.The year was 2008, if memory serves me right, it was the day after Thanksgiving- I was going for my very first mammogram. I had celebrated my fiftieth birthday in August and my doctor had decided it was time for a mammogram. Yes, I know they say start them at forty- my doctor had given me very valid reasons why that wasn't necessary. Then suddenly it was time, makes me wonder some times, but. Here it was and here I was, somewhat nervous because I had heard all of the horror stories about how badly it hurt. I wasn't worried about them finding anything, breast cancer didn't run in my family. Strange looking back how I thought that made me immune. I made it through the procedure fine, it was uncomfortable, it was embarrassing, but it was done. She told me that since this was my first and they had nothing to make comparisons to they might call me in for more images. If they did, don't worry- its routine.
I go home patting myself on the back that I finally had my mammogram and I could not mark that off my things to do list and move on.
Several days later I walk in the door after work to have my son telling me to call my doctor. They needed me to go in for more images. Well I had been warned so I wasn't worried. The day after Christmas, when everyone else was out finding the good bargains, my mother was in the reception area while there I was back in the clutches of the mangler. The plans were to get this out of the way and head out to do uor own shopping. I laughed and told hte same corny jokes I had told the last time, until I realized they only wanted images of the right breast. Odd that they only needed images from one side. She took a set of images, had me wait while they were checked.. a few more images and again I waited while those were checked. She came back and told me I could get dressed but that they needed to do an ultrasound. After I was dressed she lead me back up the corridor chatting about strange things- her chattiness was what had me concerned. Even my mother picked up on it. I tried to chat about going shopping and mom tried to chat about something I don't even remember but it wasn't working. By now we were both a bit edgy.
It wasn't but a few moments before my name was called and I followed another person down the corridor in the opposite direction from the mammogram. Entering the examination room she gave me my instructions and left. Stripping down to the waist I donned the paper vest and tried to ignore the coldness of the room. The rattling of the paper every time I moved quickly grew annoying. Thankfully it wasn't long before she was back, bringing with her the machine to perform the untrasound. I watched as she searched for whatever it was that had shown up on the mammogram. She found it fairly quickly as she returned time and again to the same area. I had no clue what she was seeing, it all looked like a lunar landscape to me. Finally she had what she wanted, I could get dressed and they would be in touch.
Shopping was no fun that day. Mom and I called it quits early and went home.
Odd how you can't lie to yourself. You can go on and on about how you aren't worried, you don't think they really found anything, nothing is wrong, no need to worry-- while all the while, worry is what you are doing. Not to mention just a tad past downright scared.
When the appointment was made for me to see a surgeon I had no idea once again- what was going to happen. I did manage to do what I'm best at-- I made a wrong turn onto the wrong road and had to turn around and go back to find the right road. Once I found the road I needed, then the office I found out that she was running late and I could reschedule if I wished. No, I was waiting, I wanted this over with. When I finally got back to be examined she brought in her own ultrasound machine. It took her mere seconds before she found what they had seen. She told me then the options of what we could do. First was a needle biopsy.
That is not an area that is meant for needles. When I say it hurt, trust me, it hurt. I was then told I could get dressed and they would schedule my appointment to come back for the results. I'm hurting, but I'm smiling and cheerful, still thinking this was nothing.
The needle biopsy showed what she called A-typical cells. That didn't mean I had cancer, but A-typical cells were usually present with cancer. That meant a surgical biopsy. I returned to work a bit shell shocked. I knew, even without the upcoming surgical biopsy- I knew. I had cancer. People were walking up to me and speaking and I was going through the roof. I jumped and sqeaked and squealed more that day than I have in a long time. People were really beginning to look at me oddly but I wasn't ready to tell, it wasn't confirmed yet. Even though I knew, I had to wait before I said anything. Finally I tried to find a quiet spot where I could gather my senses. I work in a specialty yarm manufacturing plant. I went to the far end of the department and was checking yarn when I began to pray- "Lord, I don't want this. I really don't want to go through this. Lord, I really, really don't want this." Clear as day I heard the words "How dare you?? How dare you not want to do this for me, after all I have done for you?" Being chastized by the Holy Spirit is no fun but it sure gets your attention. It also told me, what ever was to come, I wasn't facing it alone. I knew, no matter what, I was going to be okay.
My husband took me to have the surgical biopsy done. I was more nervous about problems with the surgery. Weird questions like, "what if they put me under, only I don't go and I can feel them slicing into me?" "What was the name of that old movie where people went in to have minor surgery but suddenly died.. oh yeah- Coma" I wasn't worried about the outcome, I knew what they were going to find.
When I went in for the results the surgeon brought someone in with her. Apparently she feared she would need back up. She told me calmly and plainly that it was cancer. It was small, but it was there. I shrugged and told her, you know what it is, you know where it is..lets take care of it. Her assistant left the room while the surgeon began to explain what was coming.
What was coming was an adventure I had never forseen. What was coming was an experience that I didn't want, but knew that there was a reason for it. What was coming, I would face, but not alone, never alone. Now- I had to tell my family, then everyone else.....
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