Hello, cancer!
I am 58 years young, a mother with one daughter, and no family history of breast cancer. Yet, here I am, the latest blip on the breast cancer radar screen.
While still trying to come to grips with this disease, I decided to write the beginnings of a new journey, because it is important to me to send this vital message to all women: do not take your breasts for granted. Whatever the size, no matter how perfect you now feel, take some time off to get “mammogrammed.”
I had my first-ever mammogram the week I turned 58, on February 9. It was the first I had, because some years back, I was told that a mammogram was painful. “Your breast will be squeezed flat like a pancake. It’s very painful.” A friend of mine told me that. The image of my breast being flattened into a pancake stuck.
The reality was galaxies apart in difference.
At the Asian Breast Center (ABC), they have a free-standing digital mammogram machine. My first experience with it was completely painless. The “squeezing” never happened because the machine stopped short of causing even a sliver of pain. Daryl Gonzales, the young medical technician that conducted the mammogram, was kind and super efficient.
There was no “pancake sensation” at all. I shook my head and thought to myself: All those fears, for so many years, only to discover yet, for the nth time, how technology keeps changing the world.
How sad that I had to undergo a mammogram at such a late stage in my life.
Three days after, the results from the radiology department was in all caps:
“IMPRESSION: SUSPICIOUS MAMMOGRAPHIC FINDINGS IN THE LEFT BREAST AS DETAILED ABOVE. NEEDLE CORE BIOPSY UNDER ULTRASOUND GUIDANCE FOR THE LEFT BREAST MASS IS WARRANTED.”
Oh, wow, I thought to myself. A biopsy is a serious thing. I grew up in a family that is dead scared of needles. My father described nurses as vampires every time he needed a blood extraction as a stroke victim. My old family dentist used to give me a sleeping tablet so I won’t be conscious during tooth extractions and other major dental procedures. That was the only way I could be enticed to go near his chair.
Yes, I am a coward. My threshold of pain is way below zero. And now, a frigging biopsy? OMG to the max, and beyond. But hey, I do love life so opting out is not part of the deal.
At the Asian Breast Center, they gave me a topical anesthesia that was strong enough for tattoo artists to use. The super cool Dr. Max Basco injected a local anesthesia, giving it time to work, before my needle core biopsy. Working in close tandem with Dr. Maria Theresa Buenaflor, they used ultrasound as a guide, avoiding blood vessels, and extracting samples from my left breast for diagnosis.
For all the terror I felt in my heart and the endless doomsday scenario playing out in my overimaginative head, the only wound that I ended up with after the biopsy was too small to even notice. They sent me home after putting an ice pack on the near-invisible wound. I didn’t even need a Band-Aid.
After the needle core biopsy, I then had a breast MRI with the assistance of a fellow Netflix addict, nurse Maria Elena Isabel Trinidad Legarda delos Santos, also known as “Sunshine.” When you get to meet her, you’ll understand why the name fits the character. In between diagnostic tests, we would chat about Ian Veneracion and Bea Alonzo’s love story, A Love to Last, which still streams on Netflix. Of course, I had to tell nurse Sunshine about Crash Landing on You, which I consider one of the best Kdramas of all time! Ooops, where was I?
Oh. The cancer. Yup, it’s in my left breast. I call it, “Mr. Sneaky.” When I found out about his dark, brooding presence, my first instinct was to simply ask my doctor to carve a door, out of my breast, and just ask Mr. Sneaky to quietly leave the premises. I guess it doesn’t work that way.
On Monday (February 24), I will be having my left breast removed. They call the procedure mastectomy. The breast surgeon/oncologist blessed with the privilege of taking out my breast is Dr. Norman San Agustin, the founder of Asian Breast Center. He is the breast man, oops! I meant the best man for the job.
Doc Norman has his own “Normanisms.” Whenever I consult him, I come home with notes that include such gems like: “I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry. We will help you get through this. Mas mahirap naman kung sumakay na sa barko ’yung cancer cells at bumiyahe na.”
When I keep badgering him to tell me what stage my cancer was at, he said: “May cancer na naka-wheel chair, may cancer na naglalakad, may cancer na mahilig tumakbo. Malalaman na lang natin ’yan sa araw ng surgery.”
I love my doctors. I trust the Asian Breast Center. But I don’t love Mr. Sneaky.
My daughter, Estelle, sister Baby, and lifetime partner, Fort, agreed that I should include early breast cancer detection in my shelf of new advocacies. If by writing and vlogging about this bump on the road, I would be able to convince even one woman to undergo a mammogram, then sharing this journey is worth my more transparent life.
That I am still a coward, there is no doubt. But hey, I love my God. And He loves me.
So, hello cancer!
I’m ready for you. Don’t even think of making yourself comfortable.
My boob is not your home.
****
Susan V. Ople heads the Blas F. Ople Policy Center and Training Institute, a nonprofit organization that deals with labor and migration issues. She also represents the OFW sector in the Inter-Agency Council Against Trafficking.
Comments