Journal Entries from the past few months...

NOTE:  Many people have asked me how I discovered I had breast cancer. I found out from having a mammogram, but I would have found it sooner if I had taken the time to do monthly breast self-exams. I was also 10 months late for my mammogram. My mission now is to educate and convince women to do their monthly self-exams, to schedule all of their necessary tests on a regular basis especially their mammograms, and to not get too busy with life that they forget to take care of themselves. Because I feel so passionate about spreading this important message, I decided to share my own journal...from the moment I had my mammogram, to everything that followed.  Hopefully, my experience will convince more people to schedule their tests.  Hopefully, my experience will help to save some lives.

 

November 28, 2006 – Tuesday

Today I had a mammogram. A little overdue – it’s been 22 months instead of 12 since my last one. I kept putting it off…always busy, I guess.

 

December 01, 2006 – Friday

They called today while I was still in bed, to reschedule me because they found something on my left breast. I heard what the woman on the phone was saying but I was confused. I was certain this could not be happening to me. I felt my breast and there wasn’t anything there, certainly not the pea-shape lump that I always figured it would feel like. But I was always more concerned with ovarian cancer. After all, that’s what my mom died from. I just had a pap test two weeks earlier and my doctor examined my breasts while I was lying on the table and she didn’t find anything either. I sat up in bed. It didn’t take more than a second to feel the hardness above my nipple as soon as I sat up straight. It seemed pretty large. If I had taken the time to do my monthly breast self-exams, I would’ve found this. I would have found it sooner. Why didn't I take a few minutes every month to do this?  I was always too busy, but now, none of that seemed important after all.

 

December 04, 2006 – Monday

I went back for the digital mammogram. OMG! I thought the regular mammogram hurt! They literally squished my left breast until I wanted to scream and they held it there so much longer. I had to shake my breast out when she released the machine, just to work through the pain. Little did I know at the time, there was much more pain to come. Next, I had a sonogram. That of course, didn’t hurt. Surprisingly, I wasn’t freaking out yet. They told me I would need a biopsy. I kept everything in because I didn’t want to explode. If I broke down, it would seem too real. If I broke down and cried, I would be giving in. And after all, this could be nothing.

 

December 07, 2006 – Thursday

I went for a consultation with the surgeon, Dr. C. I went alone because I thought he was just going to talk. I was surprised that he took care of everything that very day. They were all so nice there. The nurse hugged me! The doctor talked so nice to me. First he did a sonogram but he said it seemed to disappear on the sonogram so he wanted to do another mammogram. They took me into another room where there was this table with a hole in the upper half. I laid on my stomach and let my left breast fall down through the hole. The nurse placed my breast in the clear plastic clamp. It didn’t hurt too much in this position. They raised the table in the air and we all made jokes about them working on me like a car. They walked underneath me, my breast still hanging through the hole, and yet I didn’t feel odd. They were all so nice. Dr. C. decided to do the needle biopsy while I was still on the table. It hurt, but I was glad it was done already so I wouldn’t have to wait any longer for the results. The nurse bound me up in two ace bandages. With the Christmas holiday almost here, the nurse made a joke that my husband could unwrap me in the morning. It was so tight that I couldn’t wait till morning. Dr. C. said he would have the results on Monday and would call me in the afternoon.

 

It was such a long weekend, but I worked on my new office and scrapbook room and tried to keep busy. I didn’t want to think about the possibilities. I didn’t want to be scared. I didn’t want to cry.

 

December 11, 2006 – Monday

Dr. C. called me at 1:00 with the results. I’ll always remember his tone and his words. “It’s bad news. It’s breast cancer.” I kind of expected to hear that. I don’t know why, but I didn’t really react. He wanted me to come in with Dale ASAP. I went upstairs and Dale was waiting for me to tell him what the doctor said. I sort of laughed – a nervous laugh, I guess. After all, how do you tell your life partner that cancer has now invaded your body and there might be a chance…NO, I wouldn’t even think it, much less say it or write it.   

 

Dr. C. showed us the mammogram pictures. Of course I thought the mass looked huge, but he said it wasn’t that large. He was more concerned with the uneven edges that feathered out. That indicated that it was spreading. He gave me the option of choosing a simple mastectomy or a partial mastectomy which is the medical term for a lumpectomy. He said the cure rate was the same so I opted for the partial. I wasn’t ready to give up my breast yet. He talked with us both about the treatments available after that if I needed them, but it would all be based on whether the cancer had spread into my lymph nodes. 

 

I didn’t really hear anything else he said. Only one word loomed inside my brain. Cancer! Cancer! Cancer! It repeated itself over and over as if to brazenly announce its existence. It wasn’t enough that it had taken my mother. Now it had come for me, in another form. It had snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking and had taken its formidable place inside my body. Now it wanted to gloat that I had let my guard down long enough for it to sneak through. Me, who had been so careful to have all the right tests after I watched my mother die from this wretched disease! I was busy and worked too many hours. I didn’t eat right. I gained too much weight. I was out of shape. All the things I wanted to take care of when I turned the magic 50, now seemed unattainable.  

 

November 13^th was my fiftieth birthday. Before this day, it seemed like it was just a couple of weeks ago when I was making plans with my girlfriends to have a fun birthday get-together. Now, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

 

2007 was going to be the year for me to see the world! I was going to go on the diet that finally worked and get in shape. I was going to get our business so organized that it could practically run itself, so I could do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. But something happened on the way to making those plans….

 

I don’t remember the exact day I told the kids but I made sure I talked with each of them separately. None of them had a lot to say, or showed a lot of emotion. All six of them are so totally different, but in this situation they reacted the same. I think they were trying to protect me by hiding their tears and fears. I hope I calmed their fears by showing how positive I was about this, and convinced them that I would fight hard to live. I wanted to be a good example for my children.   

 

 December 14, 2006 – Thursday

I went back to Dr. C’s office for a pre-op visit. The surgery was scheduled for December 19^th. He did a quick exam and instructed me on everything he wanted me to do that day. While I was still draped in paper, he hugged me. I had never been hugged by a doctor before! I trusted this man with my life. I had never met a more caring doctor before this.

 

From there, we went over to the hospital for an EKG, bloodwork and chest Xrays. It was all pretty painless and Dale patiently sat in the waiting room. I remember walking quickly from one department to another. I was feeling so good that day. It had been months since I could walk so fast without being in pain. I had plantar fachiatis and heel spurs and every night, it would be a major chore to get up and go to the bathroom. I actually used Dale’s old crutches from when he had his leg cast. Just last month, I went to a podiatrist and she gave me a cortisone shot, and the name of the sneakers she wanted me to wear. It was a miracle! I was walking without pain. I was able to get up in the middle of the night without hopping. I was so excited to be able to walk again without pain. So here I was, rushing around the hospital, feeling pretty chipper and no one but Dale and I really knew or cared why I was getting these tests. They didn’t know that cancer had invaded my body. It was gloating on the inside, but hadn’t peeked outside my body yet.

 

The woman who took my blood came out into the hall. I was standing at the desk waiting to get my chest Xray. She asked me if my name was Bohrer, and I smiled and said yes….and laughed. I wondered what that was about. She just took my blood and she forgot my name? Did she get it mixed up with someone else’s blood? Did hospitals make mistakes like that? Maybe this was all a big mistake! After all, I felt too good to be sick.

 

When I rejoined Dale in the waiting room, the woman from the lab came up to me again and apologized. She didn’t want me to think that she labeled my blood wrong. She said she just had to double-check because when she looked down at the birthdate on the label, it said 1956 and she couldn’t believe I was 50 years old! Wow! That made me feel good! Here I was feeling healthy. My feet didn’t hurt anymore and I didn’t look anywhere near my age. What the hell was I doing here?

 

When we were driving home, I realized another day had passed and we wouldn’t be able to put up the Christmas tree. It just didn’t feel like Christmas and I wanted the tree up. I thought it would put me in the mood. But with all the running back and forth to the doctor and the hospital, we ran out of time to get the stuff out of the shed…and we were so drained. It didn’t feel like Christmas at all.

 

We came home that night and Danny ran downstairs and told me to close my eyes. I walked up the stairs from the basement and was shocked to see my tree fully lit and decorated, my Christmas village, Santa Clauses and nativity were all set up and the regular knick knacks wrapped and put away. Jeff and Danny had planned the whole thing to surprise me. Danny said Jeff called it “Operation put the tree up” at first but that took too long to say, so they changed it to “Operation Billy.” Not sure what that stands for and knowing Jeffrey, I’m sure it doesn’t stand for anything. He just likes to put a silly spin on things. This was my best Christmas present ever. They knew how much I needed my tree and they took care of it for me. They are such wonderful sons. I am so blessed. 

 

I spent another weekend organizing and cleaning my office. My sister reminded me that I always did this before I went into labor. It was my way of making sure everything was in order before going to the hospital.

 

I posted on the message board that I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. The outpouring of love and affection was overwhelming. I have a lot of people praying for me. I am blessed.

 

December 19, 2006 – Tuesday

We arrived at Dr. C’s office at 6:30 in the morning. He put a wire in my breast and then bandaged it up. The wire was for the Sentinel Node Biopsy that would help him to know which two lymph nodes to first remove. They would test them while I was still asleep. If cancer was in them, he would remove more lymph nodes and I would have to stay overnight at the hospital. If the cancer had not spread, I could go home later that day.

 

Dale and I drove over to the hospital and checked in. By 7:30 am, they were taking me to Nuclear Medicine where they put in two very painful needles and shot me with dye. She then massaged my breast with some sort of vibrator which helped the dye to move freely. Then I laid still under a large Xray machine for half an hour while they took pictures of where the dye was going. She wheeled me to meet Dr. C. in the Operating Room. It was like ice in there but they covered me with heated blankets.

 

Dr. C pushed the hair out of my eyes and his nurse Carol held my hand while everyone prepped my body around me. It was so impersonal, yet Dr. C and Carol made it very personal and I was calm…until the anesthesiologist plopped the oxygen mask over my face!  She was a foreign doctor who didn’t seem to fit in this crowd of caring people. I was suffocating and started to pray “please knock me out fast!”

 

Dr. C lifted the mask off of my face and asked me if I were claustrophobic. When I said yes, he stood there and held the mask away from my face but close enough for me to still breathe in the clean cool air. It probably was only a minute but it seemed like longer. He didn’t hand it to a nurse to hold. I was so impressed with his bedside manner. God had blessed me with a surgeon with a heart. A good heart. I was blessed again.

 

Waking up in the Recovery Room. I stayed in there for hours. Other patients came and left but poor Dale had to wait for me for so long. The nurse kept asking me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten and I said seven. My pain was at a seven for too long, so they gave me a strong shot of pain medicine. It was so strong that I kept falling asleep and forgot to breathe. Kay, the dear sweet nurse who sat with me for hours in that recovery room kept waking me up to remind me to breathe. Once, I jokingly told her she was getting annoying. I heard them talking about staying overnight. I asked her if I would be staying and she said yes. That’s when I knew the cancer had spread.

 

Kay let Dale come in to see me for a minute. They felt badly for him sitting out there so patiently. I vaguely remember seeing him across the room and walking towards me. I’m sure he was scared. I’m sure he loved me. I was sure I had never loved anyone as much as I loved that man. I was truly blessed.

 

When I breathed OK for a full hour, they moved me to a room. Dale stayed with me until 7:00 but then we thought it best for him to go home and get some rest and be with the boys. I would be sleeping anyway. I knew he was exhausted. Neither one of us slept much the night before.

 

December 20, 2006 – Wednesday

I called my oldest daughter Kerry first thing being it was her birthday. I was afraid to tell her too much with her baby due so soon. She seemed OK. I called my other daughter Heather too and talked for a little bit, assuring them both that I was OK. They both live so far away, and worried more than the rest.

 

Dr. C. stopped in at 7:00 am. He took my hand and told me to come into his office on Thursday late afternoon because he should have the pathology reports by then. He said he couldn’t tell me what I wanted to hear. He knew I wanted him to tell me that yes, I would make it but until he looked at those reports, he wouldn’t know. He did say that he knew I would have a battle ahead of me. I was OK with that. I was up for the fight. Just don’t give up on me!

 

Dale came and picked me up and I was happy to get home and relax on the couch, and to see Jeff and Danny again. Jeffrey sat next to me a few times that day. He laughed at me because I acted so silly on the drugs, but I knew he was worried. I knew he loved his mom.

 

Dale waited on me hand and foot. He didn’t show any sign of worry. He made me stronger knowing he had full confidence in me that I could win this fight and we would move past this as soon as we could.

 

From the light of the Christmas tree, Dale and I sat alone and spent that night silently comforting each other.

 

December 21, 2006 – Thursday

It was a rough night, trying to sleep on my side, especially with that stupid drain bag hanging down and getting in the way. I cried a little bit today, when I was alone and when I allowed myself to think that Dr. C might say it was Stage Four. I remember telling Dale that I was scared of hearing that because Four usually means terminal. Even though I’ve heard of people surviving, it’s still something I didn’t want to hear. Dale said he didn’t realize that was what we were waiting to hear. Last time he spoke with the doctor, he said I was stage Two. He didn’t realize that might change today.

 

When we went to see Dr. C, I was thrilled to find out that he was going to remove the drain. He told us he had to go back in and remove more tissue to make sure there was a clear margin left where the tumor was. He also told us that he would like to implant a medi-port in my chest at the same time. This would be where all chemo treatments would be given and they wouldn’t have to poke away at the veins in my arm. I wanted to ask him about the stage but I couldn’t mouth the words. I wanted to know but I was so scared of the answer. He wasn’t volunteering the info so finally Dale asked him. He said it was stage three. Not the best news but I started to cry with happiness that it was not stage four.

 

December 23, 2006 – Saturday

Today was Dale’s birthday. I hadn’t had time to get him anything, so I promised him I would get better and that would be my present to him for his birthday and Christmas. This was the one time we promised each other that we wouldn’t spend any money on each other for Christmas, and I actually listened. This gift would mean so much more to both of us, than anything I could ever buy. Material things had suddenly lost their meaning. I love this man so much and he treats me like an angel. He doesn’t deserve this and all the pressure and extra work, but he waits on me and cooks for me, makes the bed, does the laundry, and never complains. I wish I could do more for him. He means the world to me. He is my soulmate, my everything.

  

December 24, 2006 – Sunday

The calendar says it is Christmas Eve but it doesn’t feel like it. I’m so obsessed with cancer and finding out as much as I can in books and on the internet. The holidays are so secondary this year. Poor Danny wanted to make cookies so badly but I just didn’t feel up to it. I hated to change things for him. He always loved baking cookies with me every year, so Dale bought the Pillsbury dough cookies and I sat with Danny and watched as he spooned them out all by himself. They weren’t homemade. They weren’t Danny’s favorite almond cookies, but we compromised. He made the crisscross design on the peanut butter cookies so they looked the same, and he was happy.

 

Kimmie came down from New Jersey today. I thought she would want to spend it with Erik – this being their first one together, but she spent it with us instead. I was happy to have her here. I was happy to know she thought it was important enough to come home.

 

December 25, 2006 – Monday

The biggest Christmas present of all – the kids let us sleep until noon! Unheard of on Christmas morning, but they are such caring, wonderful children that they cared more for us than opening their presents. They even laid a towel on the floor in front of our door, so Danny’s bedroom light wouldn’t wake us. I am so blessed with these children who are becoming wonderful young adults.

 

I will always remember this Christmas as the one where my boys put up the tree for me, and they let us sleep till noon, because this was the year that they put their whole heart into their gifts.

 

December 26, 2006 – Tuesday

I called Heather today for her birthday. She’s 24. I can hardly believe where all the years have gone. Soon I will have five grandchildren! Kimmie went home today. She hugged us both goodbye. It feels so good to feel her love.

 

December 28, 2006 – Thursday

Today was the day of my second surgery. We went straight to the hospital this time at 9:00 am. Surgery was at 11:00am. When Dr. C came in to see me around 10:30 am, I told him we had to stop meeting this way. He said, “Yes, let’s make this the last.”

 

I had a nice anesthesiologist this time. I told him not to scare me with the mask on my face and he promised he wouldn’t. He held a tube in front of my nose instead. I told Dr. C I liked this guy. My arms were stretched out on each side of me in the operating room…Dr. C on one side of me, and his nurse Carol on the other side. They both held my hands and I felt calm. I started feeling the drugs and told them I would see them in a few. The next thing I knew I was waking up to see dear sweet Kay again – the same nurse who sat with me for hours just nine days earlier after my first surgery. This time I made sure I didn’t say my pain level was a seven. It was same day surgery and I wanted to go home.

 

I was so drugged up. We were home by 5:00pm and Jeff sat with me on the couch. He laughed at me again – his mom, the druggie.

 

Late that night, when I went to lay down in bed, the port hurt up into my shoulder. I laid down all the way and felt something pop into my chest…and I started coughing. I was so afraid that something was wrong. Dr. C had said there was a slight chance that the port could cause a collapsed lung. Dale brought me out to the living room and said he would sleep with me out on the couch and promised to watch me until I fell asleep. I was scared to sleep, but finally I did fall asleep and Dale stayed with me the whole night.

 

December 29, 2006 – Friday

By morning, I called Dr. C and explained what happened. He said he wanted to see me so we went in and he listened to my chest. He said my breathing was great but he sent me to the hospital for a chest Xray just to be safe. He said there was congestion on my lungs but everything else seemed OK.  I couldn’t stop from hating this port. There was a foreign object inside of my body! I hated it! All I could do was take more Percocet and sleep the day away.

 

Dale went to bed and I told him I would come back later, but around five in the morning when I felt tired, I tried to lean back in the recliner and I felt a thin line of pain from my windpipe to the bottom of my heart. I was sure it was some sort of metal wire from this port. It was shooting pain everywhere – down my chest and into my right arm and I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to bother Dale either because he wasn’t feeling well. He caught some sort of stomach flu at the hospital and I wanted him to sleep. I just sat on the edge of the couch, not knowing what to do. Jeffrey must’ve heard my whimpering because he came out and waited until I agreed that he should wake up Dad.

 

Dale came out and once again sat with me, helped me to relax, talked me through the pain, and I fell asleep.

 

January 01, 2007

Happy New Year! It sure is going to be a challenging year, a difficult year, an emotional year. I know it‘s going to be hard. Some days I feel up to the challenge and other days I feel so lost, and so alone. Even though I have the support of so many people and my family, I still feel alone at times. I want to cry but I hold it back. If I cry, I will lose all credibility that I can do this, that I can fight this battle and win. I have to stay strong.

 

January 04, 2007

We went to Dr. C’s today. He took the stitches out from my port and put two small band-aids on it. I still had another week before the stitches from the re-excision would come out. I raised my left arm for him and he said I was doing great. Even though I didn’t think I was because it still hurts to raise my arm, he thought progress was good so I guess I should stop being so hard on myself.

 

My first granddaughter was born today. Kaylee Mariah was born to Kerry.

 

January 05, 2007

Today was a good day. I wore a bra for the first time since the operation. I drove the car. I went to see my hairdresser and she colored my hair one more time, and cut it really short. I love it. I always preferred myself in short hair but Dale never liked it. I was surprised that he complimented me on my hair when I came home. I think he was just saying that because he knew I would be going bald soon, so there weren’t any other options. 

 

January 10, 2007

I was feeling much better this week. I actually worked a few times down in the office. Life started to resemble life before I had cancer, except the stitches under my arm still hurt and my port still bothered me, and I tired easily. But I was working, and that was a good thing.

 

January 11, 2007

Dr. C removed the last of my stitches. I had healed well, he said, and I was ready to start chemo as soon as the oncologist, Dr. Mac could schedule it. I wouldn’t go back to see Dr. C for two months. I was going to miss this man who saved my life, this man who had a gentle kindness to him like no other doctor I’d ever known. 

 

January 15, 2007

Today was my first appointment with Dr. Mac. He was very nice. He wasn’t Dr. C, but I liked him. He told me my odds of surviving would normally be around 45% but being I was Her2 positive, it raised it to 52%. Not the best odds in the world, but hey, I was over the halfway mark! I would have to do a full year of chemo, followed by radiation. I felt very strong and knew I could do this. And who believes in statistics anyway?!

 

This week was so busy with the new website nearing completion. There was so much testing going on, and I had to get ready for the first SDV of the year. Next week, the site was going to go live and I didn’t feel like I had time to breathe!

 

January 22, 2007

The website went live! It seemed to be a great success, but with anything new there are a lot of people who don’t adapt well to changes. There were more Emails, more phone calls….and tomorrow was my first chemo treatment. I prayed that I could handle that and work too.

 

January 23, 2007

They put us in a nice private room where I sat in a comfortable recliner. The port was a great idea. They didn’t have to fight with my veins, but just stuck the needle into the port and I sat there for two hours while the IV dripped into my system. First the red liquid, then the clear. I didn't really worry about them making me sick or making my hair fall out. They are killing the cancer. Bring it on!

 

January 24, 2007 – January 27, 2007

I got sick the first night when I was getting ready to go to bed. That’s the only time I vomited. The rest of the four days I just felt nauseous – afraid to move too much – afraid of food! I worked on my laptop from the living room sofa, as much as I could. It wasn’t too bad. If this was the worst of it, I could handle it.

 

My youngest, 10 year-old Danny, asked if I would save him a lock of my hair after it fell out. He then asked if anything else was going to fall off like my nails. I thought it very peculiar and sort of morbid that he would want to save these things. I agreed to give him a lock of my hair, but I asked him why he would want anything else. His answer floored me. "That way, if anything ever happened to you, I could clone you and have you back here with me again." All I could do was hug him tight.

 

February 07, 2007

Every day since my first chemo, I tugged at my hair to see if any were loose, but nothing came out. I was getting ready to leave for the first SDV of the year, and I didn’t know if I should shave my head before I left or wait to see if it fell out. We drove up to Absecon, NJ the night before so I could get settled in and get a head start on setup. It was two weeks since my first chemo, and that’s when the Dr. said my hair would fall out. Sure enough, late that night, it was coming out by the handsful. By the time I decided I needed to shave, Dale and Jeffrey were both asleep, so I shaved my own head. What a feeling that was! My hands were shaking and sometimes I felt like crying, but I worked through it – not allowing myself to cry while I watched the familiar face in the mirror leave. By the time I was done, a new Nancy had emerged. A more confident woman, secure in the fact that I was a beautiful strong person who just happened to be bald!