For those of you with medical training, these three words bristle with meaning like a boxing glove full of broken glass.
Carcinoma I'm sure you know, right? Means cancer. Oooooh, scary, don't say that word!!!
Invasive, not so easy if you're not a doctor. It means scattered, among other things.
Ductal - yes, ladies, you may have already guessed it by now: it refers to the internal structures of a woman's breasts.
So without being too subtle about it:
MY WIFE HAS JUST BEEN DIAGNOSED
WITH BREAST CANCER!!!!!
There. That was quite a shock, wasn't it? I bet you were beginning to think that the Prof Madder Chronicles was a funny blog full of witty jokes, weren't you?
Well, reality bites and it bites hard. Just last week, my wife Annie decided to pluck up the courage, with my strong urging, to have a check-up on a lump in her breast. This is a familiar story to many of you reading this, I am sure.
You think it's OK, it doesn't hurt, it's only a little lump, some days it seems to get smaller, it really doesn't hurt, sweetie, lots of people have lumps on their breasts don't they?
So, Annie submitted herself to a painful mammogram, and a biopsy was performed on a sample taken from the lump in her left breast. It was all very fast and efficient.
A few days later, we went to the Sarawak General Hospital for the verdict. I knew there would be some sort of problem, and those three little words on the lab report did suggest that there might be some sort of operation in store.
But we didn't quite expect the doctors to tell us that not only was the lump indeed cancerous, but that Annie would have to have her breast removed. And in two weeks' time.
Luckily, to absorb some of the shock, the cancer is at stage 1, meaning it's not very serious, and can be treated easily with a good chance of long-term survival.
But, with all my considerable powers of imagination, and they are considerable, I still can't imagine what having a breast taken away would mean to a woman. Breasts are a fundamental part of a woman's identity, expressions of her beauty and self-worth. They are in many ways the Holy of Holies, never to be touched except by loving hands.
I tell you this: I will not allow my wife to suffer too much psychological damage from this. The physical scars will be bad enough, and she is a gentle soul already. To me, she will still be beautiful and worthy after her operation. I don't care whether she is physically whole or not. She is my angel, and my queen. I will stand by her, and keep her safe, no matter what scars she has.
Over the next weeks and months, I will be updating you, gentle readers, on my wife's progress from time to time, along with a few posts on other topics just to provide some light relief. But I hope this rather screwed-up and emotive post will serve as advice and warning to everyone, especially women, who detect irregularities or lumps on their breasts (or indeed, anywhere else!).
Please, don't leave it too long before you go to the clinic for a check-up. You owe it to yourselves and your loved ones to have it seen by an expert now. Just because it doesn't hurt, it doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. In fact, the cancerous lumps usually don't hurt, but lurk beneath the layers of the breast like submarines ….
I'm not trying to scare you, gentle readers. I'm trying to save your lives. Thankfully, because we have detected the cancer early, things are looking hopeful for my wife.
Let me finish by quoting the Litany Against Fear, from Frank Herbert's series of Dune novels. Maybe some of you will take heart from this, and learn not to be fearful about breast cancer:
I must not fear.
There. That was quite a shock, wasn't it? I bet you were beginning to think that the Prof Madder Chronicles was a funny blog full of witty jokes, weren't you?
Well, reality bites and it bites hard. Just last week, my wife Annie decided to pluck up the courage, with my strong urging, to have a check-up on a lump in her breast. This is a familiar story to many of you reading this, I am sure.
You think it's OK, it doesn't hurt, it's only a little lump, some days it seems to get smaller, it really doesn't hurt, sweetie, lots of people have lumps on their breasts don't they?
So, Annie submitted herself to a painful mammogram, and a biopsy was performed on a sample taken from the lump in her left breast. It was all very fast and efficient.
A few days later, we went to the Sarawak General Hospital for the verdict. I knew there would be some sort of problem, and those three little words on the lab report did suggest that there might be some sort of operation in store.
But we didn't quite expect the doctors to tell us that not only was the lump indeed cancerous, but that Annie would have to have her breast removed. And in two weeks' time.
Luckily, to absorb some of the shock, the cancer is at stage 1, meaning it's not very serious, and can be treated easily with a good chance of long-term survival.
But, with all my considerable powers of imagination, and they are considerable, I still can't imagine what having a breast taken away would mean to a woman. Breasts are a fundamental part of a woman's identity, expressions of her beauty and self-worth. They are in many ways the Holy of Holies, never to be touched except by loving hands.
I tell you this: I will not allow my wife to suffer too much psychological damage from this. The physical scars will be bad enough, and she is a gentle soul already. To me, she will still be beautiful and worthy after her operation. I don't care whether she is physically whole or not. She is my angel, and my queen. I will stand by her, and keep her safe, no matter what scars she has.
Over the next weeks and months, I will be updating you, gentle readers, on my wife's progress from time to time, along with a few posts on other topics just to provide some light relief. But I hope this rather screwed-up and emotive post will serve as advice and warning to everyone, especially women, who detect irregularities or lumps on their breasts (or indeed, anywhere else!).
Please, don't leave it too long before you go to the clinic for a check-up. You owe it to yourselves and your loved ones to have it seen by an expert now. Just because it doesn't hurt, it doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. In fact, the cancerous lumps usually don't hurt, but lurk beneath the layers of the breast like submarines ….
I'm not trying to scare you, gentle readers. I'm trying to save your lives. Thankfully, because we have detected the cancer early, things are looking hopeful for my wife.
Let me finish by quoting the Litany Against Fear, from Frank Herbert's series of Dune novels. Maybe some of you will take heart from this, and learn not to be fearful about breast cancer:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
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