Virginia Lee Alcott

After Virginia finished receiving treatment for breast cancer, it took a while before she could embrace the process of follow-ups.

My breast cancer diagnosis arrived on the most romantic day of the calendar. Valentine’s Day came not with flowers and chocolates, hearts and love words, but with “It’s cancer.” I wrapped my arms around the coarse paper drape required for surgeon visits. I remember sitting numb, appreciative that everyone in the room was wearing a mask since it was during COVID-19, so they could not see my real expression. There was a segment of that meeting I could not remember after hearing my diagnosis. My heart went silent. My mind was absorbed by an ancient Latin hymn. The doctor’s eyes were questioning. I suppose he asked me a question I did not answer. Once the fog lifted and Latin words ceased to replicate as if a cure was found, I heard options and a timeline.

Ductal carcinoma, Stage 1. Excellent prognosis with surgery and radiation. Medication. Mark your calendar.

A partial mastectomy was successful. Daily radiation treatments were successful. I had cheerleaders with pink pom poms. I had loved ones that embraced me with care. I had stage 1 cancer and not stage 3 or 4. Yes! It would be easy, a breeze, a drop in the bucket. It would be over. No more cancer. No more worry. No more Latin words hidden in my milk ducts. I would win the prize.

I soon realized how wrong I was. The shadow of breast cancer is relentless. I had no idea how it would follow me, even with a good prognosis. And the shadow was a dichotomy. I hesitated to confide in anyone about this feeling. I was gripped by how fortunate I was and how others suffered so much more than I experienced. After all, I only lost one-third of one breast to surgery, not all or both breasts. I only needed radiation and not chemotherapy. It was only after a few friends shared their breast cancer experience with me that I understood no matter the differences, there were similarities in the complex feelings that surface once you are diagnosed and treated for breast cancer.

As time progressed and appointments with the surgeon, radiologist and oncologist were kept, I really thought that once the “cancer-free” diagnosis was presented, a true gift, I would be able to cross off each doctor. When I shared this with the radiologist, he said, “No Ma’am. We are your team. You will be on this team for at least five years.” I responded that no one asked me to be on this team. I do not want to be on a cancer team. I visualized the cheerleaders with the pink pompoms dancing their routine, cheering me on. Rah, rah, rah. It took me a while to appreciate my team, understand the unique contribution each doctor made, and embrace the process.

. The article reflects the views of Alcott and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

Articles

After treatment for breast cancer ended, I was excited to move on, but the shadow of cancer continued following me.

Virginia Lee Alcott

My Care Team’s Pink Pom Poms During Breast Cancer

Latest News