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I can still remember the first patient I diagnosed with breast cancer. She was a lovely Southern African American woman who moved from Virginia to New Jersey so she could be closer to her children. She was 50 years old and had no insurance. Therefore she was deemed a clinic patient, which meant it was up to the Internal Medicine residents to manage her care. This patient presented with a large palpable mass in her left breast. Being the Internal Medicine resident covering the clinic, it was my responsibility to diagnosis her condition. A history and physical exam was performed, along with lab work, a mammogram and a biopsy. All the tests came back, with the diagnosis of breast cancer. This lovely woman was my first patient, I ever told the diagnosis to, of breast cancer. This was over 24 years ago...yet it is still fresh in my memory. She was in the examination room along with her son and daughter. She was so proud of them both, boasting about how good and smart they were. I remember listening to her praises and dreading how this happy atmosphere would soon be clouded with sadness. I told her that I had all of her the test results. She sat up straight and tall and looked right into my eyes. I said, "I am so sorry...you have breast cancer." Both of her children started to cry...but she remained calm. She only let escape one slow tear. Then she said, "Ok what do we do now?" I could sense in her voice that she was ready to fight. It was up to me to present to her all the treatment options. After hearing all the options, she chose a mastectomy with chemotherapy.
With clinic patients, it was the resident's duty to inject the chemotherapy...so I would see her quite frequently. During these chemotherapy sessions we got to really know each other. She was one of the nicest persons I had ever met. After a few months of chemotherapy, during a routine examination, I noticed a lump overlying her sternum. I performed a needle biopsy ordered a bone scan and lab work. All the tests confirmed metastatic breast cancer. I watched her fight with this disease, enduring all the tests and treatments. She was a warrior. She truly affected me as a human being and as a physician. This incredible woman fought to live. But eventually, her body succumbed to the cancer. The chemotherapy was discontinued and pain management was prescribed. She passed away with her family at her side. After all of these years, I have never forgotten her...I often wondered, had she gotten into the health care system sooner, if she may have had a chance to beat the cancer. What I've learned from her and from women like her is that early detection does mean cure. We have come so far since 1987 in the diagnosis and treatment of breast cancer. I completed my residency in Internal Medicine and continued to pursue Radiology. In my career path, there were even more women I had to diagnosis with breast cancer. This has always saddened me to see breast cancer affect people's lives from a physician's eye. However, in 2008, breast cancer became even more personal for me, as a physician, as a husband, and as a father. I diagnosed my own wife, Peg, with breast cancer.
Peg was followed very closely with mammography being that she had a very strong family history of ovarian and breast cancer. Her mother died of ovarian cancer at age 54 and her sister Anni, of breast cancer, at the age of 40. Because of this family history Peg was adamant about her annual mammography screenings. Peg's personal history of having dense breast tissue always made it difficult to read the mammograms. When Magnetic Diagnostic Resources and St. Joseph's Hospital upgraded the MRI scanner to the bilateral coil for imaging both breasts simultaneously, I asked Peg to volunteer. Our Radiology department needed to calibrate the machine with the required breast protocols so it would be a win-win to be a "guinea pig" if you will, as we needed high risk woman to volunteer their anatomy. Looking back, I thank God I asked her to volunteer.
I was the physician covering the MRI department that day. I was her husband, the physician...of all women to tell they had breast cancer...telling my wife would be the hardest thing I've had to do. I knew as a physician she needed a biopsy to confirm the findings. After all it could be benign. My colleague performed the biopsy that very day. Two days later the pathology report came back and I told my wife that she had breast cancer. I watched my wife endure her battle with breast cancer including bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction and beat it. And I thank God because of early detection, she is cured.
Because Peggy's cancer was picked up on MRI and not mammography, I knew Peg's remaining sisters needed to get an MRI of their breasts as well. Her family's history and all her sisters having dense breast warranted this exam. Upon my insistence, Peg's second eldest sister, Judy, under went breast MR imaging in 2009 at Vanderbilt University. An area of abnormal enhancement developed which was biopsied and was positive for breast cancer. And then Judy underwent bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. I thank God, that because of early detection, she is cured. Kathy, Peg's third sister, undergoes annual mammograms and MRIs alternating at six-month intervals. She also had a BSGI given multiple areas of enhancement on the breast MRI. She is educated and aware to go for these exams because early detection does mean cure.
My fight for this disease is not only professional, but also personal. I am a father of two beautiful daughters ages 20 and 17. Per guidelines used at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, in Boston, MA, my children will start having breast cancer screening with annual MRI and digital mammography alternating at 6 month intervals beginning at age 25. They will have to endure the tests throughout their lifetime. I pray they will never be given the diagnosis of breast cancer. But there is also hope...because of the advancements in breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. Early detection does mean cure. I have a personal investment in fighting this disease for my family, for my friends, and for my patients in the CNY community. I cannot wait for the day that there is a cure for this disease. That is why St. Joseph's Imaging and I support the Komen CNY Race for the Cure.
I am asking all of you at St. Joseph's Imaging to please help me support the Komen CNY Race for the Cure. I believe in their strive, "to eradicate breast cancer as a life-threatening disease by advancing research, education, screening and treatment." In the time period from 1990 to 2005 the mortality rate from breast cancer has decreased by 37% according to the American Cancer Society due to major advancements in breast cancer awareness, education, diagnostics and treatments. The Komen CNY Race for the Cure has certainly played a big role in lowering that statistic. At St. Joseph's Imaging, we Image for a Cure!
Please join Peg, Becca, Abby and me on Saturday, May 18th for the Komen CNY Race for the Cure. Become a hero fighting breast cancer. Help raise the needed money so we can win this war on breast cancer! If you can't walk or run, we still want you to join us under the St. Joseph's Imaging - The Program tent. We need your help in educating the community about breast cancer and how St. Joseph's Imaging - The Program believes that early detection means cure...let's show how St. Joseph's Imaging wants to fight this disease for our families, for our friends, for the CNY community, and most importantly for each other....let's show how much St. Joseph's Imaging cares.
God bless,
David
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Please join us on May 18th, 2013
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