Where am I? Where am I going? - Breast Cancer

I laid on the hospital bed in radiology. One breast partially exposed, with the towel draped over a portion of it. The same towel that was used to mop up the excess ultrasound gel. One hand feverishly wiped at tears as I registered the news that the ultra sound tech had just delivered and the other hand lamely tried to keep the gown from falling open. Futile as it was considering I had been exposed already. The nurse had been out of the room now for 15 minutes at this point and I thought I could wait it out for the doctor to come in for his turn to take a look for himself, but I couldn’t. I thought of my brother, who just passed away.  Then I thought about my daughter.  What would happen to her if I died from cancer?  From Breast Cancer.

I chastised myself for crying and the fact that I had no real answers at this point.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed/table and reached to grab my phone from my purse. People were waiting to hear how it went. Not only would they want an update, but I felt the urge or need to reach out and not be alone, like I felt in that moment.

As I sent the final message to my fiancé the doctor finally knocked. Then back to the table so he could do another ultra sound. This time I was shown what they were looking at and what gave them cause for concern. Something about tiny dots and a black empty void (which is actually the problem area).  He also stated that it’s not the typical benign picture he would see when looking at mammograms and ultrasounds. More tears began to flow as soon as he said, "We will do a biopsy," and they were going to do it right then and there, if it worked with my schedule. How could it not? Why would I chance it and wait? After going through this with Jake, I realized that every second counted. He didn't think much about the bump on his back. It's not his fault, most of us probably would wait it out, but I learned not to wait it out. If it is cancer and it's aggressive, I need to be aggressive first.

I began to blubber about my brother to them and immediately felt embarrassed, but I couldn't stop the tears and the sobbing. I wanted to know survival rates because I felt like the doctors consistently evaded that question with Jake until it spread to his brain. This blubbering was followed by apologizing for blubbering, but the doctor and the tech never batted an eye and only offer comfort, the best they could. Once again, I’m left alone in the room while I send more messages to family and friends. Luckily, this time the tech is in and out of the room, setting up for the biopsy they are about to do, which doesn’t sound like something I’m going to enjoy. I’ve never had a biopsy before, but I ask if it will hurt. The Dr., before he left the room, compared it to a dental appointment. In hindsight, had I fully grasped that comparison, I would have been much more afraid of the anesthesia.

Before they begin, they have me a sign a form stating that they explained to me what they were going to do, which they did. I then laid back on the table. I closed my eyes, after the towels and drape were placed, and kept nervously moving my feet as they continued to prep me for a needle to puncture my right breast and numb the area. (Couldn’t they give me something to numb me from the numbing procedure?) It did not feel pleasant. It was painful. A couple of times sharp pain would hit, and the rest of the time strong pressure. I felt like the pain may have been worse because I was so afraid of the unknown. I wondered if I was more sensitive to the pain due to my hyper focus. Once numbed, the Dr. spoke of a clicking noise that might startle me when he actually took the samples.  Four to be exact. Then he went back to leave behind a marker clip. This marker would let them know where the biopsy had occurred. I cringed many times throughout and held my breath. When it was finally over, I could breathe again.

By that point, my breast had been pulled, squished, pushed on, and poked and prodded and now I was going to be going back to squishing after they glued my incision shut. This time they wanted to verify the clip was in place. And for some reason I needed to pee twice in an hour, which was odd. I made a few dumb jokes when given an ice pack. Something like, well it is the smaller of the two breasts, so the ice pack will fit just fine in the bra. (insert eye roll here). And another joke of the size of that breast and it really couldn't afford to take any more hits. (For those unaware, most women's breast are not symmetrical.)

After all of this, I get back to work after having finished my lunch and I’m exhausted.  I want to take a nap, but before the tiredness sank in, I took 3 ibuprofen because of the most horrid pain that coursed through me.  They didn’t really warn me about how bad that would feel.  Everyone is different, but man it hurt all the way to the other side, where they didn’t even go. My plan was to go right to bed after I hugged my baby and my fiancé, because I can’t let myself think about all the bad possibilities that might come out of this. Not today at least. And of course I still need to wait for the results. I'm hoping I end this story with good news.