So, several months ago, I was having Occupational Therapy for Lymphedema, when my therapist, David Wilson, gave me a book to read while the massaging machine was doing its thing. He said the book was written by a doctor that his wife, Courtney Wilson studied under, while becoming a Licensed Nurse Practitioner. David had told me it involved alternative methods of medicine. I decided I would read it with an open mind and what I discovered was that I was hooked, interested, and motivated. The book is called "The Vital Plan" by Dr. William C. Rawls, Jr.
Now, I'm not going to quote the whole book. You can buy it on these websites: https://vitalplan.com/vital-concepts or https://vitalplan.com/product/vital-plan-book
When I was given the book to browse through, I was and am at a point in my life to be inspired to take the journey of my path to wellness. I must warn you, though, my sense of humor is kind of "sick", a lot sarcastic, and sometimes off-color. You've been warned.
So let me start from the beginning. On April 27, 2009, my life, and my family's lives, would change forever. I was diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer, not by one, but by three doctors in the same day. I am so grateful they had the knowledge about it. If you don't know what Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) is, let me tell you. It is opposite everything you've been taught about Breast Cancer. First, there are physical symptoms. Mine were a purplish rash (looked like a possible bug bite), swollen, hot breast, inverted nipple, a "dimple" where the skin was pulling, and pain. I also had a pretty large lump. Having had a long history of fibrocystic breast issues, it was something I wasn't worried about. I would have painful cysts in my breasts that were related to hormonal changes before I had a hysterectomy in 1998, and more recently due to my caffeine intake (which is quite high). This was just something that popped up suddenly. I gave it a week or two, figuring it would just diminish on its own. On Friday night, my then 26 year old daughter, came into the bathroom as I was changing (to go to Relay for Life for the first time--my mother had died 6 months earlier of lung cancer). She said, "Mom, what the hell is wrong with your boob?" I said it was just one of those cysts. She asked me when I was going to the doctor. I told her I would call Monday, which I did.
Now I have a wonderful and funny relationship with my OB/GYN. We tease and we're kind of sick with each other. I called Monday morning and got right in. I got ready, laid on the table and waited for him to come in. Of course, when he opened the door, he was saying something "smart" to one of the nurses about getting some kind of lube that my husband would enjoy. But, what was always a comforting, smiling reaction I was used to, changed immediately. He walked over, took one look at my breast, grabbed my hand and pulled me up to a sitting position. He said, "Get dressed and come into my office. You need to see a surgeon right away to make sure this isn't cancer."
I was always petrified-no matter what doctor I went to-that I was going to have cancer. But, apparently not quite as petrified as I should have been. I smoke, you see.
I went into his office. He called across the street and got me into a surgeon in an hour. It was weird. I was not at all afraid of having cancer. I thought that the surgeon would aspirate the cyst and I would be on my way. I called my husband and told him what was going on. He was very hesitant and said he was coming. I don't know what I was thinking, but I told him that he didn't have to because I was sure it was just a cyst. Well, he came, thank goodness. The surgeon took one look at me--didn't touch it or anything. He said, "This is what I think it is. I think it is Inflammatory Breast Cancer. It is a VERY aggressive cancer and has probably already metastasized. It's probably already Stage III or IV. You have a 25% chance of survival."
What? He then proceeded to tell us that I needed to go to the radiologist (right away) and that I would need a biopsy (he could do it tomorrow). I said that we were going to RI for vacation on Friday. It was Monday. My husband interjected and said that we weren't going now. The doctor said that it was important that we do go and that the results would take a week. Okay. I was still really in denial. We went to the radiologist. I had a mammogram. Nothing showed. See? I knew it was just a cyst. Then, the doctor did an ultrasound. He explained, as he was running the thingy over my very sore breast, that IBC doesn't usually show on mammograms and it isn't in lumps, it forms in sheets. Mine was 13 x 17 CENTIMETERS! He said, "This is what I think it is. I think it is Inflammatory Breast Cancer. You have a 25% chance of survival. It is probably Stage III or IV. I'll call (the surgeon) and set up a biopsy for tomorrow.
This is when I lost it. I said that I just lost my mother, I wasn't in any condition to deal with this and I broke down. My husband rubbed my leg, but looked like a deer in headlights.
And that's where I'm going to leave you, just for now. You've hopped on to my journey as it begins. My Vital Plan wasn't even a twinkle in my eye yet, but it was in the making. Hang on. We're going to do this together.
Until next time...
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