The New Journey Begins

Life has a way of knocking the wind out of you once in a while. When I celebrated New Year’s with my sons Andy and Will in Thailand on our “trip of a lifetime” several weeks ago, little did I know I was heading for a truly life-changing journey in less than 30 days. As I do every year, I had my routine annual mammogram in January and considered it just another nuisance to squeeze into my busy schedule. I joked with Pat, the mammogram tech, that I was wearing my lucky Buddha necklace Will had bought for me during our trip to Asia. After the appointment I raced out to my car and went home to start my usual hectic workday.

Several days later, the mammogram facility’s phone number flashed on my Blackberry’s Caller ID. I thought “That’s weird, they usually send a letter in the mail telling me my results are normal.” I answered the phone, little knowing how that call would change my life.

“Hi Ms. Miller, the radiologist who read your mammogram results wants a retake. No worries, but we’d like you to come in as soon as possible.” GULP . . . a little butterfly started fluttering around in my stomach. I made an appointment for the following week and immediately called my OB-Gyn, who reassured me that this was quite common, and 99% of the time it’s nothing to worry about. So much for statistics.

I returned to the St. Joseph Breast Care Center on February 12, annoyed that my Friday afternoon was being interrupted by this silly procedure. I undressed, put on a gown, and strolled into the room where Pat was waiting for me. “Hop on over and let’s make this thing go away so you can get on with your weekend,” she said. After the procedure I stood around tapping my feet, thinking of everything I had to do that day, and checked the appointment off my ""To Do list on my trusty Blackberry. Several minutes later Pat popped her head in and said the radiologist wanted to do a quick ultrasound.

That’s when the REAL jitters started. I was led to a room with an imposing amount of equipment, told to lie on the table and wait for the ultrasound technician. “I’m not nervous,” I said unconvincingly to myself. “They probably just saw something innocuous and I’ll be out of here in 30 minutes after they confirm nothing is amiss.” A technician entered the room and performed the procedure, which lasted about 15 minutes. More waiting . . . this time no feet tapping, as I was lying prone on the examining table. A bit later Dr. Schroeder, the radiologist, entered the room and explained that he saw a mass he suspected was cancerous, and conducted a second ultrasound. Immediately I began the firehose of questions: “Could it be scar tissue, calcification, fibrous tissue, or something else benign?” He shook his head from side to side. “Not likely. The ulstrasound has also revealed a second mass that wasn’t picked up on the mammogram. I’d suggest a biopsy is in order.”

Stunned silence is the only way I can describe my reaction. (For those of you who know me well, not much makes me speechless.) Thoughts raced through my head: “This can’t be happening to me. There’s no cancer of any kind in my family, I’m healthy, I don’t smoke, and I’m sure this is all a mistake.” The radiologist went on to say that 85% of breast cancers are diagnosed in women exactly like me, the poster child with no history of cancer in their family and no risk factors. They numbed the skin, completed the biopsy, conducted yet another mammogram, bandaged me up, and sent me on my way. The weekend went by in a blur, with visitors from Aspen and a few of my close female friends at my side. Monday morning the radiologist called and said the biopsy results indicated two aggressive tumors and told me the next step was an MRI to see if there were any other masses in my breasts and/or lymph nodes.

On Tuesday morning my friend Patty accompanied me to the MRI and the results came back that afternoon: Three separate masses in the left breast, nothing in the right breast, and no sign of anything in the lymph nodes. My friends have rallied around me like a mother bear with her cub.

I’ve been astounded by a few things:

• Several friends are accompanying me on all of my medical appointments

• Others have offered to take care of my dogs

• Numerous people have offered to come to Denver if I need ANYTHING

• People have come out of the woodwork to share their stories of breast cancer survival, which is perhaps the most uplifting of all

• Offers of food are flying in – of course I am accepting all!

• At least 5 of my friends who’ve been putting off their own mammograms have scheduled them

• One friend has offered to be my “Web boy toy” and redesign my blog. (Did it take cancer for me to have a boy toy?)

This is the beginning of a new journey and I want to acknowledge the overwhelming love and support from everyone, every single minute of every day. I am comforted by you when I wake up in a panic in the middle of the night. My hope is this blog will spur women on to get their mammograms annually, especially for those of you who have been putting it off, for whatever reason. I’m documenting this process with my Flip Video . . . here is posting #1.

Next step: Meeting with the surgeon and oncologist, scheduled for this upcoming week.