Mom had her lumpectomy yesterday and all went very, very well. The lymph nodes weren't involved at all and they were able to remove all the tumor. After having some time to think about my initial response, I wonder if I was reacting out of fear and shock.
The original doctor she saw wanted to just do a radical mastectomy with big, old fashioned radiation and get it over with. My wonderful, intelligent, calm sister arranged for a second opinion. The second doctor was able to do a tiny lumpectomy, grab a couple lymph nodes and stitch her up. Mom sees the oncologist in a day or two to discuss having a balloon inserted in the incision area with some radioactive "seeds" to do the dosing instead of the old fashioned radiation therapy method. She'll have to be on estrogen and progesterone inhibitors for five years, but the kind of cancer she has responds well to that kind of treatment.
Now THAT is a prognosis I think I could live with. I'm not altogether sure it's worth dosing my breasts with radiation yearly, but it's not the death sentence they would regularly hand out to cancer victims when I was a child.
In researching risk factors, I found that my mom's tendency might have been artificially inflated. She had a total hysterectomy in the 1970s and has been on estrogen ever since. That will inflate your odds considerably! So, me in denial says, "Blame this whole fiasco on the doctors who've had her on estrogen for 30 years even after her aunt had a double radical at age 80! It has nothing to do with your genes!" Hm. I'll have to write more as my thinking progresses on this. I'm not sure I've reached the final, end-all iteration of my thinking.
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Big C
My mother has been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Well, there it is. I've said it.
Her doctor wanted her to make sure her daughters get regular mammograms, now that there is an immediate family history.
Hm. I hadn't planned on ever having one. I've never had a single risk factor, and I don't think I see the point. I mean, what if they DO find something? What would I do with the information? Am I willing to even consider poisoning my body with radiation and chemotherapy?
Right now I'm at the point that I gotta die of something and I don't particularly care what, all roads lead to Jesus, some more quickly than others.
I'm a believer in providential healing, but know that the Lord chooses to heal sometimes and not others for reasons only He knows. So, if I get the Big C, and He chooses not to heal me, I go to heaven. If He chooses to heal me, I stay here and go to heaven later. In the end, does it really matter, REALLY, what I die of? If He wants me here, won't He keep me here? If He wants me home, won't He bring me home? Why borrow trouble going to look for reasons to bring in the big medical guns and shoot myself in the foot to death? I am beginning to kind of feel that way about all diagnostic testing anymore.
It's kind of related to how I feel about prenatal testing. They wanted to do an amnio on my oldest daughter before she was born. They swore up and down she was going to have spinal bifida. Oh, the agony of those days when I had to decide what to do. Turns out she was fine, and all that faithless angst was for nothing. All my kids got a high score on that test, until with my next-to-last baby I started declining tests. If the Lord wanted me to have a special needs kid, I'd have one, and if He didn't want me to, I wouldn't. I certainly wouldn't abort if my child was less than perfect. But, that is a fallacious argument, because in one case we are talking about (possibly) prolonging a life and in the other ending it.
Ecclesiastes 2:14 puts it this way: The wise man has eyes in his head,
while the fool walks in the darkness;
but I came to realize
that the same fate overtakes them both.
One woman suffers through cancer, the other suffers through its treatment, both die in the same plane crash a week later. It's all meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
(This post was summarized from an email conversation I had with my dearest friend, who was an immense help in crystallizing my thoughts. Thanks, Shandy.)
Well, there it is. I've said it.
Her doctor wanted her to make sure her daughters get regular mammograms, now that there is an immediate family history.
Hm. I hadn't planned on ever having one. I've never had a single risk factor, and I don't think I see the point. I mean, what if they DO find something? What would I do with the information? Am I willing to even consider poisoning my body with radiation and chemotherapy?
Right now I'm at the point that I gotta die of something and I don't particularly care what, all roads lead to Jesus, some more quickly than others.
I'm a believer in providential healing, but know that the Lord chooses to heal sometimes and not others for reasons only He knows. So, if I get the Big C, and He chooses not to heal me, I go to heaven. If He chooses to heal me, I stay here and go to heaven later. In the end, does it really matter, REALLY, what I die of? If He wants me here, won't He keep me here? If He wants me home, won't He bring me home? Why borrow trouble going to look for reasons to bring in the big medical guns and shoot myself in the foot to death? I am beginning to kind of feel that way about all diagnostic testing anymore.
It's kind of related to how I feel about prenatal testing. They wanted to do an amnio on my oldest daughter before she was born. They swore up and down she was going to have spinal bifida. Oh, the agony of those days when I had to decide what to do. Turns out she was fine, and all that faithless angst was for nothing. All my kids got a high score on that test, until with my next-to-last baby I started declining tests. If the Lord wanted me to have a special needs kid, I'd have one, and if He didn't want me to, I wouldn't. I certainly wouldn't abort if my child was less than perfect. But, that is a fallacious argument, because in one case we are talking about (possibly) prolonging a life and in the other ending it.
Ecclesiastes 2:14 puts it this way: The wise man has eyes in his head,
while the fool walks in the darkness;
but I came to realize
that the same fate overtakes them both.
One woman suffers through cancer, the other suffers through its treatment, both die in the same plane crash a week later. It's all meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
(This post was summarized from an email conversation I had with my dearest friend, who was an immense help in crystallizing my thoughts. Thanks, Shandy.)
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