I was in the bathtub when I found my first breast lump. I thought it was strange that I hadn’t noticed it before because I am small breasted (something that used to really bother me).Then I went on a mad lump hunt, and wouldn’t you know, I found another one.
I was dumbfounded…and soon, so was my doctor.
I was 29 years old and married with a four-year-oldson. My doctor told me to wait and go through a menstrual cycle because it was probably hormonal, but I didn’t wait that long because it was very painful and it’s all I could think about.
A mammogram showed nothing.We did an ultrasound and the radiologist patted me on the shoulder and said not to worry because I was too young for cancer, those were the worst words a medical professional could have ever spoken at that time.
I chose to have an excisional biopsy on March 31, 1998. Some dates you never forget. I can remember waking up in recovery and hearing the surgeon on the phone. I have no memory of what he said.When he told me it was cancer, I couldn’t even take in his words. He left the room and came back some time later and told me all over again.
I live in a small town and knew the nurse well. As the doctor was talking, she put her hand on my shoulder and I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes. I remember thinking, “I better pay attention because they are talking about me.”
Nine days later, I had a mastectomy in Minneapolis,three hours from my home.Both lumps were cancerous and two different types of cancer. I had microscopic lymph node involvement.
An oncologist entered my room andended up treating me for over 20 years before he retired. He was such a gift in my life as we had many opportunities to battle cancer together.
Chemotherapy was brutal in those days. Antinausea meds weren’t given until you needed them, and I definitely needed them on treatment day 1. I threw up and couldn’t function much for five days. At that time, I asked God to please take me if that was going to be the result anyways.At the end of the first week, I told God “OK, since I’m still here, I will fight.”
I have been doing that for over 24 years now.
A year after my diagnosis, I was surprised to find out I was pregnant. I was so scared, but I learned that God had so much bigger plans for my life than I ever could have imagined. My daughter is almost 23 now, and I could not imagine having a life without her.
Then in 2007, I felt a strange bump in my armpit.My doctor thought it was just a residual stitch, but thankfully he listened to me, and we investigated further. My mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer just a few months prior to this so she was my main concern at that time.
My surgeon went back in to remove the lump, and at that point, I found out I had metastatic breast cancer. She had removed all she could see, but she described it as a “paint brush splattering paint against the wall.” The cancer was scattered all over that area.She said I would need to be treated as chronic — a label that bothered me for a long time. However, people live with chronic illnesses all the time so I decided I could too!
Chemo, radiation and tamoxifen followed. My mom was getting worse when I started radiation. We didn’t live in the same town, but our radiation was in the same facility and we did treatments back-to-back: her first, and then me.My radiation team was phenomenal and when mymother passed away on Feb. 29, 2008, they were compassionate and flexible to keep my treatments going while I was mourning my most loved mom. I will never forget their kindness.
Prior to 2017, I started having many symptoms in my left hand and arm — the same side as my mastectomy. Nobody could figure out what was wrong, but the pain was changing me and making life unbearable.
I got the call on March 31, 2017, my original diagnosis date, that I had either cancer or inflammation. I knew what I was facing.
Fast forward to today, I am on treatment for life. I do infusions every three weeks, and have cancer in my brachial plexus and cancerous nodules in both lungs.
However, I am 53 years old, a proud grandmother of three and even though my left arm and hand aren’t helpful to me anymore, I still have a life!
This article was written and submitted by Deb Larsen; it reflects the views of Deb Larsen and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.
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