>>> PORTRAITS
Moira‘s story!
in my Christian Dior gown, along with the other 17 ladies seated there. I clearly remember thinking the ratio is 1:9, two of us are getting bad news today. I was right, two of us were singled out for Stereotactic Vacuum Assisted Core Biopsies, at the time I thought I must have something terribly serious, because I had bypassed all the other tests and had gone straight to the “Big Gun,” and a very Big Gun, it was too! Steph talked me through the whole procedure, and explained that this was the test required for this presentation. I was suspended off the floor, on that skinny table, attached to the machine by the paddles that clutched the offending breast. I saw each core as it was removed, on a screen, and when Steph showed me where they had placed the BC Ribbon shaped, Titanium Clip, I had an overwhelming rush of emotion for all those women, who had gone before me on this journey. Suddenly, it was all very real.
Years ago, I started to say, “That island’s looking good!” whenever things bugged me, or the city was feeling just, too busy, or I simply couldn’t find a parking spot.
I had 11 agonising days to wait for my results. The race that stops a nation, The Melbourne Cup, just happened to fall on the day I should have received the results, so I had to wait another long week, for the next clinic. The waiting was brutal.
2012 arrived, and I found myself longing for a change. The idea of the “Island” was no longer a pie in the sky idea, and my husband was on board too. As with anything we do, we threw ourselves into it, and started looking for the dream location, the one that would be our last move, and would really feed our souls in our retirement years. We had one very definite requirement, wherever we went, it must be flat, because Colin is a C5/6 Quadriplegic from a Hang Gliding accident 35 years ago. After a fairly exhausting, fruitless search, in some of the most divine coastal towns in Victoria, we took an unplanned side trip, to an Isthmus in Eastern Gippsland. As we drove down the long main road to the town, I joked about the name of this place. Paynesville, Paaaaaynesville, how could I live in a place named Paynesville? We reached the end of the road, and Lake Victoria stretched out in front of us, yachts bobbed on the glassy water, and to the left, there was an island. It took my breath away! Pelicans have always been positive, spiritual signposts for me, they were there too, gliding above us, and in groups in the water. I remember saying “I could live here!” Within a few weeks, we had started negotiating to buy the perfect house. I believe the house found us. It had been on the market for 2 years and was wheelchair friendly, with killer views! 26 | Amoena Life
The day we got the news that our offer had been accepted, we put our home on the market. What on earth were we thinking? We’d broken the cardinal rule of real estate. Fortunately, the house sold quickly, and the renovations began on the new place. Four stress filled months of driving 350km each way every couple of weeks, to oversee the work, and organising all the fixtures and fittings from that distance, we were on our way to a new chapter in our lives. By late September, everything had settled down, and most of the work was finished. We had met wonderful people, most, had had a similar experience, arriving here by accident too. It is a magic place that has a way of drawing likeminded people to it. I received a reminder in the mail for my routine mammogram. I called and got an appointment the very next day. I remember kidding around about how different it is here in the country. I’d be waiting for weeks in the city for an appointment. I chatted with the operator while she was doing my mammogram, even discovered that she had known my husband 30 years ago. When she said she needed more shots of my right side, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach. I had always been told I had tissue that they could see right through,
that it was easy to read. I put it down to the fact we’d been chatting, and she may not have got what she needed. Sunny days turned into weeks, and an unexpected phone call gave me that same strange sensation I had felt in my stomach on the day of my mammogram. It was someone from BreastScreen and I was being “Invited Back” for further investigation. They had seen something on my mammogram. I so wanted to say, “Thank you, but no, I can’t accept your invitation!” A week later, Colin and I were driving the 2 hours to Breast Screen in Traralgon. I was taken in and a nurse explained that I would have another mammogram to check the area that was a concern, then if they weren’t happy with that, I would have an Ultrasound, then maybe a Fine Needle Aspiration, and if they still weren’t happy, I would have a Stereotactic Vacuum Assisted Core Biopsy. The fear was beginning to really build, like a Roller Coaster Ride, that clackety-clack as it approaches the top of the rise. I met Steph, the Radiographer, she showed me what we were dealing with. It looked just like the Nike tick, or the Milky Way. Microcalcifications, was what they were called. I felt comfortable with Steph. I went back to the waiting room,
In my gut, I knew I wasn’t going to be in the 80% who would walk away from this unscathed. Finally, I got my results. The biopsy did indeed show DCIS, Intermediate, and High Grade. A lumpectomy with 6 weeks of radiation was indicated, and of course, until the final pathology is in, there are no promises that there wouldn’t be another surprise lurking in there. I found a sensational Surgeon, who asked me to make a decision about what “I” wanted to do. I wanted to avoid Radiation if at all possible, so I decided to have a Mastectomy, without reconstruction. I had another month to wait for the surgery, which took me up to a few days before Christmas. I spent the night before my surgery at a Motel near the Hospital. I was sure I had made the right decision for me, but I needed to disengage from my right breast. I know this seems very weird, and wouldn’t be for everyone, but I actually spoke to my breast, I said “You’ve let me down, you have to go!” It worked for me. I felt a sense of calm which stayed with me that night. Early next morning, I breezed through the Sentinel Node Tracer, even though I feared it even more than the surgery. I have no idea why, but people seem to get perverse
pleasure out of telling you horror stories about their bad experiences. I couldn’t wait to be able to go back to them and say “I had a great experience, with a wonderful operator, and it didn’t hurt a bit!” I spoke with my Surgeon just before I went in to theatre, and reminded him I wanted a really great, straight scar. I was feeling really confident now, I felt a slight sting in my hand, and the lights went out. The first face I saw when I woke up was my Surgeon, he was saying that he’d done what I asked, and the scar was so straight, he’d even checked it with a spirit level. In my anesthetic stupor I said, “Oh Wow, Really?” to which he replied, with a laugh “No!”. I stayed awake all night, walking the halls, chatting, and drinking tea with the Nurses, I didn’t need any pain meds, then, or in the days that followed. I felt wonderful. First thing next morning, my Surgeon was back to see me. He removed the bandages, said I looked great, and to go home. I had been there for 16 hours. I went home with a drain still attached, and prepared for Christmas in a few days. My Daughter arrived, and stayed for 10 wonderful days. The roles were reversed for the first time, ever. We laughed, reminisced, and created great new memories. She wouldn’t let me do a thing, and I really enjoyed it. I had the wonderful District Nurses coming to see me daily, my drain came out in 6 days, and the dressings and steri-strips were removed after 10 days. I couldn’t believe how good I felt, but I had a fear of infection. My Mother had been diagnosed with Breast cancer in ’94, just 4 months after my Dad passed away. She had a Radical Mastectomy, and almost died from a massive infection. I didn’t realise at the time, just how brave she’d been. She was a great role model for me, and I am sure her grace and dignity, not to mention her wicked sense of humour, were what made non reconstruction right for me too. I read a beautiful line on a BC Forum that spoke to me, “I remember my Mother’s smile, like the curve of her scar!” When I saw the beginning of an infection starting I was back to see my Surgeon. I had a Seroma, a hematoma, a stitch that hadn’t dissolved, and Mondors Disease. Who’d have thought! I still felt great, but I ended up on my back, with my surgeon holding a big syringe, and a scalpel. Just a hiccup, it was all good, and
so was the pathology report which had just arrived that morning. I was straining over every word, all foreign terms. Pure DCIS, Intermediate and High Grade, No Evidence of Invasive Ductal Carcinoma! He said, “because of your decision to have the mastectomy, you are effectively cured. It was all removed. There is no more treatment required!” I felt the Roller Coaster teeter at the top, and then the rush, as it dropped to the bottom. I am one of the many, many women who are receiving this diagnosis of DCIS, a very controversial form of Breast Cancer to some, and Pre Cancer to others. New Digital Mammography machines are finding this much earlier than perhaps it could have been in the past. Some believe that it is being over treated. For me, I have not a single regret, and if there was a hint of it in my remaining good breast, I’d remove that too, in a heartbeat. I am now 4 months out from my surgery. I have been extremely fortunate, both in diagnosis, and recuperation. Am I the same woman that went into this? No way! I have changed, and I have felt a shift. Things look and feel different, in a good way. I don’t know if it is from feeling that fear, and then getting somewhat of a reprieve. I started to investigate everything available to me in lingerie, prosthesis, and clothing. The one name that kept coming up was Amoena. A week after my surgery I went to my local Amoena retailer to be fitted for a prosthesis and some bras. The girls were wonderful, asking if I was going to have a mastectomy, when I said I had already had it a week ago they were amazed, but sent me home, and told me I couldn’t be fitted for another 5 weeks, at least. I managed to make do with some softies. I went for my fitting 6 weeks to the day, after my surgery, I got my prosthesis, a couple of great bras, and my absolute favourite item, the Valletta Camisole. This Camisole is a brilliant item, I wore it to my first BC group meeting, imagine how thrilled I was when one of the women asked why I hadn’t had my surgery yet. It looked that good! My Amoena collection is constantly growing, I have many Valletta camisoles, and several prosthesis, including a swim form, and swimsuit. I am back, watching the seasons change in my favourite place. I feel really confident, and comfortable with my new “Normal”! Amoena Life | 27