A Year Lost, A Life Gained: Fighting Breast Cancer With Wit, Humor, Friends and a Perky Poodle

By Suzanne Dalton

Suzanne Dalton has accomplished much in her life—she is an artist, writer, actor, graphic designer, and program manager. The one undertaking for which she did not sign up was breast cancer. In her new memoir, humor guides Suzanne through difficult decisions about treatments, surgeries, and reconstruction. Her story, told through witty letters to friends, includes a party before surgery, a zany poodle, and refusal to let cancer define her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999877814

Book preview

2018

The Discovery

CHAPTER 1

The Big Slice

APRIL 30, 2001, SUNDAY NIGHT, 12:12 A.M.

HMMM, WELL THIS HAS BEEN an alarming week…

After a mammogram and then a spot mammogram, the radiologist found an abnormality. Now I am scheduled for biopsy surgery this coming Tuesday, slicing and dicing. The abnormality is too big an area and yet too microscopic to do a simple needle core biopsy so they are going to cut it out. It is rather large. Scary especially since I am so small.

On Friday Clyde and I met with the surgeon, Dr. Natalie, a wonderful woman whom I bombarded with questions, excuses, pleadings, but she argued a good case on why she wants to do the big slice instead of the needle biopsy. It will be done at the local hospital. Turns out the abnormality is indicative of a pre-cancer condition, so regardless, she does not want to leave it in. She warned that I am going to be bruised and hurting for a week. All stitches will be internal, which takes six weeks to heal. While she is in there, she plans to do reconstructive repair work. I just hope I am functioning sufficiently to drive down to Traverse City for my vocal lesson two days after. Work always makes me feel better. I hate to just sit around feeling sorry for myself. If I can find something else to concentrate on, pain does not hurt so much. Let me tell you I have to concentrate when singing intervals, minor second and half step between notes, who knew! Acting is so much easier than singing sometimes; heck, many times.

With my luck, I am preparing for the worst, that C word. I have a very funny style I want to do with my hair before chemo when it will all fall out. Oh, what the hell, I have to get a little fun out of this. I refuse to get too down. Not good for one’s disposition, you know. Just imagine how easily I could audition for Peter Pan!

Wish me luck. May I only have to cope with a sore chest and an excuse not to pull weeds for a week.

Yours huggin’ her poodle,

Suzanne & Cassis (We had a great time at an obedience seminar yesterday, but I’m a tired puppy today! Arf!)

Note, 2018:

Living in a small rural community after the big city, I quickly got used to a barter economy—trading one’s talent or skills, which opened up a whole new world for me, like bartering singing lessons for building out a website for the vocal teacher’s wife, a touring opera singer.

CHAPTER 2

Biopsy

MAY 1, 2001 TUESDAY NIGHT, 12:12 A.M.

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN , jiggity jig. Since they knocked me out I am still somewhat fuzzy on the details the doctor told me after the biopsy today. Essentially, the mass of microcalcifications is more extensive than she estimated; therefore, the scar and amount taken out are larger than expected. I have a hokey tube-top pressure bandage on, which totally cracks me up with its little orange and brown flower design. Clyde said it is a Britney Spears top. Oh cringe, but let’s go with it. So I whipped out an amber earring and necklace combo to accessorize this little number. I threw on contrasting blue silk pants and don’t I look just too cute. Come on, I said I have to have fun with this.

The surgeon needed to know the exact location of the mass, which could not be detected by palpating. Therefore, the radiologist used another mammogram as a guide to insert a wire/needle to pinpoint the exact location. Although the mammogram identified the mass in the lower part of my breast, it felt like a red-hot needle in the top. Go figure. I will spare you the description; since the local anesthetic didn’t work, they ended up giving me a lovely painkiller to make it all bearable. Prescribed drugs can be such a good thing when one is trying not to publicly moan in pain.

I am nervous as hell about taking the bandage off this Thursday and seeing the scar. Thank goodness the hollow spot is on the bottom, five-o’clock position so I can still wear a pushup/shove-up bra to compensate for the void. Regardless, this option is definitely better than death! Results are due on Friday.

I have been reading more about the microcalcifications, and the biopsy really was the only way to go. I hope the surgeon got it all out, but Friday will tell. Meanwhile, I am bruising like crazy, sore as all heck, and taking Vicodin, which makes me loopy but is not helping much with the pain.

The most wonderful wrap-up after this crazy surgery day is sitting with Clyde on the deck this evening in awe of the sight of literally thousands of daffodils, tulips, and other spring flowers blooming like crazy. We were making marvelous memories. Wish us luck.

Yours with a puppy on the bed,

Suzanne & Cassis (I’m taking care of her too!)

CHAPTER 3

The Result

MAY 4, 2001, FRIDAY, 10:22 P.M.

WELL, MY DEARS , I AM AFRAID I have rather bad news. Turns out I have breast cancer, that rather annoying invasive kind. The good thing is they seem to have caught it early, or so we hope. Lymph gland biopsy needs to be done ASAP to tell for sure.

The other annoying factor is that the large breast biopsy they did (everything is relative; for small-breasted me, it was a huge amount of tissue), did not show healthy margins. Therefore they need to go in and take more. Seems to me there will not be that much left. I say take out all the tissue and we will reconstruct. The surgeon is not comfortable with this scenario. I do not think she’s done that many; in any case, it’s not her specialty. I like this woman, respect her, but I need to look around and will be getting second opinions over the next couple of weeks.

We do know I will need at least radiation treatment, hopefully not chemo, but the subsequent biopsy will tell. Gee, I either get leather skin or my hair will fall out. Oh, what fun! I am definitely okay with those options since it is better than the alternative.

Clyde is home with me now. My good buddy Rita went with me to hear the test results since Clyde was still down in Detroit finishing up the college year-end reviews of his department’s students. I just loved getting a phone call at 10 a.m. asking me to be in the surgeon’s office with my husband by noon to hear the test results. Dense I am not. This was going to be bad news.

Anyway, the next couple of weeks are going to be another adventure in living. I am hoping I do not run into too many roadblocks and can find a surgeon and team I can trust. I am trying to keep my mental state up and using my weird sense of the absurd to do that, so just play along with my gallows humor. Hey, if I can’t laugh what the hell else am I going to do? Wish us luck and send good vibes.

Yours with a poodle at her feet,

Suzanne & Cassis (and a Clyde on the couch!)

CHAPTER 4

The Next Step

MAY 10, 2001, WEDNESDAY NIGHT, 12:18 A.M.

WE ARE LEAVING TOMORROW afternoon for Traverse City to see another surgeon for a second opinion and then will go directly to Detroit for a third opinion. Friday morning at 7:30 a.m. we have an appointment at a major hospital with their entire Breast Care team—surgeon, oncologist, hematology/oncologist, and nurse practitioner. I heard excellent things about this hospital so we are going since it would take over two weeks to get into the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor.

The big decision is WHO will do the next surgery and how will they do the lymph node biopsy, THEN how to obtain clear margins on the remaining cancer that was left in my breast. I will probably have to decide by Friday afternoon what in the hell to do. Damn, I was complaining to Clyde that this was taking too long and now it is all happening too fast.

I was on the Internet last night doing loads of research. The current trend is to treat Stage I and II breast cancer aggressively with both radiation AND chemotherapy. The pathology report says I have Stage II. Well, this way I get both leather skin AND no hair. What’s a girl to do?

Yours readin’, weedin’, weepin’ and jokin’,

Suzanne & Cassis (I’m going with her!)

Note, 2018:

There are other factors that go into the decision on treatment besides the stage of the cancer, including the size of the tumor, how aggressive the growth of the tumor is, etc. One of the first things people usual ask me upon learning I had cancer is, What stage did you have? Just giving a roman numeral does not tell the story. All cancer cases are different. I had to learn during that period not to compare myself to anyone else’s cancer diagnosis; there are just too many factors involved.

CHAPTER 5

The Decision

MAY 13, 2001, SUNDAY, 2:07 P.M.

IT IS SPRINGTIME HERE in the north country. We have thousands of tulips and daffodils blooming and I feel so lucky to be alive.

The second opinion from a surgeon down in Traverse City not only concurred with my first surgeon but strongly suggested I let her do the work, perform yet another resection trying to get clean margins. Basically, go back in and try to cut out more tissue until they have just healthy stuff. He was quite diplomatic and said the surgeon had done a good job. The current thinking is conservation—save as much of the breast as possible. Nevertheless, my argument is … good Lord, you’ve already taken out so much, lots must come out … what’s going to be left? If conservation is the idea, will they get clear margins? I bet not and they will have to go in again and again! Moreover, I would still have to do radiation treatments.

So on we drove to a major hospital in Detroit, one of the tops in the area. Clyde said he knew these were the specialists when we entered the department and saw a huge sign with brass script letters, announcing Breast Care Center.

A surgeon, a medical oncologist (chemo), and a radiation oncologist reviewed my X-rays for the last three years and the accompanying pathology report. Then they had their radiologist reread the X-ray and their pathologist look over the biopsy slides again to see if there had been any inaccuracies in the diagnosis. They were not going to measure once and cut twice.

Their strong recommendation was for a mastectomy and a lymph node dissection. Since the initial biopsy was huge in size, close to one-third of the breast, going back in again and again would just be tantamount to a piecemeal mastectomy.

There was plenty of positive news (okay, since I have cancer I just have to address it and if you have to have it this is the good stuff).

All the surgeons were ecstatic about the small size of the tumor. They thought the radiologist was incredibly astute to detect it. If I had been big-breasted he would not have been able to find it. More good news is that the tumor is an intermediate growing tumor and therefore it very probably has not gotten to my lymph nodes yet. Another bit of great news—I have positive hormone receptors, meaning I can have hormone therapy that will actually prevent (greatly reduce my chance of) any future cancer. The drug is tamoxifen and I will have to be on it for five years. Supposedly it has few side effects.

Soooooo…

I have decided to have the mastectomy (which was my gut feeling when I first heard the surgeon’s initial prognosis) and they will do reconstructive surgery at the same time. I know it sounds strange to say I am relieved, but I am now informed and know I have choices and options, and I think this is a good one. No, it is the best one.

The downside is that the surgery is at least three weeks off! It takes almost two weeks to get in to see a plastic surgeon for a consult and then another week or so to schedule the surgery with both the breast surgeon and plastic surgeon. The breast surgeon will do her job, the mastectomy, removal of all breast tissue and the nipple, and then the plastic surgeon comes in right after her to do the repair work. The big question is whether the cancer has traveled to my lymph nodes, so a dissection is performed during the surgery. It takes three days to get the pathology report, which everyone thinks will probably be negative; well, eighty-five to ninety percent sure.

The other great thing is that if the lymph nodes are negative…no chemo and no radiation! I get to keep my hair and no damaged skin! And no being sick for months.

I felt so good after agreeing with their course of action and getting things in the works that I ate the biggest lunch I have eaten in weeks. Let me tell you, I totally pigged out. If I am stressed I can barely eat. I did not realize what tension I have been under lately. Therefore, if I had to get cancer, and Lord only knows why it happened, things are looking very good for the long term, providing the lymph nodes are negative.

Clyde has been great. He has not left my side since we got the initial diagnosis over a week ago. He has gone to all the consultations, educated himself, asked great questions, and taken informative notes. I am handling this pretty well, I think, and have just gotten weepy a few times (I swear that’s a medical term), but Clyde has been incredibly supportive. However, I think he will need some support next month after the surgery. That is what friends are for!

Just wanted to update you, let you know what is going on. We figure June will be totally nuts with surgery, recovery,