My surgeon called me on the weekend to tell me the results of my pathology report. There was good news and bad news, and I’ll share it with you in the order she shared it with me.
The good news – aside from the fact that my pathology report was finally available and my tumour hadn’t gotten lost in the shuffle – was that the tumour was smaller than expected. It was 1.1cm instead of 1.9cm.
The second piece of good news was that the tumour was very low grade. This three-point scale measures how aggressive the tumour is. Mine was a ‘1’ – a nice, mellow, laid-back tumour.
The third piece of good news was that pathology confirmed that the lymph nodes were clear (there was a 5% chance that they would be cancerous even though the initial exam during surgery said they were clear. But they’re 100% clear.).
The fourth piece of good news was that the “highways” to the lymph nodes were also clear, which I think means that the cancer wasn’t even on its way to the lymph nodes yet.
Then she got to the bad news, which is that there’s a chance she didn’t get all the cancer the first time round, and I need more surgery. She got clear margins around the tumour on almost all sides, but there’s an area of microscopic growth in one area that extends beyond the edges of the tissue that was removed. In order to ensure that the tumour doesn’t regrow, she needs to go back in and take out more tissue.
Which leads us to the other bad news, which is that it’s going to be difficult to schedule this surgery in a timely manner, because the operating rooms are booked solid from now until the end of time. It looks like we’re waiting for a cancellation or other stroke of luck.
“So,” I said, “I guess this is going to delay everything else – chemo, radiation, the referral to the oncologist?”
That’s when she gave me the final piece of good news. I may not need chemo after all. Normally they do chemo if the lump is over a centimeter, and mine is just over. But since it’s a very low-grade tumour, they might decide chemo isn’t necessary. It’s the oncologist’s call (and mine too, of course, but I’ll attach a lot of weight to the oncologist’s recommendation).
So, in the end, this feels like a healthy balance of good and bad news. Even though it sucks that I have to do everything twice (ultrasound, biopsy, and now surgery), it’ll be well worth it if it means I get out of chemotherapy.
Chemo works on the premise of poisoning you for your own good. It takes four or five months and it’s hard and unpleasant. You lose all your hair and it has other more hidden and more disturbing side effects that most people are reluctant to talk about.
Of course, if she finds more cancer when she goes back in (there’s a 10% chance), then I’ll likely have to go through chemo after all. It’s a chance I have to take, because I have no choice.
But right now I’m feeling lucky.
My first reaction is “WHEW” … my second … how can I help you?
I’m still keeping everything I can possibly cross, crossed.
A friend of mine went through chemo and didn’t lose ANY hair. Not a one. Similar case to yours. She had a lump removed five years ago and lives happily ever after. I think…or I’m pretty sure. It’s been a while; we took different forks.
Oh Zoom! Hooray hooray! With a tiny small side of oh dear, but still.
Mostly, it sounds like congratulations are in order. Yippee!
I second Oma, on both counts. And let me add another b.i.g. WHEW!!
This is really good news! “My” lump was a 9 out of 9 and I don’t recommend the chemo! A tumor rated 1 means it has been sitting there, growing ever so slowly for ages. You already know the surgery is a snap so I think you are practically home free! Now you can concentrate on getting back surgery a.s.a.p.
I am so pleased for you! I know, I am weird that way.
That’s great news!
Lots of good news. Too bad about the long wait. I sent you that letter from the Minister of Health, right? He suggests your doctor get on the phone and try hopitals in other cities — that was for the back thing, but maybe she could ask about both??
Yeah for good news! And bad news that’s not terribly horrible!
Awesome! That’s a whole lot of good news….
Zoom,
I am so glad that you did not get a really bad result. I admire you for your courage and ability to accept this report. I am sorry that you will have to have some more surgery, but I am sure that everything will be very positive from now on. Zoom, I really hope that you can get some relief from your back, and that you will soon be able to walk again. I will keep you in my prayers. GC you are such a good man to be so supportive of Zoom.
I’m glad the result was as good as it is. The way you write about it gives a lot of clarity.
Glad for more good news than bad news, and that the bad news was relatively small in comparison! You’re in my thoughts every day! *big hugs*
Arden
Thanks everyone! XUP, thanks for forwarding that letter from the Ministry of Health (and thanks also for writing to them in the first place). After I meet with the neurosurgeon on the 30th, I’ll have a better idea of his wait times and whether I can wait as long as he says I have to wait. If it’s unreasonable, I’m going to do what the letter suggested – get my doctor to start looking for out-of-town facilities that are better positioned to get the job done in a timely fashion.
But as for the breast surgery, I’m pretty confident that Dr. Arnaout will find – and exploit – a tiny hole in the OR schedule for me. She’s good that way. I just have to be nimble and ready to roll into surgery at a moment’s notice
It sounds like a very good prognosis and this must give you cause for celebration and hope. Still, this whole process is a challenge. I send you healing thoughts.