Now, it is five years, the end of the trial, and I met with the radiologist who did the procedure yesterday. Next week, I meet with the oncologist and will then write the full story on cyroablation and how I fared. It’s 2020, four years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and four years since I’ve been free of it. I have never had an iota of radiation or chemo and recognize I’m in a very fortunate woman. I also recognize that cryoablation, the cure for me, is not the cure for everyone. But four years after beginning a trial for it and finding it successful, it’s my opinion that if breast cancer is diagnosed early, cryoablation should be considered an option. You have nothing to lose but cancer. Meet Dr. Kenneth R. Tomkovich, MD of Freehold, a diagnostic radiologist, a physician who studies hard, knows much, and can even explain things at a level anyone can understand. He’s also a physician who believes in learning about new procedures, researching the companies involved with them, and then participating in a nation-wide trial to see if one of them can become the next best cure for cancer. It was 27 days from the day in January, 2016, I had a routine mammography at Centra State Hospital in Freehold and met with physicians, surgeons, specialists, learned I had cancer, made the quick and easy decision and then became one of the first in the trial of cryoablation, freezing cancer cells with a needle insertion. The half hour procedure was done at Centra State, one of only 3 hospitals in New Jersey daring enough to find a cheaper, easier, less painful way to halt breast cancer. I reasoned at the time I had nothing to lose (but the awful cell); if it did not work, I could always resort to surgery. I remember thinking at the time there was a reason why I was participating in a trial. After all, I only decided to have that mammography in the first place because my insurance would cover it and Centra State would give me a coupon for 50% off a massage at Hand and Stone. (they still do that, for every mammography) . I was assured the procedure would not keep me from a scheduled tourist trip to Israel two weeks after and wouldn’t even keep me from driving 25 miles for a final meeting for that trip an hour or so after the procedure. I agreed to come back for mammographies and visits with Dr. Tomkovich once a year and keep in touch for five years so the results could be tabulated accurately. I eagerly signed all the papers because it all just seemed too easy and too good to turn down. It wasn‘t until after the procedure that I also learned that IceCure, the company that created the equipment, was an Israeli company and would love to bring me to their offices while on my trip to Israel. (Not only did they come to my hotel to pick me up, but I toured their office, met the entire staff, had a demonstration of the procedure I had undergone, then was treated to a sumptuous lunch at a magnificent restaurant on the Mediterranean before they brought me back to my hotel two hours from their Caesarea offices.) I DON’T BELIEVE IN COINCIDENCES. I BELIEVE THINGS HAPPEN FOR A REASON. Now, four years later, I’m even more grateful I agreed to the trial. The trial is ongoing, though now it’s just the tabulation of results, the readings of all the mammographies, and the comments of all the 500 women who have opted for cryoablation. The hospital no longer permits the procedure to be done there, since the procedure has not yet received federal sanctions. But Dr. Tomkovich, who naturally continues to monitor and meet every patient, also continues to do the procedure at his own office. He’s doing this with a sense of assurance…to date the success rate of no recurrence of cancer after the procedure is 99 per cent…..and he can also now do cryoablation on women younger than 65, the minimum age during the trial. He’s thorough in explaining to potential patients the equipment and procedure have not yet received federal approval. But he also can explain that if it doesn’t ‘work,” there’s still the option for other approved measures, including surgery. It will still more more than another year until I and others who tried it the first year it was available, can continue to be studied, the federal Food and Drug Administration can compile all the records, the ICE Cure firm in Israel can continue to meet its high standards and other significant and protective steps are taken before the FDA gives its final approval to cryoablation for breast cancer. In the meantime, four years of being free from cancer because of a trial procedure that I could watch but not feel, and knowing I am contributing to what could be a reduction in surgeries, angst, pain, radiation, and chemo for thousands of women, is pretty heady and wonderful stuff.

If you know me at all, or ever heard me talk over the past almost five years, then you already know I had breast cancer. And you already know I opted against surgery, but rather decided to take a chance on the excellence of a radiologist in Freehold, Centra State Hospital, both of whom were willing to try cryoablation as a means of curing breast cancer without surgery. At the time, my oncologist and the radiologist both told me it was a gamble. They felt assured the procedure would work just fine, but they explained it was on trial, a woman had to meet certain specifications in order to be in the trial, and I met the specifications. Did I want to try it? The radiologist explained everything to me; actually, he had me sold when he said it was ‘minimally invasive.” What he meant, and what happened, was they simply numbed my skin, and guided by an ultrasound, he inserted a little probe directly into the tumor. The liquid nitrogen in the probe created sub-zero temperatures which turned the tumor into an ice ball, freezing the cancer to death and not bothering anything else. After the half hour procedure, the doctor put a band-aid over the little hole the needle had made, and I simply got up off the table, got dressed, thanked my new friends, and met some friends for lunch an hour later. For the medical team, it was science being proven. For me, it was an entire new appreciation for medical people and trials to create new and better treatments for cancer. So then I needed to know who made this new kind of magic and learned it was a small very young company in Caesarea, Israel, and they had offered their invention to the United States and many other countries for trial and ultimate approval. They have an office in New Jersey and Centra State Hospital was only one of 17 hospitals across the country involved in the trial, which would ultimately be five years long. I was the third person to undergo it. Next month, it will be five years since that Feb.2 morning that I watched on his computer screen as Dr. Tomkovich calmly conducted this very simple, painless and non-invasive (I don’t consider a needle in my skin a real invasion) procedure that left me free of cancer in less than half an hour, just 47 days after I first learned I had cancer. So it’s been five years since I have been high on praise of this very young but very vibrant and intellectual company on the Mediterranean Sea in Israel. Follow this blog in future weeks. I want to talk more about the procedure itself; I’ve already spread the story in many newspapers, but want to share it again, just in case you missed the magic of Ice Cure. I want to tell you more about how I discovered the tumor in the first place, why I opted to do a trial, how I learned more about the procedure and the company that made it, and how my life has definitely been enriched, blessed, and more exciting because of two doctors, a hospital and a company in Israel.

It’s quite a story. Full of coincidences, a new invention, a forward thinking radiologist, a medical center that has the integrity and strength to offer its patients an economical and painless alternative to surgery, a private physician who suggests, explains, and urges a woman to review all options, a surgical oncologist who explains everything in simple detail then encourages a patient to make her own decisions, an international meeting, a team of young, bright, intelligent Israelis who are on the cutting edge of tomorrow’s cancer cures. And me. I’m part of that story!

And it all started with a special sales offer for a body massage at Hand and Stone on Route 33 in Howell. That’s the embarrassing part.

At 79 years of age, a widow of nearly ten years, mother of four, grandmother of nine scattered around the country and great grandmother of six, I had not had a mammography in four years. It was my decision that I did not need them anymore. After all, I had survived the death of my husband ten years previous after a wonderful 51 year marriage, the death of my oldest daughter three years ago, and a serious stroke two years ago. I had been fortunate enough then to get swift medical resolution for the stroke, was diligent in all the physical therapy required, and followed it up with a new physical health regimen at Centra State Medical Center’s Health and Fitness Center. My three times a week regimen there with trainer Jeanine Palmieri made me fit and healthy enough to continue living a wonderful, active life. Life is pretty terrific.

And that was my feeling in early December, 2015, when I read one of numerous flyers Centra State routinely sends out to the folks involved in any of their programs. Coincidence number one. I rarely read their ads, but this one was different. I was attracted by the big print for $50 off a massage or facial at a leading spa if I had a mammography at Centra State. What a deal, I decided! A cheap luxury hour or so just for letting my insurance pick up the tab for a test I really should have been having more regularly.

The swiftness and ease of making an appointment, the luxury of heated terry cloth robes and caring hospital staff for the procedure, the skill and care of the technologist who did the mammography all made the squeeze worthwhile, a very small part taken out of one of my busy days. I wasn’t even concerned when I got the call the next day to please stop back at the hospital for another look; the radiologist may have seen something he wanted to investigate further. A follow-up ultra sound showed that little thing they thought they saw really was there.

Next step. A biopsy to see if it was cancer.

My primary care doctor is the one who strongly suggested I meet with Dr. Mary Martucci, breast surgical oncologist and medical director of the Star and Barry Tobias Women’s Health Center.….have I said what a wonderful place that is? Meeting Dr. Martucci explains why. Tall, elegant, loaded with both experience and a strong medical and surgical background, Dr. Martucci is also soft, gentle, warm and caring. She actually likes her patients and shows it in every word and action.

So gentle and caring she is, in spite of her efficiency and obvious professionalism, I was beginning to feel sorry for her. Don’t worry, I advised; things are happening pretty strangely; there are too many coincidences, so there must be a reason. I ticked off the coincidences….I have only lived in Freehold for nine years and had never been a patient at Centra State; I recovered beautifully from a stroke because of fast action in another hospital and follow up physical therapy at Centra State’s Health and Fitness Center; without that, I would never have gotten the ad which changed by mind from never having another mammogram to scheduling one, admittedly only to get the discount on a massage. I’m a writer by profession and a strong believer in the fact that nothing happens by coincidence. Ergo! The only news I would get from a biopsy is that I had breast cancer and there was a very definite reason for it. Don’t fret over having me come in for an appointment to give me the news, I assured Dr Martucci; just give me a call on the phone when the results of the biopsy come in.

It was Nov. 25, two days after my 79th birthday, when Dr. Ann Hughes, the interpreting radiologist for the Star and Barry Tobias Women’s Health Center at Central State Medical Center, wrote to let me know my mammogram showed a finding “that requires additional imaging studies.”

The radiologist sent the same information to Dr. Robert Pedowitz, my general practitioner, who immediately called me. He wanted me to see Dr. Mary Martucci, the medical director and surgical oncologist at the Women’s Center. I’m not saying it’s cancer, he cautioned, simply that he would like an oncologist involved right from the get go. Just in case.

A wise man, my GP, and the meeting with Dr. Martucci was set up almost immediately, giving me the opportunity to meet and talk with this kind, caring, and knowledgeable physician.

An ultrasound was scheduled for the first week of December, to be done by Dr. Kenneth Tomkovich, the interpreting radiologist. Dense breast tissue, the mammography had shown, common, not abnormal, but sometimes making it harder to find cancer on a mammogram.

The ultrasound was also done at the Women’s Center, with Dr. Tomkovich doing the procedure and positioning me, at my request so I could watch the probe entering my right breast on the ultrasound screen. It was quick, easy, painless, and over in a matter of minutes.

I’m not a physician…barely even able to pronounce the medical terms. But on the screen I could see this funny-shaped little black blob at almost 12 o’clock in my right breast. I remember thinking, “so that’s what cancer looks like.”

I was neither in shock nor in fear. If it is, I reasoned, it’s small enough and visible enough to get it taken care of. Now. Before it got too big to handle. The radiologist confirmed it in a letter the next day; I had “an abnormality that requires a biopsy.”

The biopsy procedure was set for Dec. 17, As we had agreed, Dr. Martucci called me Dec. 18, as soon as the surgical pathology report was in. “I’m sure it’s cancer,” I had told her, “I don’t believe in coincidences, and there’s some reason why I read the ad about that discounted body massage.” No need to have me come in the office, I reasoned, “just give me a call.”

She did. And in her soft, yet firm, authoritative and knowledgeable voice, the surgical oncologist said, “well, the results are in, and you do have an invasive duct carcinoma.” It was Dec. 18. The doctor explained she wanted me to come in the office anyway, and discuss it further. The next day. I agreed.

Feelings of fear? I had none. I was grateful for that mammogram, perhaps a bit irked with myself I had not had one in four years. But I was confident this medical team of private physician, surgical oncologist and radiologist who had rallied around me so quickly knew what they were doing, wanted to get it done, and they would soon have me cancer free. I also knew there was a reason for all of this, and as a writer, I felt the reason was to spread the word about the importance of regular mammograms. I looked forward to seeing Dr. Martucci again.

The shock came when I went into the conference room at the Women’s Center…..I was beginning to enjoy the neat, cozy waiting room, the hot coffee and tea service, the friendly women at the reception desk. I laughed to myself at the two ‘abstract’ paintings on the wall; with all their squiggly lines and circular patterns they kind of looked like the ultrasound of my breast.

Dr. Martucci brought me into the conference room herself, but we weren’t alone. Seated were Dr. Tomkovich, the radiologist whom I had met at the biopsy, two of his nurses, Dr. Martucci’s nurse, and Melissa Olsen, another sweetheart of a gal whose title is “Cancer Navigator.”

Martucci, the surgical oncologist, took the lead.

She read the formal surgical pathology report, the final diagnosis, the biopsy procedure which determined it and the clinical description of what was found and how. But then she put it into my language…she drew a picture and spelled out the meanings of all the words she had used…invasive…ductal…carcinoma….grade…HER2, lobules, ducts. I was feeling more at ease by the minute, and knowing somehow, she was a far better surgeon than she was an artist. Van Gogh and Manet could remain secure; Mary Martucci’s talent is in medicine and surgery!

When she finished, Dr. Martucci explained I had two options: she could put me under anesthesia, do a lumpectomy, meaning take the tumor out surgically, let me go home later the same day, and do some follow-up as needed.

Then she turned the lead over to Dr. Tomkovich. Not as warm and fuzzy as Dr. Martucci, but reassuring in his own self-confidence, Dr. Tomkovich launched into a clinical description of everything he could do.

He explained he was involved in an investigational trial, the Women’s Center at CentraState was the only hospital in New Jersey involved, along with only 16 others in the nation. His procedure, he said, was called cryoablation, which meant simply smearing a bit of anesthesia on the area, inserting a needle, freezing the tumor, covering the puncture made with a band-aid, then sending me on my way. About 45 minutes, he estimated. And I come go about the rest of my day as planned. The trial had a specific audience: a woman had to be over 65, the tumor had to be invasive, and had to be less than 2 cm in size. I met all the criteria and would be an excellent candidate for the trial.

So that’s it! I said to myself. The reason for the cancer, for all the coincidences, for the discovery. I was meant to be a part of a trial and tell the world about it.

Although it only took me seconds to decide I’d rather have a needle insertion under a local numbing rather than a knife insertion and surgical removal under general anesthesia, both doctors wanted me to ask more questions, think it over, talk to my family, sleep on the decision.

I did, and the next morning, my decision was still the same. Cryoablation would be the only way to go.

Like myself, my children were unafraid, excited I wanted to be part of a trial, and in agreement with my decision. No need to tell anyone else until the cryoablation was completed and the cancer was gone.

Regardless of which method I selected, the physicians and nurses explained, I would still go through the hospital’s protocol for procedures….a chest X-ray, blood work, EKG; later there would be meetings with a medical oncologist, a radiation physician, a bone density procedure. Centra State goes out of its way to ensure every precaution is taken to protect a woman’s health and her ability to undergo procedures safely. Melissa, ‘the cancer navigator,’ escorted me through the preliminary tests, and within an hour or so, I was ready for cryoablation.

Little did I know that in 47 days I would be cancer free.

It’s probably safe to say I am one of very few people who is not fearful of keeping an appointment with my oncologist. I feel very secure in thinking he will tell me everything is fine, continue to enjoy by everyday life and he’ll see me in another six months.

I feel this security after having breast cancer discovered in December, 2015 during a routine mammography. That led to meeting with a radiologist at Centra State Hospital in Freehold, NJ, Dr. Tomkovich. This thinking-out- of-the-box radiologist and my oncologist who told me about the breast cancer asked if I would participate in a trial, a trial that could be done immediately, but with results not conclusive for five years. Since it was a simple procedure, eliminated the need for either breast surgery or a mastectomy, and would not mean any stay in a hospital and only a 45 minute disruption in my daily schedule, made it easy to say, ‘Sure, I’m game.”

The procedure was cryoablation, not yet approved in this country, but undergoing trials by Dr. Tomkovich and Centra State and only a few other hospitals across the nation. Essentially, the doctor inserted a needle in my breast, the needle (not my breast) was filled with a freezing gas, and while watching on the computer, (which I could see as well) the doctor inserted the needle directly into the tumor. The frozen needle actually froze the tumor to death. It then shriveled up and went away, like any dead tissue in the body. That was it. Twenty-seven minutes of meeting some pretty fine people, getting a bandage put on the spot where the needle had been inserted, and leaving with thanks to all. Leaving also with a sense of exhilaration. I actually got to see that cancerous tumor shrivel up and die.

That was five years, six months ago. For the first five years, I visited both Dr. Tomkovich, the radiologist who worked the magic, and Dr. Belar, my oncologist who agreed I did not need either chemo or radiation. Both just to be sure things went along smoothly.

In February, when I went for my five year exams, everything was exactly as we all thought it would be. No cancer, no return of anything, no problems, no side effects, no nothing.

However, Dr. Belar is ever the cautious and close-watching oncologist. So he’s insisting I continue to come back for a routine visit every six months. It’s scheduled for this Friday and nothing is different from how everything has been for five and a half years.

But I love the concern, I love the care, and I love the fact I participated in a trial that is now making life easier and less fearful for some breast cancer women. Friday, I’ll let you know when my sixth anniversary appointment will be, and what happened in this one at five and a half years aft-er cryoablation.

For women who have had breast cancer, have had lumpectomies or mastectomies, it is probably difficult to believe. But five and a half years after I was diagnosed and had cryoablation, I still feel guilt and perhaps a bit of shame when I stand among you and say I had breast cancer.

Why would I feel guilty? Simply because my cancer was diagnosed early, was a small tumor and 47 days after I learned I had it, it was gone. No surgery, not miracles, no chemo, no radiation. Simply about an hour’s inconvenience in my life and a big band aid on one side of my breast for a couple of days. Oh yeah, perhaps a little black and blue for a week or so.

I was fortunate to be living near Centra State Hospital in Freehold, NJ. and the hospital has not only a spectacular Women’s Center with caring staff, but a radiologist on staff who believes a physician should keep up with latest studies, technology and common sense. Enter Dr. Tomkovich, a radiologist who had already traveled to China and Europe both to learn and to teach, and who was willing to participate in a trial for yet another innovation, cryoablation.

The doctor went out of his way to explain everything to me; the Women’s Center physician drew me a picture of precisely where and how large the tumor was. They both explained the process, gave me options of cryoablation or lumpectomy and left the decision making up to me.

It was a simple procedure. And I could watch on the same monitor screen the doctor was watching. Ice Cure is the company who designed the procedure and Dr. Tomkovich explained there were not going to be any foreign materials at all placed in my body. The needle would be filled with liquid nitrogen, and that frozen mixture actually stays inside the needle, not released into my body at all. The liquid nitrogen freezes the needle, which, watching the ultrasound screen, he then inserts right smack into the middle of the tumor. It was really exciting to watch.

I could see a little ice cube form all around the tumor, and then I could watch as the tumor shriveled. Seven or eight minutes. Then a wait of a few minutes, then a second frozen needle insertion just to be sure. The doctor had perfect aim, thanks to a steady hand, I suppose and the modern and up-do-date equipment that let him see exactly what he was doing.

As took the needle out, cleansed the area and put a band aid over the tiny speck on the tiny opening where the needle had been injected, Dr. Tomkovich explained the tumor would continue to shrivel up and die, and then would slough out of my body, just like every dead cell does every day.

And that was the end of it. Sure I had a little swelling, I think I remember a little bit of an ache. But they didn’t last for long and they did not interfere with anything. In fact, I attended a luncheon meeting an hour after leaving the hospital, and I went on a planned trip to Israel two weeks later for walking tours of historic sites.

I went back to the radiologist and oncologist for regular visits, more because I was part of a trial rather than I needed to see the doctors, over the next five years.

I agreed to take the anastrozole every day the oncologist insisted I take for five years. And yes, I continue to take it now since he suggested studies show it’s effective if taken over ten years. It’s inexpensive, has no side effects easy to take, so I agreed.

So can you understand why I feel guilty?

I have never had the pain, the anguish, the decision-making, the angst of women who have breast cancer that upsets their lives, possibly changes their shape and causes them grief and anxiety. My only pain is in the guilt I feel when people look at me and sympathetically say, “oh, you’ve had cancer? Poor thing. How are you dealing with it?”

I was overjoyed to see that IceCure Medical is now trading on Nasdaq so it’s possible to buy shares in this incredible company that certainly thinks out of the box! Of course it’s a risk….isn’t all stock buying a risk?…but because it’s a new procedure and new on the US market,, it’s inexpensive right now but could mean a really great investment for the future. I wanted to get shares only because I wanted a piece of the company that saved me from surgery, radiation, chemo, and so much more.