Beneath It All (Beneath #1) (6 page)

“The Magnificent Mile is calling. We have a few hours before the stores close. Let’s do some window shopping,” I pleaded with him as we exited the building.

“Oh, really? The Mile is calling?”

“Yes, H&M, Michael Kors, and Burberry are all putting out signals for me to visit,” I stated emphatically. “Plus, I want to see the Historic Chicago Water Tower, and it’s all on our way back to the Drake. It’s a nice evening for a walk. The bitter cold of winter is coming, and we’ll be locked in our house like prisoners soon.”

“We need to make a quick detour to Garrett Popcorn first.” His mobile started to ring, and he looked down at the screen. “I need to grab this quick.” He winked as he stepped away from me to accept the call. Seeing he needed privacy, I moved to stand by the curb and waited for the light signal to turn. He was back at my side as the light changed, and we made our way arm-in-arm the few blocks down to Garretts.

We stumbled into our hotel suite a few hours later, our arms loaded with bags. Retail therapy had never felt so good, and Noah even managed to hit a few stores for himself.

After ordering room service, we changed out of our clothes and into something more comfortable since we weren’t planning to leave the room again until morning. Noah had picked up a bottle of wine on our way back to the hotel, and I poured myself a glass. I found the sound system and plugged in my iPod. After scrolling through my playlists, I selected “Lying in the Hands of God” by Dave Matthews Band and curled up on the sofa.

I heard the bathroom door open, followed by the sound of Noah’s feet as he made way into the room. He made a brief stop to pour himself a glass of wine before joining me on the sofa. He pulled my legs over onto his lap while he raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to an amazing day with an amazing woman. Cheers.” We both took a sip of our wine when my phone rang.

I didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID. “Hello,” I answered cheerfully.

“Victoria? This is Dr. Freeman.” Pause. “I’m sorry to call so late, but your results came in a short time ago and—”

I cut her off. “Wait, what? I was told it would take a few days before we got them back. I don’t understand.”

“Are you alone right now?”

“No, my husband Noah and I are actually in Chicago. We decided to get away for a few days to keep me occupied until the results came in. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your biopsy test showed that the lump you found is malignant.” She hesitated for a brief moment. “Victoria, you have breast cancer.”

I AM COURAGEOUS

V
ictoria, you have breast cancer.

My world stopped.

I went numb and could barely comprehend what she said next. “I’ve made an appointment for you Friday morning to meet with a general surgeon. His name is Dr. William Lauren. I went to medical school with him, and I’ve the utmost confidence in his abilities. I’ll e-mail you his contact information in case you need to reschedule the appointment. I have also taken the liberty of scheduling an appointment with a plastic surgeon that same afternoon. Dr. Lauren recommended him when we discussed your case. His name is Dr. Blake Forrester and he’s new to the practice but has an impeccable record.”

I sat in stunned silence as she continued talking. “I know you’re in shock right now, and I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of setting up these appointments for you. I wanted to provide some guidance for you and make this as easy as possible. Do you have any questions for me right now?”

What? Questions? About what?

“No, not that I can think of,” I replied with no emotion or feeling. I was numb.

“Okay. Please know that you can call me anytime if you have questions or concerns. I’m so sorry to be the one to share this news with you, but the fact that we caught it early is on your side. Try to get some sleep, and we’ll be in touch. Good night, Victoria.”

“Good night.” End.

I sat frozen, wondering what in the hell just happened.
Was this even real? What does this mean? Am I going to die?
Noah took the phone out of my hand and placed it down on the table. He scooped me up on his lap and softly caressed my hair, trying to comfort me. I didn’t need to say a word. He knew.

November 9 was the day I heard those words. It was the day my life came to a screeching halt, but it was also the day it was slammed into fast forward . . . was that even possible? I’ve been told fighting breast cancer is a marathon, not a race. Funny, I don’t remember signing up for either!

As the realization of my diagnosis sunk in later that evening, my emotions took me on a roller coaster ride. Anger, sadness, and vulnerability took over and a half hour later were replaced with determination and resolve; I was going to do anything I could to kick cancer’s ass and opened my laptop to do some research.

I walked over to the sofa and sat next to Noah, who was reading. “I’ve been doing some research, and I’m opting for a bilateral mastectomy,” I declared.

He quickly snapped his head up and looked at me. “Don’t you think that’s a bit drastic?”

“No, I don’t. I’m thirty-two, and let’s be honest—what are the chances that we will ever be able to have children after I’m done with chemo? We have at least a year of surgeries, chemotherapy, and possible radiation ahead, and my body will need time to heal.” I took a deep breath. “Plus, I don’t want to wake up every day worried about finding a lump in my right breast. The
what if
would drive me insane.”

Noah nodded his head at me in consideration. “I hear what you’re saying, and I’m not discounting it, because ultimately it’s your decision—but I really think we should get a professional opinion before you go announcing that you’re having a mastectomy.” He moved closer to me on the sofa and tucked me in under his arm. “Victoria, I’ll stand behind whatever decision you make; I just want you to make an educated one and not jump off the deep end before we talk with the doctors.” I knew he was right. I needed to understand what I was dealing with and was hopeful that Dr. Lauren would be able to give me some guidance on Friday morning.

The next twenty-four hours were a haze for both of us as we tried to ignore the elephant that was following us around Chicago. We spent time together, but also some time apart to clear our minds.

I called my parents and Jen to let them know I’d received the results. It’s not the way I wanted to tell them, but they needed to know. Jen offered to call our few close friends so that I wouldn’t have to repeat the story over again. I had never been more grateful for having her in my life.

Noah and I walked hand-in-hand around the Navy Pier, watching the people around us smiling and laughing. I looked out at the cracked and broken lighthouse that stood atop a rocky wall just out from the pier. It was run-down but still did its job as a beacon for ships seeking land.

We walked through Millennium Park and found our way to the Bean. The Bean is a large bean-shaped sculpture with a mirrored surface. Its curves twist and distort images, and I was brought to tears when I saw my reflection.
Distorted
. That was what would become of my body, or maybe it already had where the cancer was attacking me, only I couldn’t see it. That would change in a few weeks, when I would be left with nothing but scars to look at for the rest of my life.

Our flight home was quiet; we were both lost in our own thoughts. We barely spoke to one another; however, our hands stayed intertwined the entire flight. It was the only comfort we could offer each other. We both collapsed from exhaustion when we finally arrived home. Noah slept soundly, while I woke up several times during the night with my mind racing.

By morning, I wasn’t close to being rested, and it was a chore getting ready for the back-to-back appointments that Dr. Freeman had set for me. I just wanted to stay curled up in a ball and ignore the world.

Sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Lauren’s office was nerve-racking, and I found myself bouncing my knee up and down, which was not something I ever did. Noah noticed my odd behavior and placed his hand on my leg and began to gently massage my tense muscles. It helped to ease my nerves.

“Victoria Madison?”

And there was my name again. I was going to have to get used to hearing it frequently now. Maybe I should change it or use a fake one at each office. That would be entertaining; however, I’m sure the physicians’ billing departments and insurance companies wouldn’t be too pleased. The thought did make me smile, though . . . just a little.

We were led to an exam room, and I was provided with another lovely paper gown and . . . well . . . I knew the drill. Shortly after I got settled, Dr. Lauren tapped lightly on the door, and I noticed Noah shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Good morning, Victoria. I’m Dr. Lauren,” he stated as he shook my hand before turning to Noah. “And you are?”

“I’m her husband, Noah. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Noah said in his most proper and professional voice. He was in “attorney mode” and was going to listen to every little fact that came out of Dr. Lauren’s mouth. I could see the wheels turning in his head and knew he would be cross-examining the good doctor in no time. Poor guy didn’t know what was coming.

I turned my attention to the tall blonde doctor whose hazel eyes were looking sympathetically at me. “Dr. Freeman called me late in the day yesterday and explained your situation. I was happy to make room for you on my schedule since she’s a dear friend.”

He took a seat on the stool and flipped open my chart. “Now, let’s take a look at the findings from Dr. Frank’s report. I see you had quite the work up on Tuesday. Do you still have tenderness in the area?”

“Yes, it’s still a bit tender, and the bruising is getting more colorful by the day. Maybe it’s just in my head, but I feel a constant burning feeling in that area now,” I confessed and was sure he thought I was crazy. To be honest, I did feel crazy, and since hearing those four damn words, I had felt a constant burning sensation in my breast.

“Yes, I’ve heard several women say that. Though I can’t say I understand it, I’m told it’s a normal feeling.” He looked back down at the report. “It appears that the measurement of your tumor is estimated at just over two centimeters long, and it appears to be self-contained. We don’t see any ‘spidering’ or rough edges in the mammogram or ultrasound films. Dr. Frank also noted that he didn’t see any inflammation in your nodes, which is encouraging, but we will still do a sentinel node biopsy during surgery to be safe.”

“What’s a sentinel node biopsy?” Noah inquired.

“It’s a procedure in which we will inject a radioactive dye into the nodes under the arm of the affected breast prior to surgery. The dye travels to the sentinel node, which is the primary node, and will filter into others surrounding it, making them all a bright blue color, which allows me to locate it and the other primary nodes quickly during surgery. I’ll take between three and five nodes immediately at the beginning of surgery and send them to the lab for testing. If the results come back positive, we will take more nodes until we get the all clear. There is a higher likelihood that the cancer has spread to other areas of the body if the nodes come back positive. It will allow your medical team to be proactive in planning your course of treatment.”

I’m glad Noah was with me because I knew I would not be able to remember everything that was being said.

“There are two surgical options I would like to discuss with you,” he said as he motioned to me to move up onto the exam table. I quickly stood and stepped up to take a seat, hearing the rustle of the paper underneath me.

He held up a diagram as he spoke. “We can do a lumpectomy, in which I’ll make an incision and remove the tumor from your breast and a portion of the tissue around it. It will be sent to the lab, and they will determine if there are cancer cells in the surrounding tissue. If there is, then I’ll remove more tissue until we have clear margins. You will be stitched closed and will be able to go home later that day. If we don’t get clear margins or if the surrounding tissue is larger than anticipated, we will make the decision while you’re in surgery to do a single mastectomy to the left breast at that time.”

He switched to another diagram. “The second option is a single or bilateral mastectomy. This is a more radical surgery and will require at least a two-night stay in the hospital. The surgery generally takes close to three hours, and if you start the process of reconstruction, it will add an additional two hours. All of the breast tissue is removed, including the nipple, ducts, and areola.”

I quickly interjected in surprise. “The nipple and areola? Why?”

“Because the type of cancer you have is ductal carcinoma and it’s located in or on your milk ducts. Those travel to your nipple for nursing and need to be removed as well. If you decide to proceed with reconstruction, they can rebuild a nipple and tattoo the areolas for aesthetic purposes, but you will not have any feeling in them. For some woman that’s an issue. Are you planning on having children?”

“Eventually, yes, but isn’t that out of the question after chemo?” I questioned, feeling my emotions starting to overtake me.
Hold it together.

“It’s not impossible, but it’s definitely something you should discuss with your oncologist, because chemo can affect fertility.”

Noah cleared his throat. “So the chances of having children are slim?”

“I wouldn’t completely rule it out, but, as I said, that is a discussion best had with your oncologist and gynecologist. There are risks involved that they will be able to explain better than I can.”

He stepped over toward the desk to set the diagrams down. “A mastectomy is a very radical surgery and the recovery time is long, especially with reconstruction,” he warned as he washed his hands and reached for a pair of medical gloves. “Do you mind if I take a look at your breasts?”

I shook my head no and opened the gown. Modesty was officially out the door; I was pretty sure I would be flashing them to all kinds of strangers over the coming weeks.
Sigh.