My story
Where to start.
Well I suppose that’s easy. Buckle up – this will be a long one.
In October of 2014, I went to the doctor for my annual check up. All was well, no issues, no lumps. I asked my doc if now that I’m 41 I should start getting regular mammograms. She told me that “actually, they are now recommending that women without any family history or palpable lumps or issues can probably wait until they turn 50 to go for regular screening”. So I said ok then!!
December 2014, I got an email at work that the BC Cancer Agency was bringing a mobile screening clinic to UVic (where I work) and all staff, students, friends and family over 40 were welcome to sign up and come by. So I did. Just because I happened to have an open day.
The “clinic” was set up in the Business and Economics building’s boardroom. I remember joking with the technician that this was the most action I’d had in a while and she said “you have no idea how many times I hear that.” We had a giggle… the whole process took about 10 minutes and I was on my way back to work.
Eight days later I got a call from the Victoria General Hospital saying that they would like me to come back for more images. I had been there before – 5 years ago I had a benign fibroadenoma removed from my right breast. So I honestly wasn’t worried in the least. I figured hey – it must be the same thing, or scar tissue from my previous surgery. My first “moment” was when I walked in there, all cocky and sure of myself, and said exactly that – I’m not too worried about it, it’s probably just scar tissue – and the tech looked at me levelly and said “it’s your other breast.” I rapidly back-pedaled and said, “oh it’s probably just the same thing as last time then.” Then I looked at the screen.
It wasn’t big. It was actually really very small. But it was shaped differently. It was kind of like an hour glass, or a fat bottomed girl. Not the same.
I was sent directly into the ultrasound room, and then the radiologist came in and did a biopsy. I laid on the table watching the little lady dance on the screen – looked at every angle, asked about every measurement. The tech was pretty tight lipped – until I asked “that doesn’t look right does it” and she said “well, no.”.
I made an appointment to see my doctor the following week to get the results. Longest week of my life, or so I thought. I’ve since learned that waiting and time is all relative to how much or little you know about something.
Wouldn’t you know, when I went to the doc’s office, my results were not in. Well that’s not true – she had everything but the pathology. So she had the mammogram and ultrasound results, but nothing to indicate that it was indeed cancer. She promised me she would call me as soon as she heard either way, but indicated that I should be prepared for the conversation.
The next day, January 28th, 2015, I had to pick the kids up early to get them to the rink. As I was waiting to turn at the corner of Shelbourne and Feltham, my phone rang. Aidan was playing with my settings at the time, and just hit answer. I’ll never forget the next sentence I heard. “Hi Teri, it’s Dr. Skinnider, I just got the pathology back and it is in fact cancer.” No “Is this a good time to talk?” “Are you driving right now?” “Are you pulled over?” Just one stream of breath to tell me that my fate had taken a nasty turn, and that life as I knew it was never going to be the same. Did I mention my kids were in the car? All of this happened over the Bluetooth.
The next few hours were a complete blur – between calling my parents, meeting Jeff at the rink, settling the kids down…. I don’t even really remember what happened next. I got a phone call the next day from the nurse navigators at the BC Cancer Agency, who were so so so helpful. There was a lot of waiting. There was a lot of crying. On February 25th, I had a partial mastectomy and sentinel node excision, which resulted in a diagnosis of Stage 1, grade 2, ER+, PR+, HER2+ Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.