The last few weeks have been dominated by that nasty "c" word that you can't help but hate...cancer. I got a phone call from my Mum a few weeks ago, and I could tell by the tremor in her voice that something wasn't quite right. With family tragedy still very fresh in my mind and heart, mum's voice starts my imagination racing, conjuring up all manner of tragic scenarios all in the space of a split-second, and each one as sad as the next...but nothing in comparison to the reality. Mum had breast cancer.
A bi-annual mammogram had picked up a small lump in her left breast and she'd just received confirmation that it was cancerous. In order not to worry anyone unnecessarily she kept the mammogram result quiet until she got the test results back. From all my mum had been told, the prognosis was potentially not that bad. The lump was very small, 9 mm, which is classed as early breast cancer, and she was reassured by all doctors and nurses that of all the cancers that she could have, this was the best...?! The shock of it all was still a little too much and she was understandably very scared and very upset, as were the rest of us. I immediately went into information gathering mode and scoured the internet for as much info as I could find. Statistics were an obvious place to start, although interpreting them is always very subjective. The one that kept ringing in my mind was that for early breast cancer cases, the 5 year survival rate was over 85%...at first it gave me the reassurance that this will be treatable, that, as the doctors said it isn't all that bad. Then my mind performed the inevitable "glass is half empty" reversal...1 in 10 women will not live beyond five years! I chose to focus on the side of optimism...it's what my Mum would need me to feel.
A very good booklet on early breast cancer, with information on it's treatment and answers to many common questions was given to her by the doctors, but Mum seemed too overwhelmed by all of this info right now. Different potential treatments had been briefly discussed with her doctor, but in her mind it seemed that the most drastic of these treatments, a full mastectomy, was what she saw as her only real option! I tried to reassure her that all that I had been reading suggested the opposite. In most early cases, like my mum's, a "lumpectomy" along with radio therapy was the recommended treatment. I left her with this information and suggested she read through the material and come up with a list of questions for her doctor before her next visit.
After her next visit, I got a call and she sounded a lot more positive. The doctor explained the lumpectomy procedure and she had decided that this was the best option and everything was booked in for the following Wednesday!! Only a small amount of breast tissue surrounding the lump, along with some lymph nodes would need to be removed. Post surgery they would then need to run some tests on everything to determine whether the cancer cells had spread through the lymphatic system. Obviously, we were hoping that they hadn't, and that the cancer was localised to the lump in her breast. I was a nervous wreck on the Wednesday of the operation, calling my Dad regularly to get any updates. My last call was answered by a very groggy sounding Mum. The operation went to plan, but no test results would be available for a week. Michelle and I, and the rest of the family visited her that night in hospital and she seemed in really good spirits. Complaining and whinging about the nurses and the other patients just as I'd expect my mum to :)
The week long wait was hard on everyone, but in general, I think we were all very positive. Mum was a little bit tired, bruised and itchy from the operation, but had recovered really well and the inevitable nervousness wasn't showing. Come Friday, though and my nerves were a bit of a mess. Critical problems at work paled into insignificance and I found it hard to concentrate on work whenever my mind wandered to my mum's fate. Keeping myself busy was the best I could do. An afternoon phone call with caller id showing my Mum's number and my heart skipped a beat. Once again, Mum's voice gave it all away...it was good news this time. All the tests came back clear! What a huge relief! My mum crying on the other end of the phone, and I couldn't help but join her.
Of course, she still has to get radio therapy and will possibly be on some medication, but her spirit is now strong enough to be able to handle the extra treatment. I've already lined up her birthday present...something she has always wanted to do is to jump out of an aeroplane! Luckily she doesn't have access to the internet, hopefully everyone reading this can keep quiet.