Editor’s note: Following our September “Blackfly Q & A” about the shortage of personal support workers, we were contacted by a nurse who wanted to share their story anonymously. We chose to publish their letter but have removed all names to protect the privacy of everyone involved. Our deepest thanks to this healthcare worker for courageously sharing their story. My Story February 21st, 2020, I went on vacation to the Dominican and I came back before flights were canceled due to Covid. Things were shutting down everywhere. I had my appointment at a Barrie MRI department for a sore breast that had been bothering me. The front desk person who checked me in asked who my family doctor was, and I gave her the name. What she did not do was enter in that the results should go not only to my doctor but also to the ordering physician. The ordering physician’s office never got the results of the MRI and didn’t think to call the hospital to ask for them. Consequently, I never got a call.
The first week of May, I found out that it was a tumor, but they needed to do a biopsy to determine what kind it was. I knew I could not get in right away because of the panic over the pandemic. I was terrified and anxious – and with good reason.
I got a call from my physician saying it was Triple Negative Breast Cancer and it was very aggressive, stage 1 as it was 1.2 cm, but grade 3 aggressive (fast-growing, and high recurrence rate). I still hadn’t heard from the ordering physician. So, I heard bad news over the phone from my doctor. If it wasn’t for him, I would not have heard from the surgeon at all. He called the surgeon to remind them of the results and that they needed to call me. They apologized as best they could. I assume it was a mistake by their office staff. I asked for a prognosis, and they said they could not tell me because it was aggressive and not treatable other than with chemo.
So, I left the office with the intent to go home and deal with my death. I expected to not have much time left to live. I made calls to my friends and advised them that I could not see them because of Covid. I could not see my family either because I knew that if I got Covid I would miss the opportunity to have the tumor removed and possibly not get it booked again due to surgeries being canceled. The surgeon also booked me another biopsy because there was a lump in the other breast on the ultrasound. I had the biopsy done – but again the waiting game for results. I got the call a week later that the lump was a cyst and there was no cancer in the other breast.
Finally, I got a call with a surgery date for the removal of the tumor and sentinel node removal biopsy. I was so relieved and happy to have it done in Muskoka because they were canceling elective surgeries. I saw the surgeon again and they let me have my mother there, thank goodness, even though it was not allowed. But I could not see my kids or my grandchild at a time when I thought I would die soon.
After the procedure, the surgeon told me they got all cancer out and the surrounding tissue was negative for cancer, and I was going to receive the strongest chemo and radiation available. The first appointments were terrifying. I thought, “Why me? What did I do wrong in life to get cancer?” I am a nurse, and I am supposed to care for people, not have colleagues care for me.
During a consultation with an oncologist/radiology doctor, I had to make the decision of whether to remove both breasts or the lump only. If my genetic testing came back positive for BRACA genes, I would have to have both breasts removed because it would be even more aggressive. If not, I could opt for just the lumpectomy. I said, “If I am dying anyway, I don’t need breasts, so it doesn’t matter.” The doctor asked me why I thought I was dying. I explained to them that my understanding of my diagnosis was that I may not make it. They said, “No, you can live a good life with Triple Negative as long as you do the radiation and chemo. There is always a chance it will come back, but you have an even higher chance of surviving your cancer for a lot of years and living a long life.” It was them that gave me a sense of living again. I thank them so much every day!
I was scheduled for surgery to have a port-a-cath put in so that my chemo could be delivered through my veins via the port instead of veins in my arms or hand. I was prepped and an IV was put in to put me under. As I was getting my IV, the surgeon came to me to tell me that they were sorry, but they had to cancel due to an emergency. This was another blow because now I was at risk of not being able to get my chemo treatments.
If that wasn’t enough for someone to go through, I don’t know what is. But to make matters worse, a dentist appointment was recommended because I could not have dental work done while I received chemo treatments. I had a full set of 3D x-rays and the dentist said there was a mass in my sinuses. Sigh. He sent me to have a dental CT done but I had to wait a few weeks. Again, the waiting game and the worry that now the cancer is in my sinuses.
Meanwhile, medical supplies were being delivered to my home. Now I really felt like a patient and not a nurse. Sigh. Again, I thanked the medical team every time because I was so blessed and so thankful that they are willing to risk Covid to care for me. On the other hand, I was terrified of getting Covid from them. But some great news about my sinuses – it was a lump, but it was not a cancerous one. Thank you, Lord.
My last chemo was on October 22nd. Thank you, Lord.
Now I was waiting for one more surgery to remove the cyst from my other breast, but I needed to wait until I got my immune system back. I hated the thought that I was originally such a healthy person and now I was being doused with chemo and radiation. Sigh. I remember that I could not listen to any music on the radio because it made me cry. I missed my family and friends so much. I could not see them due to Covid and my immune system. So, I would just try to be very strong and just get through it.
So now I have completed all my treatments. I have to have checkups with the surgeon every 3 months and meet with the oncologist every six months. I also get a Zometa infusion every 6 months if my blood work is ok.
I am sure I have PTSD from the traumatic experiences. I was put on an antidepressant, and it helped me a lot. The best thing for me now is to eat right, exercise, and stay busy. I need to live life as best I can because I do not know if I will have a recurrence. At first, I lived life worried about every single ache and pain but now I am at the point of acceptance. If it happens, I will deal with it then. For now, I will live life and not worry.
After my treatments, I could finally see my kids and granddaughter. I cried like a baby all the way in the car to go and see them. But my biggest fears came true, and my little granddaughter, son, and daughter-in-law contracted Covid. My daughter-in-law was so sick. It was terrifying.
To this day, I still suffer some PTSD. I have huge respect for the healthcare community that did not give up on patients during a terrifying pandemic. And I have a real respect for those that went through any healthcare needs during the pandemic. But I also see the issues now that restrictions have eased up. Hospitals are backlogged and many cannot get timely surgeries or care that is desperately needed. People are still suffering from hospitals being overwhelmed and surgeons backlogged. I have a deep respect for those waiting for lifesaving surgery but are playing the waiting game like I did.
I hope this story helps people understand the importance of our healthcare system running smoothly. You don’t realize how important that is until you need it. I thank healthcare workers for all that you do and have done during covid. From one nurse who needed you most, you were there.
