Who Gets Breast Cancer In Their Armpit?

it's been about a year since i last did an entry here. I doubt anyone is reading this, and that's okay, because this really is my therapy.

17 years ago i was told that i had breast cancer. and since this is October and Breast Cancer Awareness Month, i thought i'd share the journey that led up to my treatment for BC.

about a year before i was diagnosed i found a huge lump in my right armpit. i had my husband feel it and he agreed with me that it was a lump and that i should get it looked at.  

i foolishly delayed having it looked at for over a year.  Why? I mean, i had other lumps in my breasts looked at, mammogrammed, biopsies etc, so why not this? i stupidly thought, WHO GETS BREAST CANCER IN THEIR ARMPIT??? how dumb is that?

The only reason i finally went to the doctor was because of a tiny lump in my right breast, along with another lump in the same breast.  not because of the giant lump in my armpit.

I was scheduled for a mammogram the next day.  After the mammogram, i waited to make sure the films turned out ok. The tech came back in and said they wanted to do an Ultrasound.  I didn't ask why, because WHO GETS BREAST CANCER IN THEIR ARMPIT??? how dumb is that?

The info was sent to my docs office. He told me that he recommended that i see a surgeon. blunt. see a surgeon. 

I met with the surgeon.  i scheduled an appointment to get the biopsy done. That was a quick in and out at the hospital (it was surgical excision).  Easy enough, right? right!

I was scheduled to see the surgeon May 8th, 2002.  i remember the date like it was yesterday.  i sat on a table while the doctor examined me and i remember thinking that it was hot in the office and i was hoping the doctor wasn't repulsed by my boob sweat. 

Then came the results... Mrs T, the biopsy (of the smallest lump, not the medium one, or the giant one in my armpit) show that you have breast cancer.  After that, i just looked at the floor and tried to stop the tears that were forming in my eyes. i cried and cried and cried. and cried some more. On the 30 minute drive home, i cried some more. i don't think i've ever cried that much. 

breaking the news to my husband was difficult. in the end, i could only hand him the pamphlets the surgeon gave me. my daughter was only 9 at the time, so we chose to wait to tell her. To this day, she says all she knew at that time was that i lost my hair and i wore a jacket in the summer to cover the drains from the partial mastectomy. Nothing else. i never got sick, never missed work. but that's story for another blog.