My Cancer, My Life
By Judith Webb
Early in 2001 I had pain in my right arm that wouldn’t go away. I was afraid that I had dislocated something or it might be the beginning of rotator-cuff problems.
My doctor noticed that I hadn’t had a mammogram in a few years, so I made an appointment. I had my mammogram, a biopsy was ordered and the pathologist made me an appointment with a local surgeon. It was a long walk from the pathologist’s office to the surgeon’s, but nothing had been mentioned about “cancer.” Actually, that word never entered my mind.
My husband and I met with the surgeon. He immediately said, “You have Stage I breast cancer.” Talk about shock, as if cancer was an everyday word for us. Without much explanation, the surgeon scheduled a lumpectomy for the following Tuesday. Three-fourths of my breast tissue would be removed. After radiation therapy, I would be fine.
Most of one breast removed and tissue “burned” by radiation? We sat there. The doctor went to see another patient. That was a Friday. After an emotional ride home and a long night, I knew that I knew nobody who had or had had breast cancer. I had never really read anything about it.
Saturday I woke up wondering if a lumpectomy was right for me. How can I fight something that I know nothing about? What is this cancer and what is it doing to me right now? Is it spreading? Am I dying?
How do you tell your children, mother, friends and family? I made an emotional visit to our son and his wife, who lived in Grand Island then. Our youngest son lived in New Jersey then. I told him over the telephone. Hindsight now tells me I should have made the trip there to tell him.
I started reading everything I could. I called to make an appointment with my primary physician only to learn she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She was not going to be in the office for quite a while.
I made an appointment at Central Plains Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery in Kearney. Before seeing the surgeon, I watched videos on breast cancer. I learned more in 30 minutes than I had so far. I met with Dr. Joel Atchison and his assistant, Dani. They took the time to explain what was going on and what my options were. I chose to have a double mastectomy with reconstructive surgery before leaving the hospital; I would have breasts in place when I awoke from surgery — not implants but actual tissue from my body. A ton of pressure was taken off my shoulders.
With my doctor unavailable, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I made an appointment with Dr. David Howe, an oncologist. He explained everything to us at great length. I had an oncologist and a plastic surgeon; my fears subsided.
Since this procedure would require both a surgeon (to do the mastectomy) and a plastic surgeon, Dani made an appointment with a surgeon Dr. Atchison had worked with.
When we met with the surgeon, he said that I was a prime candidate for a lumpectomy, and he would not perform a double mastectomy. What? This is my body. Cancer is invading me, and you’re refusing my request? OK, we could still do this — there are lots of plastic surgeons and surgeons in Nebraska.
After referrals from our primary physician’s office, we started seeing doctors from Kearney, Lincoln and Omaha. It was an emotional roller coaster ride. If we saw a surgeon willing to perform a double mastectomy, the plastic surgeon they normally work with would say no. Or if we got another plastic surgeon willing to perform, no surgeon would agree.
I wanted a say in what I want to go through. I heard answers from “You don’t need that serious of a procedure” to “You won’t like the results.” How can you decide this for me? Are you God? It was taking a toll.
After leaving what seemed like the last surgeon in Omaha, I grabbed a phone book and called a plastic surgeon in Omaha, Dr. Finkle. I said we were 10 minutes from his office and coming there today. Period.
Dr. Finkle met with us, and said he was very willing to do the procedure. He could come to Hastings to do the surgery. He gave me the name of a surgeon in Hastings. I called for an appointment but the doctor was on vacation. He called the following week and said (even without seeing me) no to the double mastectomy. I thought that this was too hard, forget it. Cancer was going to control me.
Before I could call Dr. Finkle, he called and said he couldn’t do the surgery as he was having carpal-tunnel surgery and it would be too long for me to wait. What else could happen?
That very same weekend my oncologist, Dr. Howe, died in a para-plane accident. Now, I’m back with no medical doctor, no oncologist, no plastic surgeon and no surgeon — two long months after my diagnosis.
My last resort: Start over. I called Dr. Atchison to plead with him to find me a surgeon if he was still willing to do the reconstructive surgery. He immediately took the matter into his hands. Surgery scheduled for Aug. 24.
I met with this new surgeon; he would certainly do the surgery and questioned why the others wouldn’t.
All of this was scary and emotionally draining for not only me, but also Jim, our family, employers and friends. Was this all taking too long? Many bad “vibes” were occurring.
On top of everything else, my employer was requiring all employees in the pension department to pass an 8-hour test that required 40+ hours of study time.
Huh? Now? My options? OK, they would work with me to reschedule my test time and give me a different “due date” to take the test.
I was so ready by Aug. 24 to have this surgery and knew that everything was going to be OK. I did great, far exceeding medical expectations. I was released three days early. I had no cancer in the lymph nodes and the reconstructive surgery went well. I felt great, was relaxed and knew I was going to look great. And, I was going to live!
I went home to recuperate and get ready to tackle chemotherapy. Unlike the cancer, there was nothing I could learn about chemo and that scared me. Two weeks after the first dose of chemo, I put my hands through my hair and had two handfuls. I immediately went to a hair salon and got a GI Jane haircut. That salon also had a wig pretty much like my hair. Nobody had to see me with a “Charlie Brown” head.
Studying for the required test was hard. I couldn’t remember anything. The company made another exception and gave me until March 2002 to pass the test … three months after my last chemo round. Only this past year did I know this forgetfulness had a name: chemo brain.
If I had known that it really was a medical condition, I would have brought legal action against that employer when they terminated me after I failed the test. I was not strong enough to fight them. I was bald, emotionally and physically weak, 50 years old, and unemployed.
What a year. I was a statistic; I had to deal with the loss of my breasts, my hair, my job. I watched in disbelief at 9/11 with my son living 30 miles from the devastation. There was financial ruin, too, including having to file bankruptcy. What did I ever do to deserve this? I asked myself that many times.
Two years after my ordeal, we were blessed with our grandson, Jamie. I have now surpassed the 5-year survivor time, a milestone for breast cancer, and did we party!
At the Survivor’s Supper for Relay for Life in June, Dr. James Omel said that the only option for a woman who has been diagnosed with breast cancer is to have a double mastectomy. Period. I wanted to stand up and cheer. If I knew how to proceed and had the energy and the resources, I would start a crusade to let every woman who has been diagnosed with breast cancer to educate yourself before letting a surgeon decide your fate. Ask questions. This is your life. In my short recovery time, I have met many women who did as the doctor decided.
It’s easier to have a lumpectomy. Unfortunately seven of these women are now dead. Three more have had cancer come back in the “other” breast, including my primary physician.
I was told that cancer would eventually been in the “healthy” breast. Was a double mastectomy a drastic move? You bet, but I never wanted to hear the “C” word again or go through another biopsy.
You have to educate yourself because how can you “win” if you don’t know what you’re fighting. Attitude is everything in recovery. Nobody cares more about you than you.
Do I think about cancer re-occurring? Even though I’ve been told I’m 98.99 percent cancer-free? Yes I think about it — not everyday like I did in the first two years, but it’s always in the back of my mind. But I can’t (and won’t) let it control me. I’m probably the least competitive person you’ll ever meet, but I know I won this battle.
UPDATE MARCH 1, 2009:
Judith has survived breast cancer and encourages others to take control of their own recovery.
“I’m doing great since my story has appeared. I know of several women who have gone in to get mammograms, and that’s a good thing. Life goes on. You say an extra prayer every day.”
Tags: Judy Webb
