Part 2: My Diagnosis, Chemotherapy & Hair Loss

A couple of months before the 13^th of March, I felt a lump in my breast. I knew I had to get it checked, but I had a feeling that it was going to bring me bad news. I looked up breast cancer symptoms and the information I read kind of confirmed my case.

I didn’t want to tell my mom before I saw a doctor, because I didn’t want to worry her until I was certain.

On the 12th of March, I was speaking to a friend on the phone and I told her about my lump. She insisted that she should take me to an oncologist on the same day and so she did.

On the way there, I felt very nervous. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the possible “what if’s”. Millions of different scenarios kept running through my head. I felt a little better when we walked into the doctor’s clinic. He was a very nice and pleasant man, probably in his late 40’s or early 50’s. I didn’t get the negative vibe I usually get from doctors. He seemed to be very caring and attentive, unlike most doctors who’ve become merely human technicians.

He welcomed us into his clinic and had a bit of a chat with us before he examined my lump.

Dr. M asked about my age. When I told him I was 23, he looked at me and said “23? You have nothing to worry about! You start worrying about these things when you’re over 30, but let’s get it checked.”.

As he was examining the lump, I could tell by the look on his face that there was something wrong. He asked me if I had by any chance bumped my breast into something. My obvious answer was no (even the clumsiest person is probably incapable of doing that).

I asked him if there was something suspicious. He couldn’t give me a straight answer, but he asked me to get a breast ultra sound and a mammogram, and return to him no later than the next day. At that point, I knew that it was only a matter of time before the bad news came my way.

I woke up the next morning and went to get my scans done. I picked them up a few hours later right before my doctor’s appointment and there it said ‘BIRADS 5‘ on the report, but I couldn’t understand anything else.

The friend who had come with me the day before couldn’t make it on time to my doctor’s appointment. Another friend came along. We walked into the clinic and my doctor took a look at the report. He looked at me and asked if Dina was my relative. I told him that she was my bestfriend. He nicely asked her to leave the room for a couple of minutes.

He told me that I probably had cancer but kept reassuring that I had nothing to worry about. He also told me that there was a 5% chance that the tumor was benign. Honest to God, he didn’t scare me and was able to contain my fear before it surfaced. I had nothing to say. I had no questions. I couldn’t cry. Again, I was in shock. The same kind of shock I was in when my father died. I wasn’t even sure if I was scared. I felt very numb for a while.

He asked me to get a biopsy done immediately. I’m sure he had already known the result, but didn’t want me to live on false hope, even if it was for just one night. And so he referred a pathologist and I did the biopsy.

I got a tentative result on the spot. The pathologist confirmed my carcinoma.

Only 2 nights before my diagnosis, I was out having fun with my friends and now I’m being faced with a life threatening disease. Too many decisions had to be made. Too many people had to be informed. I kept thinking about my mom. I didn’t know what to tell her. I was too worried that she would break down.

It was all happening too fast.

I still couldn’t ask any questions. My friends (whom I thank very much for their support) could tell that I was completely zoned out, so they started asking all the obvious questions. They specifically asked about the stage of my carcinoma and the type of treatment. They even asked about the possibility of hair loss from chemotherapy.

Only when they started asking all these questions, everything suddenly hit me.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know when and how I should tell my mom.

I called my psychiatrist when I got to Dina’s house and he asked me to wait before I told her anything. Meanwhile, he referred a doctor whom he said he trusted very much. I went to see him the next day and that was probably one of the worst days in my life.

He was a typical doctor. Same vibe I got from almost all of them. He took a look at the report and examined my lump and then casually told me that I had to get a mastectomy within a week at most. I didn’t know what ‘mastectomy‘ meant. When I was at the pathology lab, Dr. M called the pathologist and emphasized that he had no intention to put me through surgery at this age. He said that I was going to do chemotherapy for a few months and then I’m done.

When he explained what a mastectomy was, I broke out in tears for the first time since my diagnosis. I told him that it wasn’t what my oncologist had in mind. He kept trying to convince me that chemotherapy prior to surgery is ineffective and that it would be a complete waste of health and energy. According to him, I had to operate eventually.

I waited for him to finish what he had to say and dashed out of his clinic in fury. I was frightened, angry and sad. I refused to believe him and I’m glad I didn’t.

To cut a long story short, I saw almost 6 doctors altogether. All in one week. They all said the same thing with different approaches. All the oncologists suggested chemo prior to surgery and the surgeons suggested the other way around.

A few days later I told my mom and I thank God that it went much better than I expected. She was shocked just like me, but didn’t break down. It took her a while to absorb the fact that her daughter was being faced with a life-threatening illness, but she stayed strong.

I eventually decided to proceed with treatment with Dr. M. My mom and I went to see him at his clinic and he scheduled my first chemo session for the next day (21st of March). Of course, I asked him about the nausea during and after chemo. He told me that the type of chemo drug I was going to take will not cause these side effects. I felt relieved.

The weekend before I was diagnosed

The only thing he asked me to do to prepare for chemo was to cut my hair as short as I can in order to avoid hair loss. Apparently the shorter the hair, the more resistant it is to chemo. I had very long hair back then, half way through my back. I really didn’t want to cut it but he kept insisting that I should. He also told me that I should look at wigs just in case my hair eventually falls out. I didn’t look much into what he said, I really didn’t think I would lose my hair, but I still cut my hair to stay on the safe side.

I couldn’t sleep all night. I wasn’t scared especially after Dr. M told me that I will not be experiencing the horrible side effects I read about, but I was anticipating. I still didn’t know what to expect. I’m not afraid of needles, so that was a good thing.

I got dressed when it was time to leave the house. On the way to the hospital with my mom and her friend, I kept thinking about my father. I kept thinking about how weak and helpless he looked during chemo and how painful it was.

They checked me into a room as soon as we got to the hospital. I had a blood sample taken right before the session in order to make sure that I was fit for chemo.

The blood test came out half an hour later and Dr. M was happy with the results.

He personally inserted the cannula into my left arm. He told me that we were going to use this arm because we will not be able to use it after surgery. I didn’t know I was going to operate eventually. He had told the pathologist that I will not be operating. For some reason, I still didn’t ask.

I stayed for around 3 hours in the hospital. I didn’t feel anything during the session. I was only sleepy because I hadn’t slept since the night before.

I went home and slept right away. I woke up in the evening soaking with sweat, even though it was really cold. I still felt really happy because I felt ok. I didn’t feel nauseated or tired. I took a shower and went to see a friend. When I came back home, I started to feel tired. I thought that it was lack of sleep, so I slept it off. I woke up the next morning with horrible nausea. I could barely walk and I certainly couldn’t eat. Even a sip of water made me want to throw up. I felt so helpless and that was when I called Dr. M. He told me to take a pill of Zofran, which is apparently a ‘breakthrough’ medicine in the world of cancer. It didn’t help. I called him again a few hours later and told him that I was still feeling really sick. There was obviously nothing he could do. Those were the normal chemo side effects. I continued feeling ill for 4 days. I was really snappy all the time. I had lost almost 3 kilos in just 4 days.

On the 5th day, I started feeling normal again. My appetite was back and I had a bit more energy. I went back to my normal life and continued seeing my friends and going out. I wasn’t scared or depressed. I just dreaded chemo. I also resented my oncologist for lying to me about the side effects. He didn’t prepare me. I wasn’t ready.

The day before my second cycle (2 weeks apart from the first session), I started noticing thick strands of my hair falling out. I had hair on my pillow, on the bed, on the floor, in the bathtub. My hair was everywhere. With the amount of hair falling out, I could tell that I was going to bald in a week at most. That was also something Dr. M hadn’t warned me about.

When I asked him about it the next day during my session, he urged me to buy a wig before I completely lost all of it. At that point, I had made peace with the fact that I’m going to lose my hair. It was inevitable.

I felt sick during the session. Half way through, I started feeling a metallic taste in my mouth. It was horrible. Nothing would make it go away. I tried sucking on lollipops, chewing gums, crackers… But nothing helped.

The nausea was terrible. I felt sick for 9 days this time.  It was only then that I could relate to what my father felt. I moaned in pain all night. My mother was heartbroken and helpless because there was nothing she could do.

I knew I had to stay strong in order to make it. I had to accept what I was going through. I’ve always known that chemotherapy destroys the body. I knew that it was a painful process but I thought it cured cancer.

On the 6th day, I forced myself to go get my head shaved even though I was really tired. It was starting to look ridiculous. That day, I went in to shower and walked out with an empty patch in the middle of my head and a receded hairline. My mom advised me to keep it and cover it with the rest of my hair, but psychologically, I couldn’t. I knew it was going to fall out completely and I hated this kind of anticipation. My mom took to me to buy a wig first, and then took me to the hairdresser. I couldn’t really look at myself in the mirror when the guy was shaving my head. It felt very weird. As soon as he was done, I put on my wig and went back home. I wasn’t a skin head yet, but only a few days later, the rest of the small hair fell out.

Before I lost the shadow

Even though I had bought a wig, I preferred to go out with my shaved head. I didn’t mind it. I thought I should make the best out of it. And of course, when I felt like having hair, I put on my wig. Even when I was buying it, I didn’t care if it looked natural, because I knew I wasn’t going to use it much. I must say it has been very amusing watching people’s reactions.

In my next post I will discuss what happened on my 3rd session and why I decided to go for alternative treatment. I will also discuss why chemotherapy is not considered a cure. It is actually believed to kill more than cancer.