Breast cancer: Tutorial #1 (My chest scars)

Breast cancer tutorial #1 (my chest scars) | My Fabulous Boobies
(a little map of my scars)
Alrighty gang!! Since its Pinktober, it occurred to me that it is a good time to go through a basic tutorial about breast cancer.

This will be the first in a series. I want to cover basic terminologies and give you guys an insight into my journey with breast cancer so that you understand just a little better what the pink ribbons really reflect. Off we go!

Wow... what are those scars on your chest?

Ha! This is what I imagine folks think when they see me wearing a shirt exposing my chest. No one has actually said this but I imagine this conversation in my head all the time.

I'm starting with a picture I took of myself while in chemotherapy. I usually post this picture as my profile picture on Facebook, just to show a little bit of what's behind the pink ribbons. In this picture you see three arrows and descriptions.

#1:  The first arrow is pointing to a small-ish scar that is about 2 inches long. (just above the white thing on the left side). That scar is from the incision where my port was implanted.

Breast cancer tutorial #1 (my chest scars) | My Fabulous Boobies
(this is my actual port that was in my chest)

Definition:  A port (or portacath) is a small device that is surgically implanted just beneath the skin on a cancer patient.

Chemotherapy drugs are very strong and can be very damaging to your skin and your muscles. By using a port, the chemotherapy drugs are administered directly into the blood stream. The port is connected directly to a major vein. From the patient's perspective, the port is easy and simple to use. It does not require any special treatment at all. You can bath and shower with it. The port reduces your risk for infection or burns from the chemotherapy drugs. The surgery to implant the device is relatively simple (I've been told) and does not require an overnight visit at the hospital. You're in and out in a few hours.

While getting my infusion one day, I noticed another patient with an ice pack on his arm while he was getting his infusion. I asked him what was going on and he told me that the chemotherapy was "burning".  At that moment, I was infinitely thankful that my oncologist insisted that I have a port. Imagine that you're tired, weak and frail. Your chemotherapy infusion might take 5 hours (mine did). Do you really want to sit there for five straight hours feeling a burning sensation in your body? So... ports are wonderful and that is why I asked to keep mine and I hold it every now and then to remember.

So... what's that white thing? 

#2:  The second arrow (just beneath the port scar) is pointing to my picc line. Basically, its a really narrow tube that goes between the IV bag that holds the chemotherapy drugs and my chest. Its just that simple. I wish I had a picture of that jumbo sized needle that's sticking out of the end of that "white thing". Good gravy! The first time I looked at it, I nearly passed out. (laughs) But... that's what it is called -- a picc line. (pronounced like pick)

And there is a little shadow by the third arrow... that's a scar too? 

(radiation burn -- I looked like this for weeks)
#3:  Finally, I wanted to point out my radiation scar. I admit, that is not a good picture of it. Instead of calling it a "scar", I probably should refer to it as a tan. Because that's what it looks like really. But, considering that I still recall what it looked like immediately following the radiation therapy, I know that it is not a tan but is in fact a scar. It is a square area of skin -- approximately 6 inches square -- that covers a portion of my chest and a bit of my side underneath my arm. (previous post about radiation therapy effects)

When I took this picture, the scar was less than a year old. And it was still significantly darker than the rest of my skin. Today it is about 3 years old and guess what? It is lighter than it is in that picture (but not much) and is still significantly darker than the rest of my skin. (bummer) However, I regularly massage the area with vitamin E oil and shea butter so, the skin is supple and not hard. Some survivors struggle with hardening of that area.
(smile! life is GOOD)


So.... there you have it. The map key to understanding some of my chest scars and how they relate to my chemotherapy treatment. There are more scars and such. I will explain those in another tutorial. (smile)

What do you think? Have questions? Please feel free to ask. Drop a comment below in the comment section... and let's talk about the journey behind the pink ribbons.

PS. If you feel that this post was helpful, pass it on please. If you think that it could use some tweaking, let me know. :)




*Disclaimer:  I have to make this clear. I am NOT a medical expert in any way. I am not a doctor, not a nurse, not a scientist at all. I am a survivor of stage 3a breast cancer. All the things that I describe in this blog are based on my experiences only. If you have detailed questions about your specific cancer experience, please seek trained medical assistance.*







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