Deborah’s Story

Site created on July 28, 2021

For those of you who know me, I generally try not to be a mean, snarky, negative, complaining, cursing, ticked off machine.  But it all came out this week.  Just ask my husband.  And if he says I wasn't all of the above, he lives in a magical make believe place.  


Actually, I really would choose a magical make believe place this week than the place I have had to be in.  Magical is the opposite of where I've been.  There are certain things in life that we choose to believe will not happen to us.  The Lottery is a good example.  Cancer is another.  Maybe I want to be a unicorn who flies through the clouds and rainbows, immune from this awful reality.  But here I am.  


Flash back June 2020.  Mammogram - clean.  No issues .  Woot.


June 2021.  Annual check.  Wait, what?  There's a something something in there?  I'm sure the mammogram technician did something wrong, probably smudged the image.  I think I saw some pizza sauce on her chin, maybe it was on her fingers as well.  Okay no biggie, I will get a do-over.  


July 2021 - this is getting old, and my boobs are tired of being squashed between plates.  But lets get this over with.  Mammo re-do with an ultrasound.  


When the ultrasound was over, the technician wanted to check with the doctor to be sure they had good pics.  I lay on the table staring at the neon light on the ceiling.  The doctor came in.  As I lay on that table with a paper covering over my top half, he said that he didn't like what he saw.  Two masses.  Right breast.  Lymph Node enlargement.  Biopsies needed.  No need to jump to conclusions yet.  Okay.   Schedule biopsy for a week out.
Call later in the day - let's do the biopsies tomorrow at 8am.  Okay.  


So, I have to share.  Biopsies are not fun.  Not that any of you think that it was like a carnival ride or anything.  And they did seven biopsies on the two masses and the largest lymph node.  It hurt, and I just took to the bed for the rest of the day with ice packs.  This was on Thursday.  Results on following Tuesday.  


Waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.  Terrifying thoughts going through my head.  Could this be cancer?  No, stop thinking negatively.  Think positively.  I'm jumping to conclusions.  Wait for results.  Statistics say that most biopsies turn out fine.  I want to be one of those statistics.  Saturday was a special birthday celebration for two grandsons.  Go have fun and forget about it all.  


I realize how blessed I am with the support circle I have.  Hubby, daughters, sisters, friends.  All chasing those scary thoughts out of my head.  Now, if you know me - I tend to be a worrier.  But I know that about myself, and kept trying to think positive, this will all be behind me very soon.  


It's Tuesday.  Thank God.  Waiting, waiting, waiting for the phone to ring.  For this to end.  Finally at 1:00, I called them.  Dr. Rivera gets on the phone.  So let's stop for a minute - think of how it is when you are under water and someone is talking to you and it's very hard to understand what they are saying.   Invasive carcinoma what??  Metastisized where?  What?  Breast Surgeon?   I don't think this is real.  Wake up.  Wake up.  This is not happening.


Tears. Numbness.  Confusion over what to do next.  I receive the pathology report.  More numb.  I call my girls.  Hardest thing I ever had to do.  Tell them this news.  We are all shocked.  It's still Tuesday, and only hours into my new changed world.  I'm now that person who will identify as having breast cancer.  I can't even say those words.  


Today is Wednesday.  This was just yesterday?   Time seems to have come to a stop.  My life has changed.  My husband's life has changed.  My daughters' lives have changed.  Now they have a mom who has cancer.  


So tomorrow is Thursday.  I'm putting plans into place.  I have a Cancer Care Team.  I have a circle of love around me.  


My next post - I will talk about next steps, and talk about my plan, and talk about being strong.  For today, though, I have cancer.  I will find my way to a magical place where this doesn't exist anymore, but for today, I need to just say those words.  I have cancer.  I will become a Breast Cancer Survivor.  


More to come....................











Newest Update

Journal entry by Deborah Hutchings

Hello to all, it's me again, and thanks to all of you who continue to follow me here and send your warm thoughts.  

As many of you already know, it's been a very difficult six weeks since I started the Adriamycin and Carbo phosphate (aka AC Chemo Treatment, aka "Red Devil").  Without sharing a ton of gory details, I will retreat to my Wonderful World of Oz analogies.  I think last I left you, I may have been resting in a field of poppies, close to the end of the first leg of the journey.  The end of phase one (Taxol/Carbo chemo).  The halfway mark.  Well, if you recall, in the Wizard of Oz, the flying monkeys (let's say they are the flying AC Chemo monkeys) swoop in and whisk Dorothy away to the witch's castle, where she will now be held prisoner (and receive AC Chemo treatments, lol).  My journey to the witch's castle began the third week of December and continued for twelve weeks (four treatments) of the new chemo.  Suffice it to say, the doom and gloom of Dorothy's prison is a pretty decent visual of where I've been.  Requiring IV hydration and IV nutrition 2-3 times a week along with some pretty strong IV anti-nausea meds has really bonded me with my medical care team (who are pretty amazing).  I've just turned a corner and am starting to recover.  

Along with this happening, I've had some other chemo related issues arise (again won't bore you with the PHI) which I've had to see a specialist or two about.  Treatment continues weekly now, and surgery is on the horizon.  

Let's get to the positive (you know I always get there, sometimes ever so slowly).  My support team, which solidly consists of several Scarecrows, Tin Men, and Lions has NEVER let me down, and in many ways "rescued" me from the witch's castle and set me back on the road I need to be on. 

My Scarecrows - those people with the intelligence, who always know the right words to say, who know when to just sit and listen, who can say so much without saying a word.  The ones who dig in and do some research, who share their experiences.  You teach me, you listen to me, you love me, you always know what I need, sometimes before I do.  In the original book "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", when Dorothy falls asleep in the field of flowers, the scarecrow came up with the idea to make a chair with their hands and carry her.  The book notes that they walked on and on through a carpet of deadly flowers, that seemed like it would never end, until they got her to safety. Yes, my Scarecrows, you all know who you are.  
 
My brave Lions - you have the courage to tell me what I need to hear from your loving hearts.    You are not afraid of this disease, or the possibilities of the future, and you are brave enough to listen to me talk about what terrifies me or be there when I want to discuss my bucket list, or what I want to see happen in my unpredictable future.  If I want to talk about prognosis, recurrence, what I'm afraid of - I need my Brave Lions who have the courage to go there with me. You have the courage to love someone who is a little broken at times.   What my Lions taught me through this - "All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty."  I have learned a lot from the brave Lions - and you know who you are.

My Tin Men (and women 😉) - What can I say?  You love me through this.  Your great big hearts.  No matter what, I have no doubt that you are going to pick up the phone when I call.  You will give me minutes, hours, whatever I need.  You are the droppers of all other spinning plates (and you have many!!) if you even think I need you.  In "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" book, when Dorothy first met the Tin Man, we get the back story of his life before rusting.  He was in love with a Munchkin Maiden and the entire time he rusted in the woods, he only cared about the loss of his heart.  Not the rust, or the rain, or the duration of his plight.  My Tin Men have their priorities focused on love and what the heart tells them is important.  Thank you.  You all know who you are.  

This has been a lengthy post, I know.  For those of you who hung in reading, thanks for being there - you are likely a Tin Man, Scarecrow or Lion in my life.  Or a combination of all.  I thank you for how you carry me, teach me, listen to me, love me and encourage me.  

Credit of course to L. Frank Baum, author extraordinaire of "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz".
 
With love and gratitude,
Deb Hutchings
 

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