Tag: Metastasis

Year 8 Mammogram: Can’t Shake This Feeling

(Title image: Photo by 🐣 Luca Iaconelli 🦊 on Unsplash)

A couple of weeks ago, I had my 8-year 3-D mammogram. To be clear, this is eight years following the original diagnostic 2-D mammogram and ultrasound that identified my breast cancer tumor.

This far down the road, the situation seems much less dire. The mammogram takes place shortly after one of my visits to the oncologist, who does a manual breast exam. So if anything should show up on the 3-D mammogram, it would still be quite early stage.

And at this point in my life, my greatest fear is not something showing up on a mammogram, it’s something showing up on another scan elsewhere in my body, because that would mean metastasis.

I’m busy, busy, busy. Too busy to worry, right? RIGHT?
(Photo by Dan Freeman on Unsplash)

But that was not the case this year. I was preoccupied with other concerns including a car purchase, the upcoming practicum for my yoga4cancer training and an NIH grant renewal for the lab I work in. The main thing that I was thinking of regarding the mammogram was how badly my ribs might hurt as I was pulled closer into the scanner and smushed up against the machine.

And also, how sleep deprived my husband and I would be since we had an early morning appointment. Following which I needed to get to the office, while catching a webinar on the way. Lots of stuff to juggle.

So that’s the mindset with which I arrived at the imaging center. And that’s what was going through my head as I made small-talk with the friendly technician and went through the scanning process.

But then she left the room to bring the scans to the attending radiologist’s attention. Note: at our imagining center, if you are a cancer survivor, the radiologist reads your scans while you’re in the imaging room so that you don’t have to wait for results via phone call, through an online notification or—even worse—via the mail. You get them then and there.

Before the tech left she offered me use of the bathroom. I didn’t need it, but I realized that while waiting for the results I needed to keep my mind busy. Off to the bathroom I went, feeling into my feet as I walked like a good little mindful girl.

My big burning ball of cancer experience has quite a long memory tail!
(Photo by Jacob Dyer on Unsplash)

So again, it’s been eight years. I’ve had quite a few mammograms and other scans in that time. I’ve gotten a lot better about dealing with them and I certainly don’t experience severe “scanxiety” with mammograms.

But when I was done with the bathroom and sat back down in the imagining room with the monolithic mammography machine quietly staring back at me, I wanted to be done with it. I wanted to be dressing and leaving and on my way to the next thing.

Again, it’s been eight years, but I had to grab my phone and distract myself with work emails so that I wouldn’t think about anything else.

EIGHT YEARS, people! Cancer is like a fiery comet with a long tail that is visible for years after the thing itself passes.

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Oh! I got a clean bill of health. Good to go for another year!

“It’s Not a Toomah”: My Aura Theory

(Title image: Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash)

I’ve written in my blog that I was experiencing strange visual disturbances, most likely visual migraine auras. Note: I’ve never experienced migraine pain.

This is particularly worrisome for me as a survivor of triple-positive breast cancer, as there is a greater chance of that type of cancer metastasizing to the brain. Presumably, a growing tumor could restrict blood flow to areas of the brain that could result in me seeing strange things.

This was of great concern to my ophthalmologist. However, there was no pain associated with the auras, and pain would have been expected (but not necessarily required) if the auras were caused by a tumor.

There were other confounding variables, too. Since the summer of 2024, shortly before my father’s death, I had noticed that I was doing a lot of involuntary “sighing”. I’d experienced this type of sighing before, but this time it kept going for months, sometimes occurring a number of times an hour.

Naturally I googled it, and Dr. Google pointed out that excessive sighing was potentially associated with undiagnosed anxiety and depression. When I finally started writing out all my stressors, it because obvious to me that I had been far more deeply affected by what was going on in my life than I imagined.

So, after my appointments on Nov 22, I took time to grieve my father’s death, which I hadn’t done up to then. I thought I had accepted his passing and moved on, but clearly I hadn’t. I sought hugs and solace from family members and expressed what I was feeling.

My last aura was on Nov 29th. After that, along with allowing space for grief, I expanded my time in meditation, added up to an hour of breathwork a day and even included a daily cup of ceremonial-grade cacao (for the theobromine).

Mindfulness took a front seat. I paused at various points of the day to simply take deep breaths. I paid attention to what my body was doing and what thoughts were running through my mind. I made a concerted effort to show compassion to myself, more than I had in a long time.

The auras did not come back. As of this writing, it has been 45 days since the last aura. I had been having them once a week, and at their worst, a couple a week and even two on one evening.

I am well aware of the power of the mind. My educational background is in graduate-level psychology and I myself have experienced psychosomatic pain before. But honestly, I never expected to have such a striking response to anxiety/depression/grief.

I have searched for a good visual representation of an aura and it’s hard to find one that actually reflects what I was experiencing. It was something like this:

This is not exactly what it looks like for me, as some of my auras have been “thicker” and more “stained glass-like” in color, looking more zigzagged (as if the entire half-circle is made up of triangular pieces of vividly bright LED-like colors). Also, mine were gone within about 20 minutes.

That’s not an insignificant reaction to something that is going on in my head. My brain created those auras. That is amazing.

I should mention, I never had an MRI so technically a tumor cannot be ruled out. And neither can some other cause that I have not considered. However, the fact that my auras stopped after I put concerted effort into exploring my anxiety, acknowledging depression and recognizing that I was not okay with the pressures I was under suggests that it’s probably not a tumor.