7-4-06

Introduction

First and foremost, I am not a doctor or nurse.  I am a patient.  This is my journal, my story.  The only advice I give is, talk to your doctors.  Ask as many questions as you need to get the answers that make you comfortable.  The more informed you are, the better you will be at making important decisions.  You’ll hear this often.

This journal is an ongoing process.  Some of it is silly and some of it is sad.  My goal is to tell my story with as much scientific and medical information to make it interesting yet in my own way.  It's a wonder I can even write a coherent sentence because I have and have always had dyslexia.  But that’s a story for another day. 

For me, this was a journey of a lifetime.  At the time of this writing, I was 58 years old and as healthy as a horse.  When I received my diagnosis, it was almost overwhelming but it wasn't going to be the end of my world.  I surrounded myself with positive friends and family.  I called them my support group and I included my Doctors so they could help me with the medical writing.

A Little Background

I was born Barbara Jean but later on, when I applied for an auto mechanic’s position at McCoy Ford, I shortened my name to BJ so they didn’t know I was a girl.  Oh, and I got the job.  I had a happy, loving childhood but I was a challenge for my parents because of dyslexia.  My mom would spend hours with me, over and over again, teaching me the time-tables.  Math became my favorite subject in school.  Dad was an entrepreneur and played the apartment rental game.  My entrepreneurial spirit, independence, enthusiasm, and love of life came from both my loving parents. 

I married my high school sweetheart but divorced him after 10 years and 3 babies.  I met my best friend Mike who encouraged me to continue my college education.  That's where I learned all about dyslexia and why I did, and still do, some of those silly things.  Giving a name to my awkwardness was like someone had broken my secret code and all the jumbled letters suddenly became words and sentences and awareness.  I earned degrees in computer science, business, marketing and electronics.  My interest in cars and racing came from Mike.

My best friend and I have owned and operated our own businesses for the past 30 years, mostly in hi-tech electronics.  We tried our hands at a trucking company, a couple of high performance engine building businesses, but hi-tech electronics was the most profitable.  Years later I married my best friend who had been by my side through the toughest times. 

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I decided to write about my adventure.  If my grandmother, or my aunt, or my cousin, or my older sister had written a journal, perhaps I could have compared notes on the advancements in procedures and medicines through the decades.  My older sister was the first survivor.  I decided to keep a journal to keep my sanity.  I was only going to travel this road once so I felt I needed to write about it.  My hope was to make this journal beneficial and interesting for others who are about to launch their own adventure.  I believe life is a journey and every moment, good or bad, is knowledge.  

Our Passions

Mike and I had always been die-hard quarter-mile drag racers.  Early on, Mike and I bracket raced at local racetracks, at Oswego, US 30 or Cordova, on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, whenever the weather was nice in Illinois.  Mike would unload the 1970 Ford Mustang off the trailer then I would unhook the trailer from the 1972 Ford station wagon.  Mike would race the racecar.  I would race the tow car.  We won a lot.  In 1976, we moved to Irvine, California where the weather was nice all year round and we began racing in National Hot Rod Association’s (NHRA) Stock class.  We won several national records in our 1970 Mustang from 1978 to 1984 with Mike behind the wheel.  We tired a hand in a class call Competition Eliminator for a while but it never came together and it was terribly expensive.  When Mike brought home a totaled-out 1983 T-Bird in 1983, I thought he had lost his mind.  But he rebuilt the car from the chassis up and we went Super Stock racing.  It was a step up from Stock and a step down from Comp.  A nice fit and it has been our favorite class ever since. 

Mike had an electronic background and I had a computer background so, being true-to-the-bone entrepreneurs, in 1984 we found a unique niche building custom test fixtures for major manufacturers of printed circuit boards.  It was a fast-paced electronics business in California, which we sold in 1990.  Then we moved to Tempe, Arizona just southwest of Phoenix and relocated ourselves within five miles of the closest racetrack, Firebird International Raceway.  Later in 1994, after our non-compete ran out, we opened another electronics company.  The business was very profitable in it’s day but work was declining because of NAFTA and the government’s incentives for big businesses to go off shore.  Business slowed down to a crawl after 911 2001.  By 2005, we had streamlined our business enough to live on, but more importantly, we had decided it was time to play.  Instead of working so hard, we would do more traveling, visit more customers out of state, and of course, do more racing. 

The Beginning of 2006

The T-Bird was beginning to show some ware and Mike had wanted to build something newer.  He bought a body-in-white from Ford and completed our 2000 Cobra R Mustang from pieces and parts bought off Ebay.  The first race of the year was in our own backyard at Firebird in February.  Mike was supposed to go gentle on the first pass down the track but he said, “The car felt so good I just had to run it all out.”  It ran a 10.598 at 125.45.  That meant, from the time it would take you to count to 10 the car was traveling 125 miles per hour.  A picture of Mike’s humongous wheel stand made its way to a racer’s website.  You can almost see the bumper hitting the ground.  Mike won Class and a trophy, for a race within the race, but lost first round of the elimination with a red light.  He had left the starting line to soon by six-thousandths (.006) of a second, less then a blink of an eye.  A .000 would have been perfect.  Ouch! 

We took a break in racing to do a little work.  By then, we were only taking the stuff we really want; no more high-pressure jobs.  We had no employees except for one part-time guy who worked as a consultant.  I had opened an online bookstore at http://www.amazon.com/shops/BestOfBJ for a little extra cash.  It was my two-cents worth and I loved it because it relaxed me. 

The first of March we set out on our first mini-tour of the year.  Combining as many races as possible had become very important because of the ever-increasing price of fuel, $2.84 a gallon.  We took interstate 10 across to Florida.  When we got to the east side of Texas and into Louisiana, we were amazed to see how much destruction and debris remained from Katrina.  Hurricane Katrina hit Texas and Louisiana hard in 2004 and almost wiped New Orleans and a few other cities off the map.  It was as if a huge giant had grated his fingers through the sand.  Enormous swipes of the landscape were missing while other parts remained untouched.  The trees had been plucked from the ground then turned upside-down and stuffed back in with the root side up.  Some trees were still hanging in the top branches of other trees.  The houses that remained standing all had blue tarps slung across the roofs.  Piles and piles of lumber and debris were everywhere.  Road signs and advertising signs were twisted and mangled like flimsy pieces of wire.  Many of the roads and highways had been closed, except to local traffic because of the looters and sightseers. 

We went on to race at Gainesville and then Bradenton, FL, where we won Class but lost first and second rounds respectively.   On to Tampa, where we enjoyed a short visit with my mom and step-dad.   They were in great health except for the hearing loss.  Shouting had become a standard.  They had property right off the gulf coast so looking out over the pier was like looking into a vast aquarium with all the colorful exotic fish swimming by.   

From Tampa, we headed back to race at Houston, TX.  It was only a 3-day race and the car was not happy.  During first round of eliminations, our opponent showed up late, which normally would have been enough to break anyone’s concentration.  But then our starter kicked back in the staging lanes and ignited the carburetor.  Even a small fire under the hood is not a good thing.  Mike jumped out of the car and had a hard time opening the hood because he found the latch had broken.  Once he finally got the hood open, he easily put the fire out, but to say the least, he lost the round.

The Discovery of a Lump

Somewhere along the way back, I developed a lump under my left arm.  I discovered it the end of March while doing my monthly self-exam.  It did not hurt but it was very uncomfortable; like having a bunched up t-shirt constantly in the deepest part of my armpit.  At first I thought it was an in-grown hair but when it persisted after 2 weeks, I decided to have it checked out when we returned home.  I made my appointment for a “well women’s” physical.  They told me it would take 5 weeks to get in.  The doctor said it was probably nothing to worry about because it was under my arm and not in my breast.  We did some work, completed a few orders, and made some happy customers.  Then we headed to Las Vegas for more racing.

Las Vegas had always been entertaining but that trip was a bummer.  The car never felt quite right and we could never quite get it sorted out, so we headed home.  The following weekend, Speed World held the Stock/Super Stock Combo at Wickenburg, northwest of Phoenix,.  It was two days of racing in April and tons of fun.  On Saturday, Mike got a buy, which meant no competitor for the first round.  He was dead late on the light the second round but still won.  Then red light fouled in the final round.  On Sunday, he won Best Package.  He got another buy, and then won second round with a better light.  He runner-upped in the finals and won the Run Off with overall points collected during all the races.  He also got some freebees, a padded mat for crawling under the car and 4 gallons of trailer wash.  What a weekend!  Without doubt, it made up for Vegas.

I finally got in for my physical on May 2, which included the usually girly stuff and a full blood workup that included a check of my cholesterol.  Thursday, two days later, I had my bone density tests.  I had to wait another two weeks for the mammogram.  My older sister suggested getting an ultrasound done on the area in question.  Sherry had her right breast removed nine years prior.  Moreover, my cousin and aunt had died of breast cancer when they discovered it too late in both cases.  My maternal grandmother had breast cancer way back in the 50’s.  The blood tests came back a bit high on cholesterol, which I had been fighting forever, but otherwise, all was normal.  My bone density came back with the bones of a 30 year old, and the ultrasound showed nothing out of the ordinary.  I had not gotten the results of the mammogram but I was sure it would be just fine too.  With such a relief, we headed out on our second mini racing tour at the end of May.

Topeka, KS held a spooky surprise for us.  Somehow, the crank key on the motor had worked its way out so the spacer fell off.  That caused the belt to slip, which bent all the valves in the heads.  This never happens.  Luckily, we had a spare set of heads but not so lucky, we had no spare crank spacer.  We spent the afternoon at a local junkyard.  Friday was not any better.  The belt had stretched and then as a final point broke.  We were done, so we headed to our land in East Moline, IL and to visit with Mike’s folks. 

The plan was we were going to Illinois to do some car repair and go fishing on our seven-acre, Rock River property.  We would do some visiting with Mike’s family in East Moline then head up to a high school graduation party for my granddaughters, in Sandwich.  While I was there, I was going to spend a few days with my parents, who had just returned from Florida.  Then visits with my sisters, my son and his family, grandkids, great-grandkids, then my daughter and her family.  Once the car was repaired, we were going to do some bracket racing at Cordova, Mike’s old hometown track, then the NHRA event at Joliet.  From there, we would head up to Brainerd, MN to race and to visit my oldest daughter and her family.  I can’t remember where we were going from there but it all came crashing down to a standstill just 3 days into the visit when I received the phone call from the doctor’s office.  “We need you back right away for more tests,” said Abby quietly over the telephone.  It appeared that one of my mammogram images had a “suspicious” area.  “They need you back right away for further images and a review,” she said.  I told her, “Why don’t you to compare the images with my old films.  I’m sure it will be okay.”  With a sigh Abby explained, “We don’t have any old films to compare other than the 1997 films.”  Apparently, the previous imaging center had gone out of business and all my films had been destroyed.  The whole conversation just panicked Mike and made me totally angry.  Almost every mammogram I have ever had needed to be redone because on an old rib injury.  It caused a shadow.  No big deal.  But why were they calling me back so urgently?  “But we’re racing and on vacation,” I pleaded.  Mike insisted we immediately pack up and head home. 

While we were there, Mike had made a trade with his brother for a 1929 Ford Model A and loaded it and the broken engine into the trailer.  We decided to leave the racecar behind.  Mike assured his folks, “We’ll be back just as soon as we can, probably in just a couple of weeks.”  Mike would never leave his beloved racecar anywhere for more than a couple of weeks.

More films were taken but the spot remained suspicious and in question.  My reports said, “Prominent lymph node left axilla with questionable intra-mammary lymph node vs nodule upper outer quadrant, with spot compression images suggested.  Breast ultrasound identifies an elliptical solid nodule at the site of the marking device and palpable nodule, possibly fibro adenoma, follow-up suggested.”  So, something really had been discovered during the ultra sound.  My clinic doctor sent me to a specialist.  As it turns out, the specialist was chief of staff at the Chandler Regional Hospital and number 17 of 374 leading doctors in the field of lapproscopic surgery and specialized in cancer cases.  I was going to be in good hands.  The first thing he did was order a biopsy. 

The Biopsy

Chandler Hospital was only 10 minutes away from our house.  Mike drove.  “They said you might be too sore to drive home,” he said with concern.  And he knew that I needed him there for moral support.  Chandler Hospital was a new, Southwestern open-air style in structure with high ceilings and many windows.  It was modern with pictures and posters of the additions, changes and sponsors all over the walls.  After waiting only five minutes, I was ushered to the registration counter.  It reminded me of registering for collage.  There, we went over insurance, insurance assistance if needed, release forms and admission forms.  I received a wristband for identification, and then waited with Mike in the lobby for my turn.  We chatted, tried to remain calm, and reassured each other, “This will be just fine.”

Being a very progressive hospital, it had access to the latest equipment including a stereotatic-imaging biopsy machine.  When the nurse called my name, I kissed Mike for luck.  I was lead down a hall to the very last room.  The equipment with its robotic looking arm, a generator with a see-through lead protected shield, a roll-around stand with the computer and screen, and the brown-padded gurney, filled the small 10’ x 10’ cream colored room with its shiny floor.  On the wall was a lighted display with all my films.  The technician went over to the mammogram films then said, “The films show this area in question,” as she pointed to the circles on the films.  “It has a pointed star-like shape.  We don’t like that.  We’re going to go in and remove samples and send them to a lab for analysis.  This technique is considered minimal invasive but you will feel some pressure.”  When I was temporarily out of questions and felt somewhat comfortable with the answers and the procedure, she numbed the area. 

I had to lie face down on the special padded gurney, which was actually quite comfortable, and had a hole in the bed to allow my breast to drop through.  “Lie very still,” she said as the machine gently adjusted to my breast and she began taking images.  Because the computer screen was right in front of the bed, I could watch the images too.  The machine took computerized digital images that were somewhat in 3-D.  She said, “The idea of using stereotatic biopsy is that a lesion can be located precisely in 3-D by calculating its apparent change in position on angled images.  The first image locates the abnormality in the breast.  Then two stereo views are obtained, each angled 15 degrees to either side of the first image.  The lesion is electronically marked then the computer calculates how much the lesion’s position appears to have changed on each of the stereo views.  That way it is possible to determine the exact site in 3-D.”  Of course, my untrained eye could not make much of it, but it was quite interesting nonetheless.  When the set up was just perfect, she called in a staff doctor to confer and began the biopsy. 

The machine had a probe about the size of a large drinking straw, round, hollow, with a very sharp tip.  Very quickly, without much pain, but with lots of “pressure” and “discomfort,” it shot into me like an arrow.  She explained, “The computer will guide a 14-gauge needle into the area in question.  Once there, the computer will take more images to confirm that the needle tip is exactly where it should be.  The needle will produce 20mm-long cylindrical samples that are 2mm in diameter.  We’ll take about 6 samples.  Then using vacuum, it will suck the samples out.”  After the samples, she took more images then inserted a tiny titanium, 1/64” marker into the area in case they needed to go back in later.  If the tests were negative, it would be left there forever,  “No it won’t set off alarms at the airport and no it wasn’t a government tracking devise,” she said quite dryly.  Apparently, a few of her customers had concerns.  “Do people actually ask these questions?” I asked in awe.  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” She said with a slight, all-knowing smile.  After I quit bleeding, something they seemed to be a bit concerned about, I needed to get more mammograms done of the “new me.”  That meant more pushing and prodding.  By the time I got out of there, I had a half-inch hole and a huge bruise on half of my left breast. The biopsy itself only took about 25 to 30 minutes but I was in there for about 1 hour due to all the questions and answers.  She was very patient with my curiosity and I appreciated that.

During the ride home, Mike had to listen while I babbled on about all that had just happened.  I am not sure whether he really wanted to hear it all, although he seemed interested and was supportive.  By the time we got home, I was totally black and blue, even though it really did not hurt much.  It would be a few days, before we could remove the bandage to assess the damage.

The Biopsy Results – It is Cancer

It was exactly one week later when the doctor called me back into his office.  Of course, I drove myself because Mike was working and I was not expecting anything but, “we’re sorry for the pain and inconvenience but you’re just fine.”  However, when the doctor walked in and told me “Please sit,” I knew this was not good. 

Dr Edgar Hernandez was a thin man, about 5’ 7”, with a warm, gentle face covered in a well-groomed, gray, almost white, beard and mustache.   He tried to explain what he found. “The biopsy came back positive,” he said with a frown.  “Okay, what exactly does that mean,” I asked very slowly.  “I need to go in for exploratory surgery,” he replied as he came closer waiting for my reaction.  “We want to make sure,” he said with a gentle smile.  “It’s just a precaution.”  My mind started racing.  Of what?  What do you mean exploratory surgery?  Me?  But I never get sick.  I don’t even have a regular doctor.  Never have needed one.  Thoughts and questions started hammering in my head.  “I’m going to need to get a better look,” he said trying to be as comforting a possible.  “I’m sure everything is just fine.”  I did not cry, get excited, or anything.  I was simply trying to digest what had just happened.  My life as I knew had just change.  I told him how breast cancer runs in my family, “My maternal grandmother, my aunt, my cousin, and my older sister all got breast cancer.  I guess it’s just my turn.”  With a pause and sigh I said, “Okay, so what do we do now?”  His face lightened with a whole new expression as he heard my words.  I was a realist and he knew I was going to be just fine.  As he led me out of his office he said, “My girls will schedule an appointment to get you in as soon as possible.”  He smiled then went on to his next patient.  One of the assistants, told me to have a seat while she checked my insurance and the scheduling at the hospital.  That was when it all started to sink in.

Awful thoughts came rushing in like a flashflood of cold, ugly, dirty water, with hard and cold.  “How could I have done this to Mike.  I am going to die and leave him all alone!  How is he going to handle our business by himself?  The bookkeeping, what about the bookkeeping?  I hadn’t even done the taxes yet.  How am I going to tell him?  No, no, no, I’m not going to die.  Calm down.  That’s just silly.  This is just another way to get money from the insurance companies.  What a scam!  I didn’t feel sick.  I felt fine.  They must have me confused with someone else.”  Tears began to form in the corners of my eyes.  “I can’t think like this.  Stop it.  Stop it!”  I got up and walked over to the desk.  “Can I have a copy of those biopsy results?” I said.  “Sure. Not a problem,” and she began making copies. “It’s going to be just a few more minutes before the hospital gets back to me,” she said.  “Please take a set over there.”  While I was waiting, I read the report.  It was a very formal, very detailed report.  “How am I going to tell Mike?”  I thought.  Tears started filling my eyes again.  “How am I ever going to tell Mike?  It’s just my turn?  It runs in my family and this is no surprise?  But it was a surprise.  It was happening to us.  We were going to battle with cancer.  There I said it, cancer.”  I needed to change my thoughts while I waited.  I began looking around the room.  The décor was cozy with antiques, old fashion accessories and soft blues and pinks, and hard light-oak trimmings.  Old wooden blocks that spelled out, “I Love Summer” sat on a shelf with old apothecary bowls.  “That’s a lie,” I thought.  It was the nicest doctor’s office I had ever seen.  It was soothing and warm, and smelled good too, vanilla.  Just what I needed and I began to calm down.

The assistant came back, stooped down beside me as she handed me a sheet of instructions.  She very carefully and gently went over the time I was to be at the hospital.  “Don’t eat or drink anything after 12 o’clock midnight,” she said.  “Are you allergic to anything? Are you taking any blood thinners?”  “No, I only take Tylenol and I think but I’m not sure, I’m allergic to antihistamines and or codeine because I had a bad reaction to Nyquil once,” I said.  She put an arm around my shoulder and said, “Everything will be all right.  Be sure someone goes with you.  This is out patient surgery but you will be drossy and you will not be able to drive yourself home afterwards.  Just go to the out patient’s desk and they’ll be waiting for you.”  I wondered how many other times she did the exact same thing and said the exact same words to some other poor soul.

Telling Mike

My drive home seemed like forever.  I was so worried about what Mike would say.  I didn’t want pity.  I did not want him worrying about me.  I had always been strong.  I was the one who is supposed to take care of us.  I was the wife, the mom!  “Oh, sure we take care of each other but he doesn’t even know how to cook or do laundry,” I said to myself out loud.  “That’s an exaggeration of course but…” Tears swelled in my eyes but I did not cry.  I called him on the cell phone but wouldn’t tell him much.  “Let’s talk about it over lunch,” I said.  I knew he was worried.  He was at the shop so I met him there.  We went to lunch at Wendy’s because it was close.  I assured him that the surgery was just precautionary.  “He’s going to take what needs to be taken from this part of by breast,” as my hand hovered over the hole from the biopsy.  “Then he needs to take the sentinel lymph node.  It’s probably the one swollen anyway under my arm here.  Dr. Hernandez said the sentinel node is the lymph node closest to the infected area.  Once he gets all that stuff out, he’ll send it to the lab for analysis.  But it’ll be fine then we can still make a few races.”  Mike held my hand then we ate lunch.  “It will be fine,” he assured me.  “When?”  He wanted to know when the operation was going to be.  I told him, “Next Wednesday,” just one week.  It seemed like I had just healed from the biopsy.  “We have to be at the hospital early for pre-ops and blood tests.”  He squeezed my hand again, “It will be all right.  We can do this.”

We went back to the shop.  “Do you want me to drive you home?”  Mike asked.  “No, I’ll be all fine,” I said trying to hold back tears and make light of the situation.  I kept saying, more to me than to him, “It’s just my turn.  I believe in science.  And look at all the advancements they’ve made in just the last 5 years!”  Then it dawned on me, what I was saying was true.