made it to the office that day. For the first time in a long while, I felt afraid. And not your ordinary “OMG-I-have-session-tomorrow-I’m-scared-I’m-going-to-bomb” kind of fear. In recent years, so many people we knew were diagnosed with cancer. I always thought that it was so much more common now than it was before. But I never thought that it would be so common that I would have it.
I had my first biopsy the same day I got my ultrasound results. The lab said it usually took them 10 to 14 days to release the results. But since my doctor has asked them to rush it, I would probably get it earlier. So much rushing. There were so many signs that I wonder why I never say any of them.
I was never the sit-around-and-do-nothing-while-waiting type, so I looked up BI-RADS 5 as soon as possible (I’m purposely leaving out all the moments that I cried, but there were several). That’s how I found out it meant I had a 95% chance of malignancy. I told several people at that point. Some opted to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Some opted to focus on the 5% chance I would be cleared. But I knew it then — even without the results, without anyone telling me — I knew it my heart I had cancer.
When my biopsy results arrived, it said that I had “hemorrhagic smears”. My husband, bless his heart, held on to that. I knew he was hoping against hope that it meant I was fine. I tried to believe it, but I didn’t. Dra. Alonso, thankfully, went out of the country the following week, so I took it as an opportunity to get a second opinion. So I switched doctors and found myself in Asian Breast Center.
ABC works fast. As in fast. The first time I was there, Dr. Norman went through my entire medical history, gave me a bedside ultrasound (where I found out that the mass on my breast — we all still referred to it as a “mass” at this point — was NOT 2 cm. It was BIGGER.) and had me undergo my first mammogram. He also told me to come back the following day for a Core Needle Biopsy.
Core Needle Biopsy. New term. It sounded scary, so of course, I looked it up. I found out it was a procedure that would allow them to take tissue samples from my mass using a LARGE NEEDLE. ABC was kind enough to give pre- and post-biopsy instructions, which freaked me out more because now it sounded like a complicated procedure. I also found out that I needed a sports bra, which caused additional stress because… Well, do I look like someone who owns a sports bra?
Anyway, Core Biopsy day came. Dra. Buenaflor (now forever known as Dra. Tisay), my Radiologist, explained the procedure. They started prepping me, and I knew there was no turning back. My doctor discovered my mass was vascular — surrounded by veins. It finally explained the hemorrhagic smears. My first biopsy was done by feel — and the doctor had hit the veins, not the mass. It took Dra. Tisay a bit of time to find the right angle for the needle guide, but he finally did, and we began.
The Core Needle Biopsy was not as painless as the Fine Needle, even with anesthetics. They took three samples — the first was painless; the second compensated for the fact that I didn’t feel anything during the first. The third was anticlimactic since the previous one hurt so bad. After that, things went pretty fast. Soon I was being cleaned up and was helped into my newly-bought sports bra.
Going through Core Needle meant I could not carry any excess weight on my right arm. I had to sleep with a sports bra on for a day and had to ice it over the succeeding ones, but that was mostly it. I was slowly getting it back to normal when, on December 7th, I got a message from Dra. Tisay asking if she could call.
It was a Saturday. I knew she didn’t have clinic hours in ABC on weekends, so I knew what it meant: my biopsy results had come in.
“I got the report from pathology already,” she said. “It’s a confirmed malignancy.”
And just like that, my mass was now a tumor, and I kissed the 5% chance of being cleared goodbye.
I was 38 years old, happily married to my wonderful husband, with a 10-year corporate career under my belt… and with cancer. And that… that was the last day of my life as I knew it.
