After days of nail biting and positive thinking, I finally got the FANTASTIC news today that I won't have to undergo chemotherapy. I can't describe the feeling of elation and relief that coursed through my body when the oncologist called with the good news! I actually broke down in tears in front of a total stranger while I was in line at the Post Office. It was a true Kodak moment.
I'll try to explain this in layman's terms because it's really pretty interesting, and something that any woman diagnosed with breast cancer should be aware of. I've dumbed down what the oncologist said because he's so brilliant that whenyou speak to him you know that he's probably among the top 5 smartest people you'll ever meet. (He's got more info in his little pinky on the subject of treating breast cancer that I'll ever have in my entire brain.)
The old school of thought was that ALL women diagnosed with breast cancer were given chemotherapy as "insurance" -- liken this to living in Southern California and getting earthquake insurance -- you get insurance even though the likelihood of an earthquake destroying your property is quite low. This is because 20% of all breast cancer patients with no lymph node involvement (which is my circumstance) are susceptible to cancer recurring somewhere else in their body at a later date. But there was no way of knowing which 20% would be the unlucky ones. So . . . everyone was given chemo as a precaution, just as everyone in So Cal gets earthquake insurance because it's not possible to predict the specific location an earthquake will strike.
I'll try to explain this in layman's terms because it's really pretty interesting, and something that any woman diagnosed with breast cancer should be aware of. I've dumbed down what the oncologist said because he's so brilliant that whenyou speak to him you know that he's probably among the top 5 smartest people you'll ever meet. (He's got more info in his little pinky on the subject of treating breast cancer that I'll ever have in my entire brain.)
The old school of thought was that ALL women diagnosed with breast cancer were given chemotherapy as "insurance" -- liken this to living in Southern California and getting earthquake insurance -- you get insurance even though the likelihood of an earthquake destroying your property is quite low. This is because 20% of all breast cancer patients with no lymph node involvement (which is my circumstance) are susceptible to cancer recurring somewhere else in their body at a later date. But there was no way of knowing which 20% would be the unlucky ones. So . . . everyone was given chemo as a precaution, just as everyone in So Cal gets earthquake insurance because it's not possible to predict the specific location an earthquake will strike.
Thankfully, in the last 5 years technology has evolved to the point where it's possible to test cancerous tissue to determine if the DNA indicates a less destructive or, conversely, a wickedly bad type of pathology. It's called an "Oncotype Dx" test. My tumors were sent to a company called Genomics for Oncotype Dx testing. As mentioned above, the good news is that my tumors came back with very low biomarker scores, hence the diagnosis that I don't need chemotherapy as it's highly unlikely that the cancer will recur elsewhere in my body.
Once again I'm reflecting on how thorough my doctors are, how fortunate I am to have excellent health insurance (the tumor tests alone cost $8,000), the fact that my cancer was caught early, and how prayer and positive thinking are protecting me like some huge golden aura. When I picture myself I envision "Glinda the Good Witch" on the Wizard of Oz, as she floats down to Munchkinland surrounded by that golden orb of light.
I'll sleep well tonight knowing my journey will be a little bit lighter and I'm free to totally focus on healing my body without the worry and distraction of chemotherapy.
I only wish that ALL women with breast cancer could be so lucky. This disease strikes randomly and although I'm going to survive, not everyone with breast cancer is fortunate enough to be in my position. My prayers tonight will be focused on all women out there whose diagnosis is not as positive as mine.
I only wish that ALL women with breast cancer could be so lucky. This disease strikes randomly and although I'm going to survive, not everyone with breast cancer is fortunate enough to be in my position. My prayers tonight will be focused on all women out there whose diagnosis is not as positive as mine.
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