In my last update, I shared the good news about our first little granddaughter being born. Emma Eileen is two weeks old now and is doing great. She spent the first week in the hospital while they helped her with some breathing issues, regulated her temperature, and treated her for some jaundice. But she is back home now with her Mom Erin, big brothers, Asher and Gabe (who just adore her), her maternal grandparents (Papa John and Nanny Lu), Aunts Misty and Michelle and lots of cousins and other relatives who love her very much. Unfortunately, Jared is still stationed overseas so he has had to settle for pictures of his new little daughter. Now we are anxiously awaiting the birth of our next grandchild, as Josh and Lisa’s baby is due on June 14th!
Also included in my last update was information about my lumpectomy surgery scheduled for May 24th. As you can see from the following e-mail I sent to family and friends, everything went fairly well:
Hi All -
Just a note to let everyone know that the lumpectomy procedure went well yesterday and I am doing fine. I had one short spell (I think they called it a "vagal response”) where I became lightheaded and felt hot and my heart rate dropped to 38. On the way home, I was nauseated and vomiting, but the doctor prescribed some medication and I was able to eat a regular meal later in the day. I slept well last night and feel only minimal pain this morning. I'll see the doctor again next Friday to find out when we will start radiation. It usually starts four weeks after surgery.
Thanks to everyone for all the prayers! God's grace definitely saw me through.
Love to all, Eileen
Well . . . that was then . . . .
Two days later I contacted the surgeon’s office to see if the pathology report had arrived yet. A couple of hours later Dr. Berntsen called to deliver some “good news and bad news.” The good news was that they did not find any invasive cancer cells – they only discovered additional DCIS cells, which was what they had expected. The bad news was that they did not get a large enough margin around the involved area. All the margins were clear, but in two out of the three they only got 1 ml. instead of the standard 2 ml. Dr. Berntsen explained that the remedy for this problem was to “simply” go back in to get the additional tissue (also known as a re-excision). The last thing I wanted to do was to go back under the knife again! I asked her if there were any other options available and she replied that the 2 ml. margin was the “gold standard.” However, she did agree to consider the possibility of letting the radiation pick up any cells that might have been left behind. Of course, that was music to my ears.
But that was then . . . .
The very next day I received a call from one of my sisters. After we talked about my surgery, she said, “Do you remember how I told you that I was with you, sister? Well, I meant that in more ways than one.” Then she asked, “Are you sitting down?” She told me that three weeks earlier she was diagnosed with another form of breast cancer known as Invasive Lobular Carcinoma (ILC). It is a form of cancer that is difficult to identify on a mammogram. Consequently, it went undetected for at least a year, resulting in the development of one very large tumor and another smaller one. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It seemed surreal to learn that this dreaded disease had attacked yet another member of our family. But my sister is a woman of faith, and she is drawing strength and comfort from the knowledge that God is sovereign and He loves her.
“'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. '” ~ Jeremiah 29:11 (NASB)
Although I realized that my sister’s history was now my history and that her diagnosis had implications for me as well, it still didn’t change my mind about not doing the re-excision.
But that was then . . . .
That evening I received another telephone call; this time it was from our son, Josh, who is a 3rd year medical student at KU. Josh was inquiring about what decision I had made regarding the second surgery. I told him that I didn’t want to do it because I was looking at a three inch gash in my breast and the thought of having it cut back open again did not appeal to me in the least. I also explained that I felt comfortable with the 1 mm margin because the margin was clear and it was 50% of what they wanted to get. In my way of thinking, since the tissue closest to the involved area was clear, then chances are the tissue on the other side of it would be clear, too. Besides, DCIS is considered Stage 0 or pre-cancer. At that point in the conversation, Josh proceeded to give me an old fashioned “butt-chewing.” (The kind I used to give him when he left his wet towels on the floor.) He said, “You’re lying to yourself, Mom. You’re lying to yourself.” He said he just emailed me some information which showed that statistically the number one risk factor for recurrence was the failure to achieve a full 2 mm. margin, and anything less than that was “sub-par care.” By then I was crying because I just did not want to have to undergo another surgery. But Josh was unaffected. “Your tears mean nothing to me right now, Mom. I’ll hold your hand and cry with you later if you want me to, and there are medications they can give you to help ease your anxiety. But to allow those fears to keep you from making the right decision is just plain foolish!” He said that statistically 1 in 7 women will get breast cancer, but we have 4 women out of 7 who have developed it in our family. “That’s huge, Mom,” Josh exclaimed. “This is serious. It’s nothing to mess around with!” Finally I agreed to “think about it.” Josh replied, “Then I’ve failed. I’ve failed.” He simply would not take no for an answer. By the end of the conversation I was convinced. “I’ll probably do it,” I said through my tears.
Josh’s voice immediately softened. “Okay, Mom. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Josh.”
To be continued . . . .
Josh & me on his 25th birthday, April 15, 2006
