This is Chapter 2 in the Cancer Memoir. Start with Chapter 1 here.
I was diagnosed on November 15, 2023, with stage 3 breast cancer.
I want to rewind a little. Before my diagnosis and starting my cancer journey, I was not aware of what really goes into receiving a breast cancer diagnosis. It is not just one mammogram and boom: you have a diagnosis. It is a combination of images and tests. My journey started with a mammogram, then an ultrasound, and four biopsies later, I had my diagnosis. I say all of this because a lot of this cancer journey is a hurry-up-and-wait adventure. (Does that sound familiar?)
That day in November, my life was rocked with just one phone call. As soon as my doctor told me I had cancer, my response to her was, “Am I going to die?” Her reply was, “Not today.” And we scheduled an appointment for me to see her the next day.
Hanging up the phone, I started to cry. I am not a crier. I am tough. Military life has thrown our family some curve balls, but I feel like military life has also given me extra amour to take on life challenges. A tidal wave of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. Shock, denial, anger and questioning how this could be happening to me. I don’t have time to be sick; I am young, my kids are young…this happens to 55-year-old women, not 40 year olds. Needless to say, I got zero sleep that night and had a notebook full of questions to ask my doctor the next day. Staying off of Google was one of the hardest things to do. The next morning, my husband, Jeremy, and I dropped off the kids at school and drove the 45 minutes to the doctor’s office.
When we sat down with Dr. W in her office, she handed me a piece of paper; this single, very detailed piece of paper was the game plan to saving my life. It had words on it I had never heard before, and unfamiliar abbreviations (very different from military ones that I have come to know). It was like learning a whole new language. After meeting with the tumor board about my case, Dr. W drew diagrams and wrote down my plan: chemotherapy, surgery and possibly radiation. She answered all our questions, took her time, and never rushed us. Dr. W is my general surgeon and told us that she would be handing things off to Dr. C, my oncologist; he would be the quarterback of my case for the next phase.
And just like the wave of emotions, the wave of medical appointments came crashing in. In less than a week, I had been told I had cancer and had a laundry list of tests on my calendar that needed to be done: a breast MRI, CT scan of my chest and abdomen, Brain MRI, Bone Density Test, Heart Test, PET scan and labs. Each test was a hurry-up and then wait for results. The hardest ones to wait for were my brain MRI and PET scan. The brain MRI would tell me if I had cancer in my head, and the PET scan would let me know if my cancer had spread. Waiting for these two test results was like waiting to get orders. I kept refreshing my MyChart to see if the results had been posted. I was literally holding my breath, not knowing what my future looked like. My brain MRI came back clear and my PET scan only showed my cancer spreading to my lymph nodes. This was some of the best news I had received since being diagnosed with cancer.
Okay, pausing here, my friend (I feel like we are friends now.) I know I have thrown a lot at you with the start of my cancer journey. It is a lot… and it is only the beginning. I want to leave you with a call to action. Call and make that appointment you have been putting off! If you have noticed something different, send your doctor a message. Your health matters. You matter.
Until next week, shine on my friends.
Come back every Friday to walk this journey with Stacy Bilodeau as part of the MilSpouse Memoirs, stories brought to you in chapters, one week at a time.