Howdy Ya'll!

Virginia and me with Katarina Durisova, one of my favorite "Babushkas" (see below for explanation)

Here I go again. This is my third blog, to date. I love blogging. I love writing. I love being in touch with people and sharing my thoughts, joys and fears with folks. I am disappointed, though, that I have another topic to write about now -- breast cancer. Yep, you got it. I, like so many other women in this world, was diagnosed with breast cancer not quite two weeks ago. It stinks, but it is what it is, and my hope is that this blog will be an effective way of keeping friends and family informed on my progress.

My story goes something like this:

I am a healthy 43 year old woman. I ran a half marathon the day after my screening mammogram, and despite having trained for only five weeks, had a better finishing time than I had in both of my previous half marathons (three and five years ago). I have no family history of breast cancer or any other cancer, for that matter (except my Dad's prostrate cancer 15 years ago). I did not have a lump. I went in for a routine screening mammogram on September 25th, two months after returning from having lived overseas for 17 months, and the day after my husband returned from having been overseas for two additional months past the time that my children and I returned in late July.

Five days later, I received a call from the breast center asking me to come back in for some "additional views." This didn't sound particularly good to me, but not terribly ominous, either. Luckily for me, I have a friend who has a friend who is a radiologist at the breast center I went to, and I called her and she was able to get me in two days later for the additional xrays. I bopped in there that Friday morning (October 1st -- my husband's first day in his new job, and my Mom's birthday), and did the do. The x-ray technician (a lovely woman by the name of Diane) showed me what they were wanting to get a better look at, and it was this little area of tiny white dots. She explained that there was no lump there, but that there were these little "microcalcifications" that had begun to "circle the wagons," as she said, which is not always a good thing. After waiting a few minutes for the results, my friend the radiologist came and got me, took me to her office, and said that I would need a biopsy. Damn it. She also, in response to my very direct question as to her best guess at what was going on, said that she thought that I probably had a malignancy that was contained in the milk ducts. I took some comfort in thinking that if this was cancer, it had been detected long before any lump even had the chance to form, and started to wrap my head around this notion of me -- healthy me -- having breast cancer.

The following Thursday, I bopped back to the same office (this time with a bit more trepidation), for something called a stereotactic biopsy. This is NOT a fun procedure, but it is survivable. Basically, you lay on this table with your boob hanging down through a hole, they squeeze your boob between two pieces of plastic and look at it through the mammogram machine, find the spot they want to biopsy, and then they numb you up, put this big honking needle (I never saw it, but I'm guessing it was big and honking) and suck out tissue. Now, they told me that this would not hurt, and not to scare those of you who might eventually have to go through this, but it hurt like heck for me for some weird reason. I guess I'm in the small minority of women who experience some pain during this procedure. Lucky me. The procedure went well, though, and I was told that they got a good sample. My friend the radiologist said she'd call me the next day.

And so the anguishing "waiting game" began. I was fine until about 4:00 the next afternoon (October 8) when I realized that within the next hour, I was going to receive news that was sure to change my life and the life of my family in a rather substantial way. Sure enough, I got the phone call around 5:00, and my friend, the radiologist, confirmed that I had what we thought I had -- ductal carcinoma in situ, otherwise known as "DCIS."

In an effort not to make this first post too long, I'll write about what's happened since that Friday afternoon in my next post. Just a word about my blog title and background, though. First, the title. One thing I've learned since this whole process started is that the journey from detection to diagnosis, regardless of how quickly it moves, involves many steps, each of which involves waiting and agonizing and fretting and worrying. Folks like me who haven't been down this road before simply have no way of knowing how difficult the process is, and how, just when it seems like you've gotten the "full story," there are more tests, and more doctor's appointments, and more pathology reports to be had. It is a multi-step process, and for that reason, I thought that the title "Every Little Step" might provide a decent overall description of the journey.

As for the background, I was thrilled beyond belief to find these little babushkas on shabbyblogs.com. Having lived in Eastern Europe first in 1993 (Romania) and more recently for the past year and a half in Serbia, I have an affinity for little old ladies in scarves. I just love this graphic, and think that it speaks to my situation, in particular, and to the topic of breast cancer in general in the following ways:

1) one of the meanings for "babushka" is a head scarf, and as we know, scarves become friends to women going through chemotherapy;

2) one in eight women will have breast cancer in their lifetimes, and this graphic, I think, illustrates how random and non-discriminating breast cancer can be;

3) another meaning for "babushka" is "elderly Russian woman," and although I guess I'll never be Russian, I fully intend to be elderly one day, and so the thought of one day being a babushka myself is encouraging;

4) the graphic shows women standing together, which is a powerful symbol, I think, when it comes to breast cancer, because as women, we do come together over this disease and help one another through it (and much love and thanks to my bc survivor friends who have already helped me so much over the past few weeks!!!!);

5) finally, I love, love, love Eastern Europe and its people, and am so happy that I can have these sweet and beautiful depictions of women from that wonderful part of the world on this blog. You might have wondered about the photo at the top of this blog post. Well, that's Virginia, my daughter, and me with a wonderful babushka from Serbia who also happens to be an amazing artist. I have one of her pieces in my kitchen, and I consider it a gift to have something so special from such an amazing babushka!

So, that's all for today. More later, friends, but one final note: if you are overdue for a mammogram, please, please, please go get one!!!

Erin