A week later, I saw the head honcho, a lovely lady, who explained kindly to my OH (who I had brought along this time), that it was breast cancer, but it was all very treatable these days and there was a lot they could offer me. OH seemed vastly relieved that I wasn't in imminent danger of dropping dead, so it was worth taking him along for that, and the occasional hand pat, but I'm not sure he actually took another word in. Fortunately, I'd taken one of my very best friends in as duty note taker and question asker. I had managed to list a lot of questions in an old french exercise book I'd found in my eldest daughter's bedroom. Once I'd ripped out the three pieces of homework she'd managed to complete in a year, I was good to go.
In actual fact, there were a lot of questions I didn't think to ask, but I did find out this:
The tumour is 3cms in size. That's quite big.
It is oestregen receptive. That means tamoxifen after any other treatment.
The treatment is likely to send me hurtling into the menopause, but no, I won't get away with being vile for an entire year or two. (Watch me)
I could either have a lumpectomy, followed by radiotherapy, or a mammogram. Both/either of which may be followed by chemo, possibly.
The FNA of my lymph nodes was clear, but don't get too excited about that. They want to strip rather more out of my armpit during the op.
Which would be within three or four weeks. I'd be contacted with the dates within the next day or two.
About Me
- Triphazard
- 41, mother, wife, friend, daugher. And I have breast cancer. This is somewhere for me to let off steam, share the funny side of it all (and there is a funny side) and generally keep track of my journey before my brain loses bits and pieces here and there and it all gets rosy tinted and possibly completely inaccurate.
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