Breast Cancer Awareness - Part 3

What do breast surgeons want?

In my opinion, they want their patients to live long lives, and they will do whatever it takes to reach that goal. Sometimes, however, to a frightened woman, a breast surgeon might seem scarier than breast cancer itself!

At my first visit to the breast surgeon's office I couldn't help but notice the other women in the crowded waiting room. I wondered what their stories were. A few women wore hats or scarves completely over their heads -- a sure sign that chemotherapy had taken its toll on their tresses. My heart went out to them and my stomach turned. This was life and death we were talking about here!

When breast surgeon (I'll call him Doc B) came into my room, he wasted no time by saying "you owe the doctor that tested you for the BRCA gene a good bottle of wine. He saved your life." I was taken aback by his bluntness, but the message certainly resonated. As he examined me (you know what that feels like, ladies) he talked about all of my options. I could take preventative drugs such as Tamoxifen, have constant monitoring through mammograms and MRIs, or...

Doc B took his finger and drew an imaginary line from my nipple across the side of my breast. He said, "the incision would go from here to here. We will save your skin, possibly the nipple, and take out all of the breast tissue. You'll be a little smaller -- perhaps a B or C cup -- and a plastic surgeon will replace your tissue with fat from your stomach. So you'll get a tummy tuck and you'll be perkier." He smiled.

He made it sound so easy. And what woman who has had babies and c-sections wouldn't jump at the chance to have a tummy tuck! I have also been a DD cup for so many years, that the thought of smaller, more manageable breasts (and less backaches!) was alluring. But what Doc B really wanted to do was give me a bilateral (both breasts) mastectomy with immediate reconstruction.

We are talking some serious, major, kick-ass surgery, here! Ummmm. A little voice inside of me was saying, "Help MEEEEEEE!"

But first, Doc B would have to send me for an MRI to make sure there was no cancer already present. If my MRI was clear, I could be scheduled right away for the surgery. If there was any cancer present, then it would be a whole new ballgame -- chemotherapy first, yada yada yada. A much more involved process.

Doc B was a true salesman. "I have a whole waiting room full of very sick women who would jump to be in your shoes," he said. "In the eighteen years since I have been doing this procedure on BRCA patients, no one has ever gotten breast cancer."

The next step then was to have an MRI and meet with the plastic surgeon Doc B recommended to "reconstruct" me. Again, I was numb, I was scared, I was even slightly terrified. But the seed of survival had been planted. I couldn't ignore the facts. The surgery seemed like the right thing to do.

I would have an MRI and meet with the plastic surgeon. I would come back to Doc B in a week to further discuss the surgery. Deep down I knew there was no turning back.