|
|
Stories
Maralys' Story
As the interviewer of all these courageous women, I feel that my story may seem the least traumatic, and the most infused with good luck. Yet it wasn't all luck . . . which is why my tale has its place here. My story is about stubbornly taking charge of your own health, even in the face of professional opinions which, at the time, seemed so good anyone could be lured into false complacency.
I was not one of the "younger women" whose cancer so surprised them. I was in my early 70's . . . active, playing tennis and, except for arthritis, in pretty good health. For years I'd been at least half a health nut - making sure most of my food was nutritious (except for the occasional Sees candy), making time for almost-daily exercise . . . treadmill or otherwise.
It was during recovery from knee-replacement that I first had the sensation that "something's not right" in my left breast. It was all so subtle. Somebody gave me my bra to wear in the hospital bed, and that night I forgot to take it off. Next morning my left breast felt "different." And this is the key. "Different" is what alerted me to take action.
The second week I was home, I asked my husband to drive me on my first trip out of the house - for a mammogram.
The news from the mammogram was good. To the radiologist, everything looked normal. And here's where my German stubbornness came into play. For most of us, most of the time, "good" and "normal" are all we need to hear. At an earlier time, I might have relaxed and let myself off the hook. No more mammos for another year.
Niggling doubts still remained in the back of my mind. I guess I'm one of those people who has to be convinced of everything ten times over. I scheduled a visit with my internist, who did a physical exam and found nothing. But he did say, "If you still have doubts, you should probably go see Dr. West."
So, ever the doubting Thomas, I did. Dr. West did a fine needle aspiration and found nothing. But his sonogram did pick up a lump. "I guess we should remove it," I said, "whatever it is. Don't you think?" and he agreed. He didn't expect the lump to be cancer.
I especially didn't expect cancer. To comfort myself, I'd already recited all the reasons it was probably nothing. There was no breast cancer in my family. I'd had six children and nursed them all. Without being a fanatic, I'd taken pretty good care of my health. From all my past reading, I didn't fit "the pattern."
Later, I learned that everything I'd once believed now falls in the category of "myth." All those articles in popular magazines have been misleading, or just plain wrong. For most of us, our biggest risk factor is simply being a woman. Other factors merely up the ante.
Dr. West did the surgery, and sure enough, I did have cancer. The real luck appeared when the path report came back, calling the tumor "low motility," meaning slow-growing, unaggressive.
Compared to others, treatment was minimal. The lumpectomy was followed by a long course of radiation - which produced zero side effects. I was never tired, never in pain. The only nuisance was simply appearing so often to be radiated.
Now, five years later, a scary, scar-tissue lump lingers in that breast, and I constantly ask for professional reassurance that it's nothing. Like Lisa, I experience occasional, fleeting discomfort on that side - though never strong enough to be called "pain." It's just a niggling sensation, and easy to ignore.
By reading the above stories, I see a strong thread that binds us all together. We're all extremely busy women. We all lead lives that do not revolve around cancer. We were all surprised that we even had it - but once convinced, we all took steps to find the best treatment possible. We're all grateful that such treatment even exists. All of us want to make our experience count for something . . . that other women will read our stories and be braced to jump into action if something "doesn't seem right."
|
