This first one is going to be a little longish. There’s a lot to explain. So maybe I should start with the Why.

I was recently diagnosed with left breast cancer.  At first we thought it was caught at the earliest stage.  I even joked with my sister that I had said once when working in oncology that if I had to pick a cancer, I’d pick that.  She recommended that next time I pick marshmallows instead of cancer.  Point taken.  Now, however, the stage (how far it has spread, basically) is unclear.  Subsequent testing (MRI) make it look as if it might be more involved than thought.  And it seems as if every test I have creates the need for another one, and delays having any answers.  This is not only frustrating and scary for me, it is also those things for the people who care about me.  And it creates this need to have difficult conversations over and over again.  Don’t get me wrong,  I love to connect with my circle.  But it is also emotionally exhausting.  The worst part about all of this is seeing the pain it causes for others.  So a friend of mine suggested a blog.  So here I go!

Why nopinkribbonsplease?  It’s not that I am anti-breast cancer research or support.  I’m not a jerk.  It came up when I was sharing my anger and irritation with my therapist, and she got it right away.  She said, “Yeah, I can see that.  It’s like you’re relegated to a life of pink ribbons from here on out.”  Exactly.  I love my therapist.

The point is, I’m not just a breast cancer patient.  A pink ribbon doesn’t describe me very well at all.  It says nothing about my relationships, which are wildly important to me.  Or about what I like to do.  Or maybe more importantly, what I like to say that I do when I’m actually doing other things.  For example, I say I like to hike.  I like to plan to hike the next day.  What I’m actually doing while I’m planning a hike is sitting on the couch, eating Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, and watching The Mindy Project.  I also say I like research.  What I actually do is get on facebook, or go down the hall to visit Renee, and talk about how I’m not getting any research done.  But I digress.  A pink ribbon doesn’t tell you that I’ve spent the last four years of my life working on my Ph.D.  Or that the Ph.D. will (hopefully) one day be in psychology.  Or that my focus is school psychology.  Or that my research involves creating safe schools  LGBT youth.  It doesn’t say that I am very political, intensely so sometimes.  It doesn’t tell you that my brother died only a little over a month ago of cancer, and I’m pissed that my family can’t seem to catch a damn break. Or that I actually don’t really like the color pink, and it irritates me that just because this disease affects mainly (not solely) women, everything about it has to be swathed in pink pink pink.  Pink ribbons make me feel as if my world is shrinking to only include the one thing I’d rather not be included.  Like all the fun, smart guests have left my party, and now I’m just stuck with this unwelcome guest, the one I didn’t even invite.

Perhaps I’m in denial, not wanting to join the ranks of breast cancer patients, dragging my heels, what have you.  Maybe someday I’ll decorate my whole house in pink ribbons and tattoo my body with them.  But for now, no pink ribbons please.  Why the please?  Because that’s just polite.  That’s how my mama raised me.

So… the What.  I will use this as a way to keep everyone who wants to read it updated on the latest.  That might include which tests are coming up, what the results are or when to expect them, or maybe just what I’m feeling about it all.  I guess I don’t completely know yet.  Maybe it’s also a way to not ONLY sit on the couch and watch The Mindy Project.  Because I’m scared of the day when a plan to go on a hike is postponed not due to laziness, but because it is wildly unrealistic.

So far, I have had mammograms (irregular), ultrasound (suspicious), a biopsy (left breast invasive ductal carcinoma, staging and size unknown because the facility I went to didn’t do enough testing) and MRI (“a lot of activity there, even in the right breast”).  The MRI made it look as if a lumpectomy may be out of the question. Tomorrow I go in (not to the same facility) for several (up to seven) biopsies and ultrasound.  The results from those should tell us the extent of the cancer, and whether the cancer cells have hormone receptors.  That, in turn, will inform what type of surgery, whether chemo and radiation are necessary, and which should come first.  I’m hoping to know by next Wednesday.  I’ll let you know when I do.