THE GIFT Like most women, I know the importance of breast cancer screening. For each birthday I give myself a little “gift”, my annual mammogram. In 2007, my “gift” came with a pink bow - I had breast cancer.
I’ve been a nurse at Saint Alphonsus for eight years, mostly with the inpatient Behavioral Health Unit. Lately I’ve spent more time in meetings than using my nursing skills. Through my work with the Nurse Council, on Magnet and other projects, I have come to know nurses all over the hospital. Those relationships would prove invaluable with the arrival of my cancer.
I had no cause for concern about my mammogram and the procedure was routine; then I got “the call-back”. There was an abnormality in one breast, so a biopsy was performed a few days later. Waiting on the biopsy results made for a horrible weekend.
Most mammogram abnormalities are not cancer, and at first I was sure this was nothing. I felt some fear, but mostly felt irritated about the inconvenience of it all. After the procedure my outlook changed. I started to tell myself it may be cancer. Ultimately, I became so convinced I even practiced my response to the doctor when he told me.
I was in the kitchen that afternoon - the first day of school - and the kids weren’t home yet. The call came from our long-time family doctor, Mark Johnson, MD. I sensed he didn’t want to deliver the news over the phone, but because he was the one calling the situation was transparent, so he told me.
THE RIDE BEGINS
As I listened to the diagnosis a rush of fear came over me, like riding a roller coaster over the edge, free-falling downhill with no bottom in sight - no chance to catch my breath. This ride would continue for some time. Feeling helpless I turned to my husband, family, friends and the nurses I work with.
My husband, Dave, is also a nurse at Saint Alphonsus. He recommended the surgeon, Renee Bouquard, MD. Once I met Dr. Bouquard I knew I was in the best possible hands. Her genuine concern made me feel safe.
My type of cancer would likely find its way to my other breast and I didn’t want to go through this again. With Dr. Bouquard’s support, I elected to have a double mastectomy; a decision I’ve never regretted.
My friend Priscilla, a nurse from Saint Alphonsus Inpatient Oncology, recommended oncologist/hematologist Stephanie Hodson, MD. I liked Dr. Hodson immediately. She is spirited and full of life, and a breast cancer specialist. I felt she understood my decision for a double mastectomy.
ALONG FOR THE RIDE
During the two weeks prior to my surgery, I turned to close friends and family for support. My friend Deb was especially helpful. She’s a co-worker in the Psych Center and a five-year Breast Cancer Survivor. Friends even threw me a party; a reminder I wasn’t alone on this ride.
Barbara, a nurse from Postoperative Recovery, was there as I woke after surgery. It was her day off, but my friend insisted on being there for me. I noticed I was wearing a beautiful flowered binder, not the ace bandages I was wrapped in before. Later I learned that Eric, one of the surgical nurses, searched high and low for “something special” for me to wear.
My three days in the Surgical Unit were filled with flowers and visitors, many of whom were the nurses I’d come to know. Although I was still on a frightening ride, the nurses at Saint Alphonsus continually made me feel safe and loved; the night shift staff were like angles looking over me. I’ve never felt so cared for.
My wild ride took me to chemotherapy. There I met some quiet heroes: the nurses in the Cancer Care Center. Lindsay is my usual nurse, though for one chemo treatment, she unexpectedly had another nurse care for me. Lindsay told me later, she felt I was becoming too dependent on her. I told her she sounded like a psych nurse, and she laughed. But she was right; Lindsay and all the Cancer Care staff are my safety belt. I’m truly dependant on them to get through this ride.
In between treatments, my own Behavioral Health staff care for me. They call, bring food and sit with me while I’m sick. Together we laugh at my bald head and admire my new wigs: little parties to help the time pass.
The psychiatrists at Behavioral Health have helped me professionally and personally. Dr. Negron gave me the gift of hope, and precious advice on speaking to my children about “my illness” – using their language. Dr. Estess seems to read my mind with his timely calls: delivering jokes and offering constant support. I’m never alone on this ride.
TIME TO FLY
Springtime brings new growth; this spring my hair is growing back. I’ve returned to work and my nurses and I are forming a team for the upcoming Race for the Cure. My coaster ride has stopped.
I can stand on my own again, though I’m not the same person. Physically I’ve changed. I’ve also been changed personally by the care and love that came with my “gift” of cancer. I am in awe of those people in my life, notably the nurses at Saint Alphonsus. Yes, I still view my cancer as a gift. For without it, I may never have discovered the treasure we have in our midst, the staff and nurses of Saint Alphonsus.
The staff at Behavioral Health made me a quilt out of construction paper – 4 inch squares glued together. The quilt hung over my bed throughout chemo and recovery. On one square was written, “Baby birds stood on the edge of a cliff and looked over. They turned to their mother and said, ‘We are afraid we will fall.’ The mother said, ‘You have to trust.’ And they did, and they flew.”
I looked over the edge, I trusted, and I’m surviving.
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