Cancer, Side Effects of Treatment, and Addiction

In February, 1996, at age 44, I decided my life had become unmanageable, and joined Alcoholics Anonymous. Helpful members advised me to get a physical just to check on what, if any, damage I had done to my body in the previous 25 years. Well, my liver survived as well as could be expected but, at 40 days sober, they told me I had a lump in my left breast. Now, I had just "turned my will and my life over to the care of God," so this seemed like a really mean practical joke. But, I did what I was told, and went to a meeting that night, eagerly seeking out another woman with whom to share my tale of woe. Well, God had another practical joke in store for me -- not one woman showed up. The person who had dropped me off was gone, so I couldn't leave. I was in a room with over 40 men. I went to pieces, sobbing and hiding in the back, until the chairperson noticed and said, "I think that girl back there has something she needs to share." Well, it turned out all right, the men were wonderful, if not entirely comfortable with the whole thing.

I had a lumpectomy the next day. The biopsy showed first-stage cancer, with an undifferentiated appearance (which means it was funny shaped and they didn't know why) and a lymphectomy now was required to see if the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes. The lumpectomy was a walk in the park, just a small incision and a few stitches. This other operation involved slicing open my underarm and, since they were concerned about the unusual appearance of the lump, removing more than 20 lymph nodes, which required going pretty deep. It was painful and involved weeks of recovery, along with requiring me to go home with a drainage device, which was uncomfortable, disgusting and annoying to tend to. This is also when I became addicted to Percocet.