Nipples can die. Upon learning that I have three separate areas in my left breast that are cancerous, I opted for a mastectomy instead of the lumpectomy I had been planning on. And if that weren't devastating enough, I was told it would probably be best to remove the whole breast, nipple and all. I asked so many questions, just trying to wrap my head around this new "better" plan. Call it vanity, but I couldn't get past the no-nipple thing. The surgeon agreed that it wasn't mandatory that the nipple be removed, but that in some cases, when you have a mastectomy, there isn't enough blood flow around the areola and over time the nipple can grow dark, dry up, and die. All I could think of, upon hearing this revelation, was: when a nipple dies is there a burial? A service? Will we bow our heads and say a few kind words? THIS is how I know I'm not normal.
I don't do yoga. I do bacon. When I first met my surgeon's RN, she was leading me down a hallway to her office and reading my file. She suddenly stops and says, "I see here that you exercise daily. You do yoga. I don't get you people. I don't do yoga. I do bacon. It's much more enjoyable." And that was when I knew I loved her. I will follow that smartass lady wherever she wants.
I'm too skinny. What woman doesn't want to hear that? When discussing reconstruction and considering your options, doctors will tell you about three: silicone implants, saline implants and something called "flap surgery". Excuse me...what now? What on earth is that? Right off the bat I can tell it's not for me - it doesn't even sound pretty. I already feel like my breasts are saggy discs. Why would I want something that makes them sound, well, flappy? The doctor looks me up and down, and says, "Don't worry about it. You're too skinny for it anyway." Turns out flap surgery is where they take fat from your abdomen and inject it into your breast. My reaction of, "I'll see your too skinny tummy and raise you a pair of thunder thighs" did not open up any options for me, so implants it is!
Anka, bracca and her, too. I am getting quite an education and a whole new vocabulary with this breast cancer surgery process. In fact, I'm beginning to feel like I got cheated when I had my appendectomy in 2016; they taught me nothing! Of course, I am paying about a year's worth of college tuition in medical bills, so maybe this is the tradeoff. At first, I had no idea what the words coming out of these people's mouths were. It was like hearing a foreign language. Thankfully, just like in college, my new education comes with text books. Upon further research:
Anka is not a Russian woman who will be quizzing me about my surgery. Onco- is the shortened version of oncology and it's used as a prefix for certain tests and surgical procedures.
Bracca was what people kept calling a gene that gets mutated in people and can skyrocket a person's chances of getting breast cancer...again...and again...and again. It's seen more in people with Ashkenazi Jewish heritage. For that reason, I envisioned the word "bracca"....just like my kids used to say whenever we said a Jewish prayer. If you've ever heard a Jewish holiday prayer, they all start out the same, "Baruch attah...." When my boys were little, they didn't really "get" Hebrew (shocking, right?!). They pronounced these two words "bracca ta" and during Channukah they would ask me when were we going to say "our braccas". So clearly, this must be the word for that gene! (It's sometimes stunning to me how my brain works! In what world does that association even make sense?) As I've learned, medical jargon is NOT just cutesy words my kids made up 20 years ago. The BRCA gene stands for BReast CAncer. My brain actually hurts at the simplicity of this.
Her, too. This one plays out a little like an Abbott & Costello routine.
My doctor: The samples of breast tissue they've removed during your biopsies will be
analyzed to determine if you have breast cancer and will also be tested for her, too.
Me: Her, too? Her, who?
My doctor: Her who? No, HER2.
I still have no idea what HER stands for, but it's a test to determine if your cells are
responsive to chemotherapy.
Over time, radiation treatment can tighten and lift the breast. My doctor presents this information to me as a way to possibly dissuade me from opting for radiation treatment in place of allowing her to take dozens of lymph nodes out of my chest and underarm area. Apparently they dissect a lymph node while I'm under anesthesia for the mastectomy, and if it does something (I don't remember....lights up, dances around, screams in agony, breaks into a comedy routine...) then they remove every damn node they can find. If you say yes to this, you have a 30% chance of developing lymphedema: the swelling of your entire arm...permanently. If you say no, they tell you the alternative is to have radiation therapy which can, over time, tighten and lift the breast. I'm sorry, why didn't you lead with that?? That's all I was really looking for anyway! Can we rewind back to August? I'd like to change my order. I'll pass on the diagnosis, please, and just have the breast tightening, lifting treatment. Oh...it also comes with a tan?! In that case, I'll take two!
HER2? I'm still laughing, Jenn. xoxoxo