My story starts in late 2009, when I found a hard, misshapen lump in my left breast that I dismissed as a cyst and then forgot about until I went for my annual exam in February 2010. That was when I learned that the lump was cancer.
I was mildly surprised by this news because there was no history of breast cancer in my family that I knew of. Also, I was 45 years old and had had several clear mammograms. I don't think I had one in 2009, though. Would things be different now if the cancer was caught sooner? I doubt it.
I opted for a mastectomy with reconstruction, the results of which were disappointing. Years later, tired of the discomfort caused by the implant basically sitting on my left rib cage (I'm thin.) and dismayed by my freakish appearance, I had the implant removed. I'd resolved that whatever happened, I was not leaving this life with a sac of silicone in my chest. Now I'm mostly flat on the left side. I prefer it to the implant.
Following the mastectomy, I refused Tamoxifen, even though the oncologist I consulted told me that taking it for five years was a "no-brainer" for a woman in my situation. I'd researched the drug and discovered that early-onset menopause was certain, and I wasn't ready for that. I also read about other possible side effects--uterine cancer and fatty liver disease worried me the most. When I raised my concerns with the oncologist and explained that there is a history of fatty liver disease in my family, he said, in an offhand way, that my liver enzymes would be monitored, and if it came to it, I could have a liver transplant. Uterine cancer, he said, could be addressed with a "simple" hysterectomy.
I recall that the building where the oncologist had his office, beyond Portland's city limits, was enormous, like an airport terminal. The first thought I had when I walked in was, "Cancer is big business." I noticed the planters held artificial greenery bearing visible coatings of dust. It seemed to me that nothing lived in that place and that the oncologist was some sort of automaton. I never went back.
I was mildly surprised by this news because there was no history of breast cancer in my family that I knew of. Also, I was 45 years old and had had several clear mammograms. I don't think I had one in 2009, though. Would things be different now if the cancer was caught sooner? I doubt it.
I opted for a mastectomy with reconstruction, the results of which were disappointing. Years later, tired of the discomfort caused by the implant basically sitting on my left rib cage (I'm thin.) and dismayed by my freakish appearance, I had the implant removed. I'd resolved that whatever happened, I was not leaving this life with a sac of silicone in my chest. Now I'm mostly flat on the left side. I prefer it to the implant.
Following the mastectomy, I refused Tamoxifen, even though the oncologist I consulted told me that taking it for five years was a "no-brainer" for a woman in my situation. I'd researched the drug and discovered that early-onset menopause was certain, and I wasn't ready for that. I also read about other possible side effects--uterine cancer and fatty liver disease worried me the most. When I raised my concerns with the oncologist and explained that there is a history of fatty liver disease in my family, he said, in an offhand way, that my liver enzymes would be monitored, and if it came to it, I could have a liver transplant. Uterine cancer, he said, could be addressed with a "simple" hysterectomy.
I recall that the building where the oncologist had his office, beyond Portland's city limits, was enormous, like an airport terminal. The first thought I had when I walked in was, "Cancer is big business." I noticed the planters held artificial greenery bearing visible coatings of dust. It seemed to me that nothing lived in that place and that the oncologist was some sort of automaton. I never went back.