a doctor’s insight

My last post received a response from a doctor that was kind and insightful. I thought I’d copy it here in case anyone doesn’t read other responses. I don’t want you to miss his input! Here is his excellent advice:

“As a doc, I am sorry to hear about your truly shocking experience. It definitely sounds horrible. In reading it, I had a few ideas to help others find good docs as well.
1. I agree if a doc ever says, “I do not need your business” You can be sure he has not put your needs 1st, and getting out of there is a good idea.
2. All doctors, but maybe surgeons more, have issues – too much life and death stuff on their backs – The good ones have found a way to deal with those stresses before they come to the patient room…. If your doc consistently appears stressed or angry, it might suggest he has not figured out his issues.
3. I recommend to all patients that they become experts in their illness (particularly chronic or serious illnesses) No one is as motivated as yourself in getting good care as yourself, and the information is widely available. While some of the jargon is hard, the “conclusions” at the end of most medical journals is pretty straightforward. There are also pretty good websites out there. I love it when a patient informs me of late breaking news on their meds.
4. Even the best docs have bad days, I know I am pretty short with patients if I had someone die that morning… But consistent poor communication skills, defensiveness, and lack of empathy should be red flags that its time to find another.

Warmly,
Josh”

Heartfelt thanks to Dr. Phillips for his gracious response and wisdom!

biopsy experiences

I want to begin by expressing my gratitude for many amazing medical professionals who have helped me immensely through my two-time battle with breast cancer.  My goal in writing about some of my unfortunate and unnecessarily painful experiences is to save you from going through something similar.  With a little knowledge and the advocacy of someone who knows about cancer and it’s treatment I feel your experience, although not pleasant because of what cancer is, can be less intimidating and painful.

This was my experience. I don’t share it to badmouth anyone or to elicit sympathy, but to illustrate the importance of being informed and therefore well-equipped to face cancer head-on.

Biopsy experience #1:

In September 1999 I found a lump in my left breast. I was freaking out inside because the thought of cancer terrified me. My grandmother died of breast cancer and my mother of ovarian cancer. Rather than panic, I decided to wait until my regular ob/gyn appointment which was already scheduled for October. I didn’t tell my doctor, figuring she’d find the lump during the exam. She didn’t notice it, so I pointed it out. She said it probably was no big deal and to take Vitamin E pills daily for a month and to come back.

I dutifully followed her advice and returned a month later, with the lump. She then referred me to a surgeon for a needle biopsy. He wasn’t able to draw any fluid out, so he scheduled me for a surgical biopsy. I asked about doing the surgery in such a way that there wouldn’t be an unsightly scar, and he said he couldn’t. (I should have gotten a second opinion before scheduling the biopsy.) After the results came back I learned I had ductal carcinoma in situ (cancer), as well as a significant scar.

I selected an oncologist and at my first appointment she recommended I switch to the surgeon with whom she worked. When I met with him, he was upset that Surgeon #1 left a scar and an indentation in my breast. He said he could have done the surgery where no scar would have shown and I would have been pleased with the results. As you might have guessed I felt out of control at this point and disappointed. Surgeon #2, also scheduled me for a sentinel node biopsy, a procedure where they inject dye into the area of the cancer and follow it to the lymph nodes. (This was one of the tests I had asked Surgeon #1 about and he said no one in town was doing them and it was “still experimental,” validating the importance of getting a second opinion.) Surgeon #2 performed the SNB on me, a procedure he told me he’d been doing for years. (This was my introduction to the varied opinions of medical professionals.) Once injected, the first node the dye enters is the sentinel node, and the ones that it feeds are secondary. The dye helps the doctor locate the nodes. He then removes the sentinel node and just a few of the others to be tested. If they are cancer-free, then the patient is spared the discomfort and troublesome issues that come with having all their lymph nodes removed. Thankfully, my sentinel node was ‘clean,’ so I was able to keep my remaining lymph nodes.

Biopsy experience #2:

Five years later, I found a large lump in my right breast. I’d been having mammograms every six months since my first battle with breast cancer. It appeared quickly and was aggressive. I made an appointment with Surgeon #2, since my oncologist was out-of-town.

By now I’d learned that doctors weren’t in fact infallible, a disappointment for sure, but I was still a very loyal and trusting person.

In my first appointment (of the second cancer) with Surgeon #2, he brought up ‘Mary’ (name changed to protect her identity), a woman I had referred to him several months earlier. He asked about her and I said I hadn’t heard anything. He informed me that she had decided to ‘go to Tulsa’ and had chosen a different course of treatment. I got the impression that ‘Mary’ choosing a different doctor really bothered him. Then he did a needle biopsy on me, without any anesthesia. (FYI, It’s never a good idea to have an angry doctor do any procedure on you.)

A week or so later at my second appointment with Surgeon #2, I walked in the room and the nurse said to undress from the waist up. I said there must be a mistake, that I’d already had the biopsy and the doctor examined me at that time. She basically said, do it anyway, and left. I was really irritated and my husband tried to calm my nerves. I looked over to the counter and noticed some scary-looking medical implements laying there. I proceeded to undress and put on the gown which was tiny. What is up with one-size-fits-all hospital gowns? Isn’t it humiliating enough that you have to undress and have your breast probed and poked, but you can’t even keep yourself covered?!  I rummaged through the drawers under the examination table to find something bigger. No luck. (FYI, when you’re facing cancer and numerous office/hospital visits, even minor things can become enormous irritants. Emotions become strained and fragile.)

I sat on the cold, exam table clutching my too-small gown and Nurse Nancy (not her real name) and Surgeon #2 walked in. He sat down and told us the pathologists tested the tissue from the needle biopsy but hadn’t labeled it cancer. They said only that the cells ‘looked suspicious.’ He said, “They won’t say it’s cancer, but I’ll tell you right now, I’ve seen this hundreds of times and it’s cancer.” We talked and I asked if there was any possible way to avoid chemotherapy. He got pretty intense and said loudly, something like, “You are still a young woman! What is your deal with not wanting to go through chemo again?” (Um, probably because I’d gone through it already!) Then he got angry and said, “You’ve got a look in your eye! If you think you’re going to run down to Tulsa and have some doctor tell you what you want to hear, give you a pill or some herbs . . . if a pill could help, I’d have given it to you.” Then, shockingly, he said something like this: “You know, I don’t need your business. I have more than enough, but if you think you’re gonna run down there. . . .”  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! It was like he was taking his frustration over ‘Mary’ and his bruised ego out on me! (That should have been my exit cue, but foolishly I stayed.) Incidentally, that was the first time it ever occurred to me that a doctor saw me as income. Duh, was I ever naïve! I thought the reason he became a doctor was to help people! Sadly, I believe I was mistaken. Thankfully, not all doctors behave so badly.

Then Surgeon #2 stood up and told me he needed to do a core biopsy so the pathologists could have more information to work with. I’d never heard of a core biopsy, and he didn’t explain it.

Les asked if he would numb me first. He said he would, but that it couldn’t numb all the way into the lump. I don’t think he gave me enough local anesthesia because I felt everything. (Again, if I had to do it over again, even at the risk of him blowing up in a rage, I’d ask him to numb me more.)

What happened next was sheer torture. I look back in disbelief that this happened to me. Watching Will Tippin on Alias be tortured the night before was eerily premonitory of this moment.

He cut me with a scalpel and inserted a long metal tube into my right breast. Then he slid some kind of long needle down inside the tube and pulled a trigger which grabbed and pulled my flesh. It hurt like hell. I was shocked to feel such incredible, searing, burning pain, but I focused on the relief that it was over. It wasn’t. Surgeon #2 went on to do that three more times! Each time it hurt worse – like yanking all the way down to my abdomen. I had tears streaming out the corners of my eyes, running down my neck, the back of my neck and hair wet in a pool of tears. I gripped Nurse Nancy’s hand with my left hand and the table with my right. My husband was standing at my feet, looking on in horror, unable to help me. I had to shake my left leg vigorously in an attempt to distract myself from the excruciating pain.

Surgeon #2 dropped the bloodied metal implements into the sink and quickly exited the room without saying anything. Nurse Nancy followed. Les and I were left in the room, blood dripping down my breast, onto the table. My teeth began to chatter, my body shook uncontrollably, as I slipped into shock. I was so cold. No blanket. No ‘sorry I had to hurt you like that.’ No ‘good-bye’ or ‘I’ll be right back.’ Only a little band-aid that didn’t stop the bleeding.

If I’d known what they would be doing, I could have taken something in advance to help offset the pain. They knew and should have told me.

After waiting for a long time, Les went out in the hall to ask for some assistance. A pain pill perhaps? He washed the blood from me with a few paper towels he found near the sink holding the bloody instruments. My dear husband helped me dress and Nurse Nancy came back with a pain pill and a prescription. She seemed surprised that I was shaking uncontrollably, but showed no compassion, only icy indifference.

The next day I called my oncologist to tell her about this experience and she didn’t “understand what the problem was.” I finally realized it was time to look for a new team.

(I had nightmares about this for over a year afterward. It felt brutal and violating; indeed, it was the most barbaric experience I’ve ever endured. There is no excuse for medical treatment like this anywhere. Ever.)

We put the word out that we were looking for a new surgeon and oncologist. Dr. Silva came highly recommended and agreeably fit me right in to see him. His nurse, Sue, was kind and friendly. (Ever since, I’ve referred to her as, “Sue, the nurse that I love,” because of her ready smile and good-natured approach.)

Examining me, Dr. Silva was shocked at what he saw. I had such terrible bruising and swelling after the core biopsies that there was no way to distinguish the tumor from the knotty contusion. He was swift in ordering other tests to learn as much as possible and determine a course of action.

When I went in for an ultrasound, the doctor performing the ultrasound asked me several questions, one of which was, “Did [Surgeon #2] use an ultrasound to locate the tumor before doing the core biopsy? I said no. “An x-ray?” No. She was appalled! (Maybe he was punishing me for ‘Mary’s’ resolve to go elsewhere? All I can say is, ‘Mary’ definitely made the right decision!)

I hope that my horrific experience was one in ten million. I would never wish it on anyone! Please, allow my misfortune to motivate you to find a doctor, as I finally did, who shows genuine concern, is patient with your questions and is open to you seeking a second or even a third opinion.

I’ll end this post with a few suggestions, lessons I learned in my process:

~ A second opinion is always wise. Sometimes a third opinion is necessary.

~ Never go through with any procedure if you are uncomfortable or unsure about it, or

if you are not fully satisfied that all of your questions have been answered. It’s vital

that you understand what the doctor is going to do and why.

~ If your doctor doesn’t want to explain himself/herself, or doesn’t encourage you when

you mention getting a second opinion, then I believe you you need to find another

doctor.

~ There is a tendency in many of us to attribute almost God-like characteristics to our

doctors, especially if they have helped us through past illnesses. It’s important to be

courageous, (after all this is your body,) and realize you have a role to play in your

own process. Even the best doctors can’t know absolutely everything.

Killer Cancer Comments (and bluntly honest advice)

When I joined that unfortunate group, people with cancer, I began to encounter folks who had plenty to say about it. All of a sudden people become uninhibited. Everyone had a cancer story, and they wanted to tell it to me! I think it’s similar to when you’re pregnant and everyone has their birthing experience to share and they feel the right to pat your tummy too. It’s really quite odd.

I don’t know why people who had never spoken with me before, suddenly acquired the freedom. Maybe they thought their words would encourage me, but often they had the opposite effect.

I’ve had every sort of comment spoken to me. One woman told me it was my deodorant that caused breast cancer. She actually sent me some Tom’s deodorant all the way from California!

Several ‘thoughtful’ people let me know that it was some fault with my diet, and wouldn’t you know, they just happened to be selling the very nutrient of which I was deficient! How nifty! What a coincidence! (Did I mention I never asked them for any advice?)

Unsolicited advice is never good, especially with people facing cancer. (I realize that here I am giving unsolicited advice! But you clicked on my blog! =)

A lady at church came up one Sunday and told me, “Everyone I know gets cancer and dies. Everyone who has cancer that I pray for dies!”  My bubble was saying, if this is your track record, don’t pray for me, don’t touch me, don’t talk to me! I was too timid and didn’t want to be rude but I wanted to say, “What exactly is your point?!” I finally had to take her hands off of me, to literally pull away from her and say “Well, thank you for that,” as I walked away. (No, I don’t know why she had her hands on me.)

Similarly, we got a phone call from a family member, “We’ve really been praying for Kris. You know, my good friend’s wife was going through this and we really prayed for her. She just died. But I want you to know we’ll keep praying for Kris . . . .” For real! For Real!

Some of the best advice I learned from my mother decades ago especially applies here:  “If you don’t have anything positive to say, then don’t say anything at all.”

One cold and windy afternoon I was at Sam’s Club pumping gas into my car. I noticed a man looking at me. I looked away. (Sometimes I felt like a giant pink C -  circa Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter – was sewn on my top for all to see. I usually tried to avoid most eye contact because I was living with my own little life-sentence.) Seeing movement in my periphery, I glanced up and noticed the man was coming towards me. Since I didn’t recognize him, I figured he was coming to the pump opposite me. He walked up to me, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. Then he asked how my tests came out! Now, I know he meant well, but he didn’t know me personally, and did he really think I wanted to discuss my private, personal test results with him?  It felt very nonchalant, like “how ‘bout those Huskers!” I know he meant well, but it was horrible for me. I got in the car and cried.

The better thing to have done would have been to offer up a quiet prayer on my behalf without even bringing it to my attention, or smile and wave and leave it at that.

Another woman tried to ‘comfort’ my husband when she learned I’d had a double mastectomy, “At least she didn’t lose anything she needed,” she said. What?! What is that supposed to mean? I’m still shaking my head in disbelief! I have no words for that stupidity. Seriously.

Whether it was too much dairy in my diet or not enough vitamins, or there was some deep dark sin for which God was punishing me, I think I’ve just about heard it all.

Friends have told me they feel awkward when they’re around someone who has cancer. All of a sudden they don’t know what to say. They panic. They don’t want to say the wrong thing. They feel like there is a giant in the room and either they pretend it’s not there, or they say something, and it’s usually stupid. If this is how you feel, here are some thoughts to help you:

Remember they are still your friend. That hasn’t changed. The only thing different is that they are facing the toughest days of their life. They will need your patience, empathy (not pity), understanding and help. The best thing to do is to tell them privately, that you ache for them, that you’re praying (if you are) and that you’re just so, so sorry. If you aren’t that close, but you want them to know you care, send a card with those sentiments. If you feel and act awkward, they will feel like they have to comfort you. That’s not the outcome you want.

Resist the temptation to speculate. Believe me, the person facing cancer has done plenty of that already! You can bet they will discuss those things with their doctor. Trying to find a ‘reason’ may help you feel better, but it actually places blame on them. Like the people I knew who mentioned using deodorant or eating dairy, what those people communicated was, “You caused your cancer.”  That’s terrible to do to someone. Sometimes there are no answers. Period. Leave it at that.

If you’re not sure what to say, then keep quiet. You don’t have to say anything at all. You’re not obligated to keep a conversation going. You don’t have to fill empty air. Quiet is really ok. Sometimes just being present is the best thing.

I received a letter from a woman when I learned I had cancer that I have treasured ever since. It was exactly the right thing to encourage me! In her card, this woman wrote that she’d heard I’d received some troubling news. She shared the story of her mother who was diagnosed with breast cancer as a 26-year-old, and she wanted me to know that her mother was now in her 80’s! She’d never gotten cancer again and she was living a full and healthy life! That was a story I needed to hear! That was a story I held onto! I still do! If you have a story that end’s well, then by all means, share it! Good news brings hope and hope promotes healing!

Five years later, when I learned I had a different kind of breast cancer, my friend Anne called sobbing. She said she’d just heard and was so sad, so sorry and she wanted me to know. We held our phones to our ears and cried together. Her tears were a gift.

Another friend called and said, “Kris, I am so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m just so sorry.” Their words were medicine to me.

Often, during the months of my cancer treatment, I wouldn’t even answer my phone. I was home, but I was just too exhausted to have a conversation with someone, anyone. If this happens to you, don’t take it personally, don’t get irritated if you can’t make the connect even though you’ve tried several times. The person has cancer. They are sick. They don’t feel well. Their energy is sapped and their emotions are spent. “They got nuthin.” If you’re tempted to be offended, remind yourself, it isn’t about you! It’s about them! They feel like crap. Remind yourself of that. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly and choose patience. Give lots of grace, as much as you’d want to receive when you’re at your worst.

In closing, the best advice I can share is the simple phrase we all learn at a young age: think before you speak. Consider how it might make you feel to have those words spoken to you. Then, edit them or just smile and say nothing.

Unnecessary Breast Removal

Welcome back to The Breast Blog Ever, where Dr. Silva and I present relevant topics about breast cancer diagnosis, treatment and anything breast cancer related. My name is Kris Beauchamp. I’m a two-time breast cancer survivor. During my cancer journey, I found Dr. Silva, who is one of the most intelligent, informed, skilled yet humble and kind doctors I’ve ever met (and I’ve met a lot, believe me!) It’s been six and a half years since the second diagnosis, and I’m happy to say that with all the factors thrown in, I’ve got less than a 3% chance of recurrence and I’m regularly under his watchful care.

Dr. Silva and I have a genuine desire to help people who are facing breast cancer.  We want you to be informed so that you can make the best decisions possible and achieve the best outcome. We had discussed the possibility of collaborating on a blog for women, and we are delighted to be up and running! This is his first article. He has written it in ‘lay terminology’ but it may still be a bit mind-boggling, so I’ve provided a list of terms as well as a brief summary and closing comments.

Please remember, we are not giving you medical advice, just providing information for you to become more informed. We want you to be equipped to find and receive the best medical care possible and to ask good questions to your doctors so that you may make the most informed decisions for your own health and well-being.

We welcome your questions or comments. Now here is Dr. Silva:

Why are women with a single early breast cancer having their opposite normal breast removed also?

In 1991, a National Cancer Institute Consensus Conference endorsed breast conserving surgery (BCS), defined as lumpectomy with post-operative whole breast irradiation, over mastectomy as the preferred treatment of early stage breast cancer (ESBC). In 2002, with more than 25 years of follow-up, renewed examination of all the studies which made this recommendation possible revealed the same results. Over the years this led to a decrease in mastectomy rates. By 2003 BCS rates in the USA approached 69%. Recent reports have demonstrated that in the US this trend is decreasing despite the fact that breast cancers in the US are increasingly smaller at diagnosis. More alarmingly, many women who have no established genetic predisposition or increased risk for developing a cancer of the opposite normal breast are opting to have it removed also.

Among the reasons documented for this tendency is the introduction of MRI in breast diagnostics. Its use coupled with incomplete assessment by clinicians of any real genetic risk has led fearful and uninformed patients with ESBC to unnecessary preventive removal of the opposite normal breast (CPM). Many patients, young and old, opt for CPM based on a questionable MRI finding without a biopsy to prove it is cancer. The standard of care requires that no decision be made about such a finding without a biopsy proven diagnosis of cancer.  Multiple distressing reports have shown an increase in CPM from 4.2% in 1998 to 11% in 2003. In one report 8.3% of these women were age 60 or older at the time of CPM. In these women’s normal expected lifetime, the odds of developing a cancer in the other breast are near zero. Among women age 18-49, where a larger proportion could be at increased genetic risk, 25% opted to have their other breast removed. These reports also show that the CPM rate increased with MRI use. Often, the reason for CPM was physician’s advice regarding the risk of cancer in the normal breast. This negligible risk has been documented since the days of the radical mastectomy and demonstrates how inadequate informed consent can be very damaging. This risk is well established as 3% at 5 years. Furthermore, it is decreased by 50% in patients using tomoxifen and 20% in those treated with chemotherapy. These are frequently used to treat their initial breast cancer. Clearly, preventive removal of the normal breast can have no impact on the survival of a patient in whom the stage of her known cancer is the primary determinant of survival.  At present, there is no question that increasing utilization of MRI by physicians not familiar with all of its limitations coupled with patient’s inordinate fear and inadequate risk assessment lead to very difficult and hurried conversations.  Many specialized cancer surgeons find that all this information is hard to convey at a single visit as it may require discussion about reliable alternative surveillance strategies, prevention strategies, accurate genetic risk assessment and its limitations without resorting to removal of a normal breast. The explosion in our knowledge about breast cancer, the selective testing of individuals at genetic risk and the prudent use of MRI requires the use of evidence based algorithms within specialized multidisciplinary breast centers to care for what is the complicated problem of breast cancer.

Edibaldo Silva, MD, PhD, FACS

Terms:

• LUMPECTOMY = surgery to remove the lump and surrounding tissue
• WHOLE BREAST IRRADIATION = radiating the entire breast area
• MASTECTOMY = surgically removing the entire breast, surrounding tissue, and some lymph nodes
• RADICAL MASTECTOMY = a mastectomy where underlying muscle is removed as well (rarely done any more because the cancer is dealt with before it gets to the muscle)
• ESBC = early stage breast cancer
• BCS = breast conserving surgery
• CPM = unnecessary preventive removal of opposite breast

Summary: After 25 years and a follow-up of initial studies, a National Cancer Institute Consensus Conference drew the same conclusions: lumpectomy followed by whole breast irradiation is the preferred treatment for ESBC. Yet, in only 5 years, the women opting for unnecessary breast removal jumped from 4.2% to 11%! It nearly tripled!

Why has the number of women choosing breast conservation decreased? Why are they choosing to have both breasts removed even though it isn’t necessary?

Some possible reasons:

• having tests, specifically breast MRI, done but not having the results evaluated by someone specially skilled to do so
• only receiving partial information
• fear
• patients rush to make a decision without even having a biopsy first to see if it is cancer

Kris’s closing comments:

When facing cancer, there are so many variables to consider. Just one visit to the doctor doesn’t provide enough time to unpack them all. Too often though, a decision to remove both breasts is made without all the facts.  (I remember the knee-jerk reaction I felt of “just get it out of me!” Thankfully, my doctors responded that I didn’t need to rush, but had time to make an informed decision. They were right! Even though it’s difficult to wait, an informed decision is always better than a hasty one.)

A person facing breast cancer needs to have a qualified (experienced, knowledgeable and skilled) team of doctors helping them make the best decisions for their particular situation. Their doctors will want to discuss surveillance strategies, prevention tactics, genetic risk assessment, as well as treatment options and timetables. The team will need to discuss the best course of action for you before bringing to you their recommendations. It’s excruciatingly difficult to wait, but it’s worth it.

Fear is never a good teacher. It is an even worse doctor. If you or a friend or family member are facing breast cancer, Dr. Silva and I urge you to go to a specialized multidisciplinary breast center. (And for what it’s worth, from my perspective, a teaching hospital is going to be the most ‘cutting edge’ – pardon the pun – they’ll have the most up-to-date information as well as doctors who are leading the way.) Remember, you can win a battle that you are well-equipped to fight!

Introduction-Kris’s Story

The Breast Blog Ever has just become a reality! Yay!

My name is Kris Beauchamp and it has been in my heart as well that of Dr. Edibaldo Silva, my surgical oncologist, to collaborate on this blog!  Dr. Silva comes at this from a medical perspective, of course, but his heart is full of compassion for the many patients he treats.

I’ve got years of first hand experience – both my grandmother and mother succumbed to cancer so I feel unusually qualified to discuss this topic, since I’ve lived through it vicariously and then personally, twice.

In November of 1999, at the age of 38, I learned that I had breast cancer. Thankfully it was a small, very slow-growing type that we found early. After a lumpectomy and chemotherapy followed by radiation therapy, I was back on the road of life enjoying every minute. My heart was bursting with joy and gratitude.

Five years later, in December of 2004, I got slammed with the horrendous news that I had cancer again! No, it hadn’t metastasized. I had an entirely different kind of breast cancer in the other breast! It was large and aggressive.  This time I knew what I was facing and dreaded it with my whole being. Even then, I had no idea how much more difficult it was going to be.

I contacted the surgeon who had worked with me the first time, as the oncologist I’d worked with before was out-of-town. After a barbaric procedure, (which I learned after the fact, shouldn’t have been performed on me at all) and several unprofessional, rude, arrogant and shaming comments later, I knew I needed a different doctor!

Miraculously, I found Dr. Silva. He was everything a doctor was supposed to be. He listened to me. (Imagine that!) He examined me while allowing me to keep my modesty and dignity. He wasn’t arrogant but was both understanding and professional.

Dr. Silva told my husband and me at our first appointment that if we decided to work with him, we needed to know that this was an ongoing relationship. Dr. Silva would work with me aggressively to destroy the cancer and to save my life, but once we won that battle, he would still be in the picture!  There would be regular follow-up to keep a close eye on my health.

Well, wouldn’t you know, if ever a woman was the poster-child of everything that could go wrong, it was me. Not because of the doctors, but just because. Sometimes there are no reasons.

Thankfully, Dr. Silva is not a quitter; he’s a hard worker, researching continually. He is up-to-date in his methods and treatments. He’s brilliant, yet approachable. Such an uncommon combination. I felt so blessed to have had him take me on.

That was six years and two months ago! I’m alive! I’m well! And I am a living encouragement to those who fear the ‘C word’. Now I’m the poster child for someone who beat cancer against the odds! I’m proof they don’t need to fear, but they do need to arm themselves with knowledge. There is absolutely no way we can know or even begin to understand everything there is to know about breast cancer, but knowing someone who does know and understand just about everything is the next best thing!

That is why this blog has come to be. We are here to discuss topics relevant to breast cancer treatment and survival, in medical terms as well as in lay-person-speak! We hope this blog will be a useful tool for you. I know from personal experience that you can have peace even in the midst of facing cancer, because I wasn’t facing it alone. You can have peace as well, because you won’t be facing it alone either, we’re with you.