Opening My Eyes

May 27, 2016 started out like any other day. I rushed around the house, trying to get everything ready before walking the dog and taking Roya to preschool. I grabbed a mini muffin and a sip of water, when I felt an odd and sharp pain in my chest. I thought to myself:

I’m going to faint. Let me sit down on the floor.

The next thing I knew I came to on the tile floor. I was disoriented and screaming loudly. Roya was crouched over me, gently rubbing my leg and saying:

You’re okay, Mommy. You’re okay. I’m here. Don’t cry.

I made it over to the couch and called Elizabeth, a friend in the building. I somehow managed to convey that I needed help, and she thankfully came over. Within the hour, Elizabeth walked my dog and took Roya to preschool and me to Sibley Hospital.

At 9:15am, the ER wasn’t busy so the doctors saw me quickly. A few of the routine tests (EKG, blood and CAT Scan) followed. After learning that all of the tests were clear, I assumed that I could leave soon thereafter. But, the ER Chief wanted to keep me that afternoon for observation.

Me: Really?!? Why do I need to stay, if all the tests are clear?

ER Chief: Well, it’s good that your tests are clear, but when you came in, you presented as though you might be having a stroke. We just want to make sure that isn’t the case.

Given my medical history, I’ve heard a lot of things over the years. But, a possible risk for a stroke was a new one. I didn’t question heeding the doctor’s advice. (Later, Elizabeth shared that she, too, had the same stroke concern.)

Me, exhaling deeply: OK. Would four hours be long enough to know if I’m no longer at risk for that? See…I’m 100% parent, and my toddler has her school performance today. I would only have to be at the show for five minutes, but I’d really like to represent if I can.

ER Chief [looking at her watch]: Yes, we would know by 3pm. And, I have a toddler, too, so I get it.

Luckily, the next four hours passed quickly and uneventfully. During that time, I emailed the assistant at Roya’s preschool and learned she had a great day. I also gave them a heads up that I would be at the show and told them to let Roya know that I would be in the audience. I was discharged with a referral to see a cardiologist.

My friend picked me up to take me to Roya’s school, and I texted Nanny A while en route. I told her that I would be there, but that I would be looking like ass. (For those who doubt just how bad I looked, imagine especially disheveled hair, no makeup, and an attire of Umbro shorts, a t-shirt and Old Navy flip flops. Nanny A later told me that in two years, she had never seen me look that bad.) Deep down, though, I knew that how I looked didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was there.

Roya’s class sang their little hearts out. Once she walked off of the stage, the magnitude of the day hit me. I went from cheers and applause to sobbing in the back of the auditorium.  I managed to collect myself in the school foyer before Roya saw me.

An hour later, the three of us were back at the house. I went to grab something from the kitchen, when Roya said:

Please don’t fall and lie down in the kitchen again.

I had figured that Roya would say something to me about what happened, and she did. I exhaled before walking toward her, giving her a big hug and responding:

I’ll try not to! That must have been really scary for you. [She nodded.] It was scary for me, too. But, I went to the doctor, and they said I’m okay. And, you were so brave! You’re such a big girl.

Nanny A and I looked at each other, and she nodded in approval. We went back to eating our dinner and then let Roya play for a bit. Roya was intently focused on her toys, when she looked up at me and said:

Your eyes were closed, and I helped you open them.

Nanny A and I both tried to hold back tears at such an incredibly sweet and insightful comment from our almost three-year old.

“You did, Roya. You did,” I replied while giving her as many kisses as I could.

A few days later, I had a realization. Over the past three years, Roya has opened my eyes to so many things in so many ways. God willing, she will for decades to come.

Roya, Stef Woods, City Girl Blogs

As a PS, I met with the cardiologist, and all is indeed well. He believes I had a vasovagal response, and I’ll be keeping a close watch on my low blood pressure.

My 2015 Recap

A year ago, I focused on how my glass was half full. I was – and am – thankful to be a mom and an educator. Nonetheless, as 2014 drew to a close, there were still a lot of loose ends in my life:

  • Was my breast cyst benign or malignant?
  • Could I physically handle my job? (I only had six days between my lumpectomy and the start of the semester. I had three new classes to teach and 30 more students than the previous semester. And, I still had my usual two migraines a week.) Assuming that I could handle the added responsibilities and that the cyst was benign, would my full-time contract be renewed?
  • Was I really at peace with no longer being in a relationship with The Man? Or, would I return to my old pattern of going back to an ex-boyfriend?
  • How would I fare at being a single mom?
  • Where would Roya get into preschool? (The DC preschool hustle is an interesting process with applications, recommendations and interviews.)

Today, I can reflect on all of those questions and stressors with a huge sigh of relief.

Most importantly, surgery in January revealed that the cyst was benign. My November MRI showed no evidence of cancer. According to my oncologist, I now have the same risk of anyone else my age of getting breast cancer. Breast cancer thus becomes a disease I had, not a disease from which I’m in remission. That matters clinically and psychologically.

On the work front, I’ve been able to handle all of my responsibilities effectively. My contract has been renewed through May 2017, and I get excited every time I head to campus. I recently was asked what I liked best about my students. I paused as I tried not to shed any tears and replied, “How much time do you have?” I know how lucky I am to truly love what I do.

I also appreciate where I am professionally. If an opportunity as a panelist or expert doesn’t benefit my continued role as an instructor, I have the ability to respectfully decline. Choosing what’s been the right fit has led to some amazing opportunities, though. A few highlights:

  • Speaking about The Hunger Games to a sold-out audience at The Smithsonian;
  • Being interviewed by Associated Press about drone technology;
  • Filming a short video for WebMD about what to expect when you’re diagnosed with breast cancer; and
  • Talking about selfies for American Magazine.

With respect to The Man, I do not doubt that we were meant to meet and fall in love. I also do not question that we are no longer meant to be a couple. He was put in my life so that Roya would be born. He was a love in my life, and there will be another in the future. She is the love of my life.

As far as being a single mom, I don’t view that term — or my reality — as a negative. Roya is a great kid, and I’m thankful to be in control of every day and every decision in her life. And, I can exhale, knowing that she ended up in the right preschool for her.

Is our life utopic? Of course not.

Parenting is joyously exhausting (or exhaustingly joyful?). Between Roya’s sleep patterns, grading and curriculum development, a five-hour stretch of sleep is a good night for me. And, it would be nice to have time to see my friends, work out and write. But, I know how privileged I am to say that the toughest parts of my year were lack of sleep, missed brunches, and wanting to fit into my skinny jeans.

stef woods, city girl blogs

As we change the calendar to 2016, I pray that the new year brings Roya and me more of the same. I am truly content with my relationships, my family and my job. I go into 2016 without any loose ends. Roya and I are blessed to be happy and (knock on wood) healthy. I hope the same for you and your loved ones, too. xoxo

Am I Really OK?

Thank you to all of you who texted, emailed, clicked “like” and commented in response to my relationship update post. Given the humbling outpouring of support, I wanted to provide some additional clarification as to how I’m doing and what’s next.

Am I okay?

Yes. I grieved the end of my relationship with The Man long before our relationship ended. By the time I was ready to move on, I knew that was the right decision for me. The break up thus was empowering and reaffirming, not sad or confusing. It took me until my 40s to realize that the only person that I could change in any relationship is myself. And, I did.

For over six years, my blog has been a safe space for me to share my ups and downs and process my emotions.  If this break up was tough for me, I would have presented that honestly and without shame.

I also didn’t blog our break up in real time. So, what’s fresh to many of you isn’t fresh to me. I allowed myself the time to feel something different, but that didn’t happen. What was the right choice for me to make at the time is still thankfully the right choice for me and Roya today.

city girl blogs, stef woods

Isn’t it hard to be a single parent?

Yes, but isn’t it also difficult to be the default parent (the parent responsible for the overwhelming majority of matters involving the children)? Being on my own hasn’t made me any less exhausted, but I’m far less resentful.

In addition, I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, and I’ve never viewed marriage as the end goal of any relationship I’ve been in. For years, I had envisioned that I would raise a daughter as a single mother. The path toward that reality was just different from what I had initially planned.

Will I be blogging more about The Man and the end of our relationship?

No. Since we began dating, I’ve written very little about our relationship. I won’t change that approach now. I respect The Man’s privacy, and I don’t need to write about my past or present interactions with the father of my child on a public forum.

Will I be blogging about my current and future dating life?

Ha! And, no. Dating is so low on my list of priorities right now. (I commented to a friend recently that I need a night nanny and a personal assistant, not a man.) For all intents and purposes, I had stopped blogging about my dating life in late 2011. I’m glad I wrote about my old adventures, but I’ll leave it to another capable woman to share her perspective as a Single Mom in the City!

I wish that I could be as strong as you.

Staying in a relationship doesn’t make you weak, and leaving this relationship doesn’t make me strong. (I would be a hypocrite to say anything to the contrary, especially given my dating life in my 20s and 30s!) If you’re making the right choices for yourself, even if it’s just the right choice for this particular day, then you don’t need to justify that decision to anyone else. Whether you stay or whether you go, trust in your judgment and allow yourself to feel your feelings whatever they may be.

Again, thank you. xoxo

A Relationship Update

Three years ago, I wrote about my relationship with The Man and had introduced him to my close friends and family.

I met The Man at my end-of-treatment fundraising celebration, and our relationship was on the fast track soon thereafter. Just how fast?

  • February 2012: We started dating.
  • April 2012: I had a double mastectomy.
  • June 2012: We moved in together.
  • October 2012: I learned I was pregnant.

He was my rock and my love. And, then, he wasn’t. Somewhere between the two points, our daughter, Roya, was born.

It might seem simplistic to condense a relationship of several years into three sentences, but it really is that simple. Trying to navigate whether The Man and I had a future together was complicated and emotion filled. Accepting that our relationship had run its course wasn’t.

For years, my blog was devoted to relationship drama and over-analyzing every minute detail. (Or, was that my life?!?) It was difficult for me to ever have a clean break with someone I loved. I was the Queen of On-Again, Off-Again Relationships!

By contrast, the end of this relationship was a clean break. Once I made the decision, there wasn’t the need to talk about it ad nauseam or seek others’ validation, as I had previously done. My mom always said, “Closure is a female notion. When a relationship is over, it just is. “ She was right.

A dear friend commented that since cancer, I’ve had zero tolerance for nonsense. (I think her exact words were, “You no longer put up with any bullshit.”) Roya has raised the bar even higher. I now know my worth and my purpose. I’m thankful that The Man loves Roya, and Roya loves him. But, that wasn’t and isn’t a reason for me to be in the wrong relationship.

My life and my priorities are far more focused now than they were before I was diagnosed and before I became a mom. I no longer define myself or gauge my worth based on my relationships with men. And, I won’t devote energy to anything – personally or professionally – that doesn’t make me happy and send the right message to Roya.

Three years ago, we were in love, and Roya was conceived. I needed to be in a relationship with The Man so that I could meet her, the love of my life. There is nothing complicated about that.

stef woods, city girl blogs

Roya, Age 2

It Takes a Village

In a recent conversation with a friend, I explained to her that I had a creative approach to child care.

Friend: Of course, you do. It would surprise me if you did anything in a conventional way.

For the first year of Roya’s life, I didn’t know what my child care needs would be. How would I fare after a c-section? How much would I be teaching? Would Roya sleep well? How would unknown variables like teething, vaccines, colds, and growth spurts impact her routine?

I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. One month before Roya arrived, I posted an advertisement on Care.com. (I’m including the ad in its entirety since I’ve forwarded the text to six new mom friends. There’s no definitive guidebook for searching for child care!)

Looking for an experienced nanny or babysitter for a newborn girl approximately 20 hours a week in Foggy Bottom, starting in June. (I’ll be recouping from a c-section and need all the help I can get with bottle feeding and changing!)

Looking for a commitment at least through the summer for three days a week (exact days and hours can be flexible, if needed). CPR training and references required. Willingness to assist with baby’s laundry and light household chores a plus.

Apartment is within walking distance of the Metro. We have a small, very shy, hypoallergenic dog and request a non smoker. Hope to hear from you!

Within 72 hours, I had received 75 responses! I narrowed the field via email exchanges to my top seven applicants and interviewed them at Starbucks. All seven would have been good, but three stood out as potentially great. I decided to hire two students and then referred the third candidate to a neighbor. Our first nannies started the day after we arrived home from the hospital, caring for a tiny, five-day-old.

For the next year, the two nannies and I shared responsibilities. In that time, we all experienced a lot – individually, collectively, and as those closest to Roya. Somewhere along the way, we went from having a nanny/employer relationship to being family. (And, no, I’m not using that term lightly or loosely.) These two young women haven’t just enriched Roya’s life. They’ve enriched mine immeasurably.

Knowing that our first nannies wouldn’t be available after a year, I had planned to put Roya in day care. I quickly realized, though, that wasn’t the best fit for us. I also needed more help than I had the first year since I would be teaching more classes.

I posted another ad on Care.com, but saw that the majority of student nannies and babysitters were now using UrbanSitter.com. I revised the above posting to include taking Roya to age-appropriate activities for a young, active toddler.

I spent two weeks interviewing nannies and figured out a schedule that seemed to work for three students. That is, until the student who had committed to doing the most hours decided not to return to DC. The two remaining nannies pitched in so that I could get through the start of the semester and helped me find two other students to help.

It took some effort to coordinate the schedules of four nannies in the fall and two in the spring, but it was worth it. Our community has broadened in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. Roya has not only grown close with her caregivers, but also their family, sorority sisters, roommates and friends! In addition, each nanny has brought her own talents, interests and expressions into Roya’s life.

Over the past two years, we’ve had eight nannies, and we regularly see seven out of eight! When people asked me why I chose this arrangement, I’ve typically responded:

I can’t miss a class unless it’s an emergency. Having a broader network allows for back up and extra care during grading!

That’s true, but my job isn’t rocket science. And, full-time professional nannies don’t tend to miss work since there’s a contract involved.

In thinking about why I chose a unique child care arrangement, the following Hillary Clinton quote comes to mind:

It takes a village to raise a child.

Back when I set up this arrangement, I didn’t understand what I do now. I was building our village. I’m an only child without any relatives in the area. My village consisted of my parents and my nana. I lost my nana at age 10 and my mom at age 24. There is so much about life that we can’t control. But, I want my daughter to know that she is surrounded by love and not just from her immediate family.  Thankfully, because of our village, she does!

Flying and Falling

Recently, I spoke to students at Georgetown University’s OWN IT Summit about social media activism. I also held “Office Hours” for a smaller group during which we discussed everything from my curriculum to the law to sexuality studies to blogging. The last question of the day was:

How do you deal with having a daughter? I don’t want a daughter because I would be too scared of what would happen to her.

The timing of that question was fortuitous, as I have been thinking about my parenting style and fears. My reply to the student follows:

Since Roya was 15 months old, she has liked to go down the biggest slide in the playground…face first…with her legs in a herkie jump position. Any time I’ve tried to go down the slide with her, she emphatically tells me, “No, Mommy!” She wants to do it all by herself, as she smiles and laughs every inch of the way! I let her do it, but I make sure to run as fast as I can from the top of the slide to the bottom to spot her.

The playground we frequent is designed for children between the ages of two and five. Other parents have asked me how old Roya is or commented that she is a “daredevil,” and her moves “death-defying.” I just nod my head, and say that I don’t want to squash her spirit.

I’ve realized that this also needs to be my approach to parenting her off of the playground. I want to be an involved parent, but I don’t want to be a helicopter parent. I want her to feel free to take risks and try new things.

It’s tougher to conceptualize the downside of this, but unfortunately, there’s only so much that I can control. Think about it. We can let fear control our lives or we can live our lives. It’s a choice that we must make for ourselves, and if we are parents, for our children. Hovering over Roya won’t help her live her life, and it won’t allow me to live mine.

She will be wronged, and she will wrong others. She will fall, and she will fail. These are understandably difficult experiences for any parent to observe happen to their child. However, despite my best intentions, I can’t protect Roya from every bad thing that could possibly happen to her. So, I will continue to do whatever I can to spot her to the best of my ability.

I will let Roya fly, and I will comfort her when she falls. I’ll also remind her that I have soared high and fallen low. I’m thankful to have picked myself up and dusted myself off after my falls. I’ll keep picking her up and dusting her off until she can do that on her own.

FLY1

Quite a 5 Years!

A former student asked if he could use me as the subject for a mini-documentary for his film class. He managed to condense the past five years of my life into a video that’s under five minutes. I watched the final product with tears in my eyes, reflecting on all that’s transpired.

I’m thankful for being just where I’m meant to be. And, thank you to Max for this video!

Exhaling

When I found out that I needed to have a cyst removed from my right breast, I had an idea. Since I still have yet to finish my breast reconstruction, I wondered if I could get some or all of the next reconstructive surgery completed at the same time. One operation was better than two, right?

Despite my breast intentions, my doctor informed me that it wouldn’t be realistic to add any reconstruction onto the procedure. She offered to construct nipples for me, but said that we’d have to remove and redo them when I go for reconstruction. In addition, the best quality nipples involve a skin graft. My doctor didn’t think that I could start teaching six days after surgery, if we added nipples into the mix.

I was disappointed for a minute, but then realized that my doctor knows best. I wanted to feel as good as I could for the start of the semester. I couldn’t avoid another surgery after this one since there was more reconstruction to complete. And, if I just got the mass removed, my incision would be small and only on one side. (That was especially important since I wasn’t sure how well Roya would respond to me not being able to lift her for two weeks.) I decided to just focus on the procedure on the books for January 6th.

On the day of the surgery, I functioned like a well-oiled machine. This wasn’t my first time at the rodeo, after all. I drove myself to the hospital. I answered the nurses and doctors’ questions like I was in the speed round of a game show. I only shed a few tears and cursed twice when the three best people in the ER couldn’t find a good vein to start my IV.  I kept reminding myself that this would be over soon.

When I saw my surgeon before the procedure, I asked her, “So, everyone thinks this is benign, but we’re just doing this to be cautious, given my history, right?” My doctor nodded. Then, I  commented, “This is our 7th surgery together. I remember several times after you’d remove a mass, you would see me in recovery and say how confident you felt that everything was benign…that we’re just waiting for confirmation from pathology. That’s what I want to hear so I can exhale!” She agreed that’s what she wanted, too.

Ninety minutes later, I woke up in recovery. I felt sore, but not that bad. Shortly thereafter, my breast surgeon came to see me.

“Surgery went well. We should have results on Friday,” she said without much expression on her face.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” I replied.

“I’m not sure,” the doctor admitted. “I think it’s benign…I think it’s scar tissue…But, it was hard so I don’t know.”

We talked for a few more minutes before she went on to her next surgery. And, that’s when I finally cried…hard. I thought about Roya. I thought about my job. I thought about the fact that I didn’t want to be “It” again. I knew I would find the strength to go through treatment again, if I had to, but I didn’t want to be facing this possibility.

I allowed myself a few minutes to feel what I was experiencing, and then I dried my tears. I thought of those whose struggles were far greater than mine for some perspective. My mass was small, and as of now, its pathology was unknown. I didn’t have the time or the energy to spend the next three days sobbing. (It helped that the night before surgery I got assigned a new class to teach. I had six days to develop a syllabus from scratch.)

Two days later on Thursday, I was on the phone with the cable company, when my call waiting flashed. Surprisingly, it was my breast surgeon. I hung up on the cable company’s representative (sorry!) and took the call.

“It’s benign!” my surgeon exclaimed, as I started to cry happy tears. I could exhale. Cancer didn’t win this round.

So, what’s next? I’m doing a little more each week, and I should be fully recouped by early February. I’ll see my breast surgeon in six months for a follow up, and my reconstructive surgeon sometime in the next year or two for surgery. And, I continue to send thoughts and prayers to the many loved ones who are dealing with this insidious disease.

For those who sent me well wishes and prayers, thank you. xoxo

6th Blog Anniversary

In 6th grade, my English teacher tasked the students in my class with writing their own autobiographies. I couldn’t think of a title for mine and asked my mom for help. She didn’t need more than a second to respond:

Doing It Stef’s Way.

Yes, I marched to the beat of my own drum even as a child. When I started this blog six years ago with a post about whether or not I could date a much younger man, I didn’t know where this online path would lead.

I rarely blog anymore, and yet, I don’t see shutting this site down anytime soon. These are my words…my journey…my successes…and my mistakes. I’m proud of the good and the bad experiences in my life since they led me to where I am today.

A recent comment from a reader noted how much my life and blog have changed since my earlier posts. Yes, it’s true that I no longer write about my sex life and the guys who wronged me. But, if I had never dated the guys I did, I would have never met The Man and Roya wouldn’t be here. And, if I had never had such an eventful dating life, my professional path might have been very different, too.

When I started blogging, I wrote only for me. One year later, I had received enough sexual health and relationship questions from readers that I decided to join the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists as a supporting member. I began to blend more advice posts with my own dating tales and write about sexual health for two websites.

Several students at American University were regularly reading my blog, and I was invited to speak at the Social Learning Summit in 2011. That led to my idea to teach a class on Sexuality and Social Media on that campus. In 2014, after three years as an adjunct professor, American University offered me a full-time contract as an instructor.

In many ways, my life is so different than it was six years ago. 3am texts from whomever I was seeing at the time have been replaced by 3am feedings. My club attire and fancy dresses are in a closet, collecting dust. Date nights now happen at cocktail parties organized by the parents in Roya’s playgroup.

Even though my daily routine has changed profoundly, I’m still the same. I continue to march to the beat of my own drum. My blog tagline is “Educate, Advocate, Titillate.” As a professor, I focus on the first two words in that phrase. I still talk a lot about feminism, branding, sexuality, relationships, health, and double standards in the work force. My discussions just occur in the classroom, rather than on this site.

do_not_go_where_the-18175

Back when I blogged regularly, I didn’t write about my dating life in real time. I enjoyed crafting a story with the benefit of hindsight and doing things differently. As a teacher, I’m thankfully allowed the creativity to develop classes that find academic merit in popular culture. In three years, I’ve created the curriculum for seven courses from scratch. I proud of what I’ve accomplished and know how fortunate I am to love my job!

Shortly after I began blogging, I shared with my readers that I wanted to adopt a little girl. A few comments were highly critical of of that decision, stating that I wasn’t capable of being a mom and that I wouldn’t be able to prioritize motherhood in the midst of such an active social life. I didn’t know that my journey would lead me to have a biological daughter, rather than adopt. But, I knew then that I was ready to be a mom and how much my life would change. I was fully prepared to hang up my stilettos, and I have. I don’t have much of a social life or time to write for pleasure anymore, but that’s not atypical for moms of young toddlers.

Even as a mom, though, I’m still the same me. Roya is the most important and amazing thing in my life, but I know that she’s not perfect. I set boundaries, and I say, “No!” when I need to. I don’t coddle her when she isn’t hurt or sick. I don’t throw fancy parties for her or care if another child does something earlier or better than she does. And, I don’t feel guilty when I say that motherhood is both the best job and the most exhausting job there is.

When I started this blog six years ago, I didn’t know where the journey would lead me. I sit here today in front of my laptop with happy tears in my eyes. Because of my blog, I’m blessed to be where I am today — at American and with Roya. For those who have supported me along the way, thank you from the bottom of my heart. It warms my heart to know that the doors to my home in the blogosphere are always open. xoxo

87.5% Benign

True or False: If a woman has a double mastectomy, she can never get breast cancer.

False.

Despite what is often touted by celebrities in the media, undergoing a double mastectomy does not mean that a woman will not get breast cancer.

Think about it from a scientific perspective. Is there such a thing as zero risk, when dealing with the human body? Is anything a 100% guarantee?

Having a double mastectomy reduces the risk of recurrence for those who are in remission. If a woman elects to have the surgery preventively, she dramatically decreases her chances of developing breast cancer.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in my right breast, but not my left. Following treatment and a double mastectomy, my doctor estimated that I have a 12% chance of a recurrence in my right breast and a 5% chance of developing cancer in my left breast. A double mastectomy was the right choice for me, but nothing is foolproof.

Following a double mastectomy, my doctors informed me that I don’t need to get anymore mammograms. (Mammograms are a scan of breast tissue, and the double mastectomy removed my breast tissue, rendering the test unnecessary.) Instead, I get annual breast MRIs.

I scheduled my 2014 MRI for November. Much like last year, I noticed that I felt edgy – or some scanxiety — for a few days prior to the test.  I just wanted it over with and to receive the “All Clear” call from my doctor.

Following my MRI, I headed to the Sibley cafeteria. I ran into three women who work in the Center for Breast Health and ended up talking with them during their lunch break. As we discussed my health journey, one of them commented, “We’ve watched you grow up!” And, they have. I first saw the head of the breast center in 2000. To say that a lot has changed since then would be an understatement!

The day after my MRI, I received a call from my doctor. The scan showed a tiny 8mm area of concern in my right breast.  The right breast was the side in which I had cancer. The mass was also located in the chest wall. (A breast cancer recurrence can occur in either the chest wall or where there’s any residual breast tissue.) A biopsy was scheduled for the following week.

Before the biopsy. the doctor tried to locate the mass with an ultrasound. It took her quite a while to do that because the area of concern is that small. Once she located it, she took samples.

In the very good news column, the biopsy results came back benign.

In the not as good news column, that’s not the end of the story.

Since the mass is so tiny, the doctor recommended that I obtain another MRI. She wanted to confirm that the area of concern that lit up on the previous MRI was no longer evident.

In the somewhat good news column, the small area of concern on the first MRI was even smaller on the second MRI. But, from a clinical perspective, the second MRI was inconclusive. The thought is that the benign area that was biopsied was part of the area of concern. (That would explain why the area reduced in size between the two MRIs, but wasn’t eliminated.)

My team of doctors all believes that the mass is benign. When I asked just how confident they felt that this was benign, one doctor replied, “85-90%.” But, they want to be 100% sure. The only way to do that is to have the area of concern surgically removed.

Surgery is on the books for January 6th.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been a patient of Sibley’s Center for Breast Health for years now. I trust my medical team implicitly. When my doctors have been concerned that an area was malignant, they’ve told me. When they felt as though the odds were 50/50, they shared that with me. I know that this situation is no different. Although my Best of the Breast team of doctors doesn’t think this area is cancerous, they are approaching my case conservatively. (And, with my health history, that’s the right move.)

I’ve worked hard over the years to not give too much emotional energy to “What ifs?” This has been no exception. I shed a fair amount of tears for the first 24 hours after hearing the news, and then I let it go. There are so many people who are dealing with major known health issues and limitations. This is minor outpatient surgery for a diagnostic purpose. I’ve had several masses removed before. I typically leave the hospital feeling uncomfortable, but not in pain. If my biggest concern is trying to figure out how to deal with not being able to lift Roya for two weeks, I consider myself very lucky.

I’ll keep you abreast as always. xoxo

As a PS, I had to look up how big 8mm was. It’s interesting from a surgical perspective that 8mm is small. From a jeweler’s perspective, though, 8mm isn’t small at all!

How big is 8mm?