Chapter Two

Getting ready for bed one June evening in 2009, I felt a tiny lump, again in the left breast. I don’t think I slept at all that night and the next day I was in my doctor’s office. She performed a sonogram that day and although she saw “something”, I was told it was probably scar tissue.  I told her that “probably” was not good enough and followed up with two other doctors, who told me the same thing. Once again, there was something inside of me that was not buying their reassurances and I pushed for a biopsy.

The doctor who performed the biopsy remained convinced that it was scar tissue. In fact he said he would try to get the results back quickly so that I could stop this “needless worrying” and head off with my mother for a wellness retreat in New York.   I spent the weekend with my family and tried my best not to think of the tests that were being performed. Even as I ran through the sprinklers with my nieces and nephews, nothing could stop my mind from racing about the cancer. 

My mother and I arrived at the retreat Monday morning and we were unpacking the bags from the car when my cell phone rang. When I saw that it was my doctor’s number, I prayed that it would be his nurse on the other end (nurses can give the good news, doctors always had to give the bad news.) When I heard his voice on the other end, a wave of fear rushed through. All I remember are his words “I don’t know what to say – but the cancer is back” and then I collapsed into my mother’s arms. As I sobbed uncontrollably, I asked my mother “I just want to live happily ever after – is this too much to ask?”

We put the bags back in the car and headed back to DC. When I met with the surgeon the next day, he went over the options  – a double mastectomy being the most drastic.  Since this new tumor was so small – 4 mm - he did not believe that a mastectomy was necessary.  After reminding him that I had undergone radiation and medication for the past two years, I told him I was done playing it safe. Point blank, I asked,  “If I were your daughter, what would you recommend?”  He paused for a few moments, and then said  “a double mastectomy."  

That was the moment I made my decision. While it was a huge decision, I made it with conviction. Having just had an MRI two months earlier (which did not detect anything), I knew I needed to deal with this aggressively and asked to have the surgery performed as soon as possible. Nine days later, I was on the gurney about to go into the operating room, tears running down my face. One of the doctors took my hand, and said, “Don’t worry – you are going to live happily ever after.”

The surgery went well and a month later I was at Sloan Kettering to meet yet another specialist to discuss further treatment options. When the doctor entered the room, followed by his entourage of assistants, he introduced himself, “I am Dr. Andrew Seidman, I have reviewed all of your reports and I am here to tell you that you are going to live happily after." I couldn’t believe my ears and immediately started crying. Having these words come from two different doctors after what I had said to my mother! And for the first time, I actually had not only resolve, but hope.