It started with a 'C'.. Cosmetic Surgery

My journey through breast cancer ( part 1)

As a young teen, I only wanted one thing.. not a car or a driver's license...breasts. Just as Molly Ringwald's character in "Sixteen Candles", I too waited for the day I'd wake up on my 16th birthday magically transformed. Alas, I was a petite stick figure feeling as hopeless as "Sam", the central character in the movie. Unfortunately, that feeling never ceased and it seemed that a shadow of awkwardness followed me into adulthood.

And follow me it did! Further into my 30s, I always felt incomplete and unattractive. Indeed, the feeling of not being enough played a huge role into many bad decisions that ultimately paved a way for destructive relationships. Yes, boobs (or the lack there of) ultimately led me to compromise my self-worth by devaluing what I had to bring into relationships. Instead of acknowledging other more important qualities of myself, I focused solely on over-compensating for what I thought was missing in me. The inadequacy had grown so deep that I hated disrobing in front of my husband. Hiding in a corner of my closet and facing away from the door, I would get dressed quickly so he wouldn't see me. An action that would later play an even bigger role in the downward spiral of our marriage.

Nevertheless, one afternoon I decided to make an appointment to see a plastic surgeon for a breast augmentation via fat-transfer. I researched, balanced the pros and cons , and made the appointment to follow through with the surgery. I was so excited! I FINALLY was going to have breasts that could fill a dress and not to mention a bra! I was grateful to have my husband's support as he accompanied me on surgery day. It was January of 2023 and I was looking forward to starting a new year with a new body. Yay me!

Waiting in the holding room in a patient gown and hospital socks, the nurses prepared me for surgery. "One question before we get started, do you have a copy of your latest mammogram?" asked the nurse. Thankfully, I always kept up with my annual exams and mammogram visits, so this was a simple answer. Little did I know, the following month was going to be anything BUT simple. As I began to read the email from my OBGYN, it seemed that I had to return to the imaging center. My scans were inconclusive and I needed further imaging. My breast augmentation surgery had to be canceled.

Now I am a patient person (others may not agree here), but waiting for a doctor's visit, when I know there may be a slight problem, is not a scenario where I exercise patience. Lucky for me the office was able to get me in for more scans in two weeks. So, on February 13, I walked into the imaging center ready to get this behind me and return to my real mission of getting the boobs I wanted. After all, I had been called back before for further tests before for a common reason - dense tissue. Painful, as any woman knows, I couldn't wait for the mammogram to be over. While still in my patient gown, the nurse had me wait in the lobby as the radiologist reviewed my test. It seemed like I had waited for hours when the nurse called me back. It turned out that I wasn't able to return to my boob mission quite yet. I had to return yet again for a contrast mammogram.

For those who may not know what a contrast mammogram is, it is the same as a regular mammogram except they inject an ink that illuminates the breast tissue while giving the radiologist more of a visual "contrast" of any masses present within the tissue. (photo to the right displays the difference from a regular mammogram 2D image to one with use of IV contrast) I was in good spirits that day and I made conversation with the nurses as they began to inject the contrast dye into my vain. "You are going to notice an unusual metallic taste for about a minute." What an awful taste, indeed. I had the mammogram completed (the third if you are counting) and I waited in the patient lobby once again. Praying and worrying, the nurse called me into a dark room examination room but with a different machine in the corner. She further explained, that the radiologist found a significant, although small, mass. She also found calcium deposits present around the mass which led to the next procedure - a sonogram and possible biopsy.

If I was nervous before, I was petrified now. A biopsy? I knew the word but had no idea what it meant for me. First thing first, the nurse proceeded with the sonogram and focused on one small area on my left breast. She repeated the same maneuver, in a circular motion, over and over. The longer she took, the more tears rolled down my eyes. What was happening? "I am fine" , I told myself. The sonogram took 15 to 20 minutes to complete. When she stepped out of the room to give the radiologist my scans, I had a moment of sheer fear and confusion. I prayed. The only thing I could do. After a few more minutes the radiologist came into the room and explained that a biopsy was necessary.

Now, if you have never had a biopsy, let me describe the icky and painful procedure. A local anesthetic is used to numb the area in question. Once it has taken effect, the nurse uses a small instrument that punctures a hole into the skin and simultaneously removes tissue samples of the mass for testing. Each time the sample was collected, a loud sound filled the room along with my cries of concern. It would be five to ten days before I would receive results.

On March 9, 2023 I received the call. The call that no woman (or man) ever wants to receive. The call I never expected. "Miryam, your biopsy revealed you have a small mass classified as DCIS Stage 0. We urge you to see our recommended oncologist surgeon and oncologist. This is highly curable."

I had pulled over into a Nordstrom Rack parking lot since I was driving. I sat in the car and sobbed. I had cancer. I. Had. Cancer. The 'C' word. In that moment, the words "this is highly curable" didn't register. So, in true Miryam-fashion, I walked into Nordstrom Rack and immediately saw a $200 handbag I had been eyeing for the past year and bought it. Life is too short. Buy the bag.

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On the following blog of this series, I will continue the journey of breast cancer and the various conversations in meeting with my team of doctors and an additional life event I was not expecting. Click here for part 2.