“Do you feel that, there?” The doctor asked me carefully, while I lay on the exam table.
I was in a precarious position in my yearly exam with my arm over my head. My mind went from hoping there wasn’t too much embarrassing anxiety sweat for her to deal with, to complete process overload of what she just said.
“Uh, yeah.” I replied, a little taken aback. I’d been focused on the ceiling tiles above me, retreating to my happy place, when everything seemed to go blurry for a moment. I wasn’t breathing anymore. There was a lump just off center, on my right breast. How had I missed it?
So, yeah. I just wrote the word “breast”. It’s a little toe-curling, and has an unpleasant ring to it because it’s such a serious word. So anatomical. I’d rather use the word ‘bewbie’, or something else equally dumb if I’m being totally honest, because I cope with irreverent humor.
“Is this normal for you? Do you know how long it’s been there?” She asked me.
Is this actually happening?
“I’m not sure,” I stammered. Still reeling, trying to rack my brain.
“You do your monthly checks, right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, a little dumbfounded that I hadn’t been more thorough. I mean, I check, in the shower via some antiquated illustration I saw once in some women’s mag my mom showed me. When I remember, I wanted to add. My own thirteen year old is more self-aware than me. I’d just taken her in for a spot she was concerned about, and here I was, splayed out on the table feeling like a complete idiot.
But let’s rewind for a second. Because I’d put this doctor’s appointment, along with all my others, totally off. I’d been ‘too busy’ to come in. I know. Go ahead and eye-roll. I run my own business. I’m swamped with deadlines and projects, and Jamin and I were too overwhelmed shuttling our own kids to the orthodontist, dermatologist and regular health checkups to do our own appointments. Let’s not forget the dog – she just tore her ACL and received her very own plasma treatment. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately with some ridiculous things I’d like to pretend aren’t happening. And now I was catching up with all things doctors’ appointments: a necessary inconvenience so we can all make sure we’re not dying. Isn’t that what it comes down to? Both a luxury and a total first world problem. A real catch-22.
As far as these particular lady doctor checkups are concerned, I’d been all one-two, skip a few, APOCALYPSE, and I’d fallen behind on everything. It was to the point where I felt shameful about it. From the dentist to the dermatologist, I just hadn’t been.
We scheduled the mammogram for the following day. I shook from a combination of cold and nerves beside the machine, trying to shut out horror stories I’ve heard in the past, since this was my first. As soon as I walked into the room, I’d burst into tears. I apologized while the radiologic technician gently talked me through each step. She asked me questions about my kids. I asked about hers. Just two humans, in this awkward situation. This is something that happens every day, I told myself.
I asked lots of questions while they completed an ultrasound, afterwards. I froze when they found something else on the screen. They were straight with me: You have dense tissue. This is probably just that. But one edge is suspicious and we need to make sure. They gave me an option: Biopsy or wait and see.
I went with my knee-jerk reaction, and opted for biopsy. The radiologist immediately told me that was a wise choice.
I couldn’t help but wonder what her immediate response would be if I’d chosen ‘wait and see’, like a Choose Your Own Adventure book. But know thyself, and I wasn’t willing to wait. I’d come this far. It was a short wait vs. a longer one. Rip off the proverbial bandaid and nuke it early, fight hard if it’s actually cancer.
Of course I lost sleep, because the next morning I was convinced I was making a mistake. Another doctor called and followed up with more information, and more praise. “Wise choice,” they kept saying. Chances are this is nothing. But they need to make sure.
It wasn’t lost on me that it’s breast cancer awareness month. It’s like that moment when someone mentions a yellow car and then all you notice for the next few weeks, are yellow cars. I thought of all the women I know that have boldly gone before me, and received not-so-good news. Friends shared their testimonies on social media, of their mothers’ experiences, and their own. Women battling it now. Women in the news newly diagnosed and fighting stage 4. There are no words. They’re so brave.
The worst part, is the waiting.
I tried to be present with our children at the dinner table while my kids told us all about their day. To bury myself in work and choose the perfect paint color for a client. I tried to remind myself that the little things still matter, even when it feels like they really don’t. It’s a struggle to remain composed when you just want to cope with a well-timed trip to Italy to escape reality. I withdrew and isolated myself because I didn’t want to be anxiety girl in public. Then the anger came, along with little feelings that crept into the edge of my daily life while I tried to grasp normal. Because as minor as this seems, it was a big deal to me.
I even had a little bit of that brain-washed southern guilt that told me “This is what you deserve” like I’m living in some real life cautionary tale. We dangerously try to rationalize the things that are happening to us, like there’s a hard and fast set of rules to follow. I feared that this is the price I have to pay for putting my health on the back burner. I’d made time for hair appointments and yoga class. Why hadn’t I checked in with something so basic as the doctor? Shame is a dangerous, often unnecessary feeling that creeps in and dominates our lives in little ways, if we’re not careful.
Tuesday was the day of the biopsy, and while it was intimidating, they handled me with grace and kindness. They talked me through it. Answered all my questions. Coached me through the small burn, the needle, the startling staple-gun click. No biggie, I just kept telling myself.
The phone call came late Friday afternoon when I’d assumed I’d have to wait through the weekend. There was a pause while she pulled up the results and my heart nearly leapt through my throat while I tried to breathe: It’s quite insane to think that in the simple moment like a phone call, everything can change. The results are a fibroadenoma, which means it’s benign. They’ll make a plan and monitor from here. But in the meantime, I’m good. I’m not taking it for granted.
Why did I just take you all the way through this frustrating narrative of the sleepless nights I was put through, for the last 2.5 weeks?
These are the things no one really shares because they’re honestly just an unpleasant part of life. I thought that maybe if I could help one person feel a little less alone and ‘normal’ it was worth sharing it all here. Writing is my greatest form of therapy, so here I am clacking away on the keyboard in the early morning, thinking there’s a chance no one will actually see this if I never hit ‘publish’. But here we are.
It’s been a while since I’ve been personal here because I’ve been battling a lot of things behind the scenes, just like everyone else. We all tend to only share our highlight reels and Instagram best. But I decided that sharing is important, even if it includes the word breast. It feels a lot like “Do Not Pass Go Do Not Collect 200 Dollars” a-la Monopoly, when you’re waiting. Sometimes it’s a long exasperating process, but an important step because we only get one body. One life on this earth.
So, I’m sharing in case someone needs to hear this. Don’t put it off. Make the appointments, if you’re able. For your own peace of mind. For the love of yourself and your loved ones. Get a physical. Do the blood panels. Let the dermatologist check your moles. Do the swab with the stirrups which are horribly uncomfortable when they tell you to ‘scoot down a little more’, one more time. That was a lot of stress that I had go to through, and it would have happened anyway, whether I put off the appointment, or not. But I’ve been on a health journey for the last few months, from eating better to getting all my checkups in because I’d put it off for so long. So take back your own narrative and empower yourself. Shame is a dangerous emotion that can really hold us back and take over everything, if we’re not careful.
Know your options. Ask the questions. Do the thing.
To simply live life every day without the stress of health issues is a DAILY gift, and an actual freaking luxury. Going through something small like this is nothing compared to what others have endured. I know that I have so much to be grateful for. But I also don’t want to minimize the importance of just checking in, even if it’s uncomfortable. It’s been a huge, jarring reminder of an emotional rollercoaster for me, not to take the little things for granted. And I’m sincerely grateful.
We’re all human. We’re all just living here, one day at a time, breathing through it all. How many times do we get irritated with someone on social media, angry with a stranger in traffic, or even a friend? Cancel culture is dangerously rampant. We’re so busy judging everyone with our finger on the trigger, it’s exhausting. So how often do we neglect to think about what’s really going on behind the scenes in someone else’s life? How often do we pause to think about how we can change our own perspective?
These last few years with the state of our world, along with the way I was treated over these past few weeks, have been a poignant juxtaposition for me. From the few friends I actually told about this, to professionals who handled me with dignity and empathy, thank you. You’re a balm to the soul, walking me through this one moment at a time.
I was a bit breathless on the phone with that woman who was able to deliver some happy news, which I know doesn’t always happen, for her. I fought through tears to tell her what I felt was important. I said, “You hear a lot of horror stories in these situations, about the way people are treated. All of you were so gracious and patient with me. I can’t tell you how much that means. Thank you so much.”
She said they don’t get to hear that very much.
So, handle with care. We’re all just doing the very best that we can.
photo by light by iris
Oh you have me crying! So thankful that it is benign! Thank you for sharing your story. I also rarely get personal but you’re right – doing so can help so many people feel less alone.
Thank you so much for your sweet words, Mary. It’s just hard. All around. Hugs, sweet friend.
Thank you for sharing. Every woman needs these reminders. So many women (and men) put off their annual exams. I schedule my mammogram six months prior to my annual. My OBGYN said that is a great schedule because I (they) have eyes on it twice a year. I also have dense breasts (hard to write such a private word) but if one other reader reads this it’s worth it. I joke with my girlfriends how can I have dense breasts with double a’s ;0) laura in Colorado.
Oh my goodness Laura – this is a really good tip. Thank you. I was so scared to share this at all, but it really is helpful to talk about it. I can’t truly explain how stupid I felt laid out on that table, when the doctor pointed out something so obvious. It’s just scary. Hugs to you – So glad you’re okay.
I’ve been through that ordeal. My first mamo the one that was supposed to be the baseline showed something. Yah that lump has been there for years, yah it’s been more uncomfortable lately. Ultrasound still had them concerned. The radiologist took me back to see the scans and said if you were my wife, daughter, sister, or mom, I’d tell you to do the biopsy.
My knee jerk was different. I’m too busy for that, I’ll call later. Later ended up being after lunch the same day. The biopsy was scary and painful. The wait was horrible. But two days later when the radiologist himself called, I cried. Then he told me me, we found something. It’s a marker for cancer. We need to have it removed. All of this during Breast Cancer Awareness month 6 years ago.
The lump was removed and that they thought was one marker for cancer ended up being two markers. No cancer present but enough the oncologist and surgeon have been monitoring me closely 3 times a year with bloodwork & mammograms twice a year and mri once a year. Thankfully all is still well.
But I will never forget those feelings and fear. I’m thankful for my hubs who held my hand every step of the way.
Wow Dione I know you’re glad you went through with it, even though it was so hard. The word ‘biopsy’ and ‘cancer’ and all those variables are so scary. I’m so glad you’re okay. And yes, what an awesome husband to help you through it, we definitely all need someone. Jamin definitely talked me off the cliff a few times. All the hugs and love.
Just over 2 years ago I went on a similar journey. My first mammogram found something they wanted to monitor. My second, 6 months later started an avalanche; biopsy later that day that came back inconclusive, an appointment with a surgeon, an appointment to have a clip put in to guide the surgeon (I literally laid on my stomach on a table with my boob hanging out a hole), and finally an excisional biopsy. This is the same procedure as a lumpectomy but because they didn’t know if it is was cancer or not it has a different name. Then, a few days later I got the all clear call. Like you, it was a fibroadenoma. It was a lot to process. My nipple was glued on, but I didn’t have cancer. My journey ended there, I didn’t have cancer.
Earlier this year I went in for my first mammogram since that whole ordeal. The woman was kind but brisk. Who knows how many boobs she squeezes a day. I wish my chart had a note for her “handle with care, she had to go through a lot to not have cancer.” Thankfully, nothing was flagged.
Cortney I’m so glad you received good news this time. It’s just a ton to process, and work through. I feel all of this to deeply. I am sorry she was brisk. Every little moment at those places really matter… from the person who checks you in at the front desk, to the consultant at the end. I was close to tears more than a few times and definitely lost my crap once. I one hundred percent get it and I’m really sorry you had to go through all of that. Thank you for sharing your experience.
I am so incredibly proud of you for sharing your truth. Makes this journey a lot less lonely. I am so relieved everything is ok. Love you big time friend!
Brooke – thank you a million times over for sharing your mother’s story, and your story. You’re so brave and it’s just so important. All the feelings are so very mutual. Love you.
Sweet friend – thank you so much for sharing. I found my first lump when I was pregnant with my youngest and had it removed when she was a few weeks old (and I was still breast feeding – insert a lot of comical outcomes). Still in the process of mamo and then a sono because I have “dense” breasts. Just know I totally understand the process, the waiting. And also be prepared that this might be how it is going forward, some extra tests. I have always said I have the most examined breasts in Orange County NY which in some ways is frustrating – but I know and that in itself can be a gift. Sending love and hugs!
Laura! How crazy to go through all of that while breast feeding. Good grief. I think that actually happens a lot? You’re not the first person who has written in with this- I’m {clearly} no doctor but is it because of all the changes our bodies experience? I am so glad you are okay. And thank you for the warning. It’s been a lot to process and I have a big sigh of relief for now, but I have another appointment in November and I have a feeling they will be doing more check-ins, more frequently. A “new normal”, I suppose. My friend who has a marker too, now told me we have bionic bewbies. Good times. ;}
Thank you so much for this. I don’t know why I’m crying. My gyno retired in January, just a couple of months after finding a cyst on my ovary. I’m having a hard time finding a new doc who is accepting new patients and takes my insurance. It’s scary being without a doctor. I know I will find one soon, and when I do I promise to schedule a mammogram (I’ve never had one). Thank you. xo
Hey Bets. I one hundred percent get it. ALL of this is a big deal and a real hassle, if I’m being perfectly honest. I’d always gone loyally to the doctor who delivered all three of our kiddos and then we moved. So I became less strict with myself about it. You build a trust with a provider and then when that goes away, everything is tricky / more stressful. But there’s something about checking in again, that just makes you feel better. Finding a cyst is scary and I’m so sorry. All the hugs and love coming your way.
Hi Ashley – I am happy to hear that benign was the word in your biopsy results. 🙂 I had something similar many years ago and know the waiting can be agony. My daughter has been going through the wait for the results of a breast biopsy also on top of dealing with a child with cancer. 🙁
Thank you for sharing your story and reminding us how important it is to take care of ourselves and not put ourselves last on our to-do lists. XO
Diane – it hurts my heart to hear that. Please keep me posted on your sweet daughter + of course, how Z is doing, when you get a chance. I just can’t imagine. Your entire sweet family has been on my mind. I am so glad that your prognosis was good!
I went through something similar in my late 20’s. I was just having a breast reduction (I was a 56EEE). When they did the surgery the found the one cancer that is never found until it is too late. They took everything out and made little pimples for me. That was almost 40 years ago. The good news was that they cleaned everything out and I did not have to have Chemo or Radiation. Praise God. There was no way I would have found it when I checked myself.
Make sure you have your regular exam for the other end. I had cancer there also and again it was found removed and I didn’t have any more problems.
I thank God yours was not cancer. I would not wish that on anyone.
Oh Jackie I’m so sorry. I am so glad they found it but it just sucks for anyone to have to go through that. I have so much admiration for you, and I am sorry about the other cancer too and I am glad you are okay. I definitely did the other end, too {the one where you scoot down uncomfortably} – which is great advice to anyone else reading. THAT’S the one I was worried about. I have endometriosis so I have all kinds of odd things going on all the time down there from cysts to weird and new issues- and when that came back clear it felt like something else I could check off my never-ending list. Hugs to you and thank you so much for sharing. You’re so brave and I am glad you are okay.
I’m sorry that you had to go through this, and so glad that you are okay. Thank you for sharing and being real. Praying for good health for all of your family and pets!
Thank you so much for your sweet words, Jeanine! All of this – It just makes us more interesting, right? ;}
I have been where you are–feeling that lump soon after my youngest child was born, scheduling the exams, meeting with the cancer genetic screening counselor because my younger cousin was dying with cancer when I found my lump…I had the same benign diagnosis. All of that happened in my late 30s. Now, I am over 40, and I have been procrastinating setting up my follow-up ultrasound visits and mammogram. Thanks for the reminder.
Marilla – I know that was so scary. I am so sorry you had to through all of that. And I am really sorry about your cousin, too. I one hundred percent get the procrastination thing. I know I will always dread it. You’ve totally got this!
Thank you for encouraging women to get a mammogram. I do this every chance I get since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in March. I am lucky. Stage 1A and the tumor did not go to the lymph nodes. The doctors and healthcare workers were so kind and sweet during this surgery and radiation. I praise the Lord for His loving care.
So glad you did not have cancer.
Edie – you are a warrior. All the love and hugs and prayers coming your way. I am sorry you are having to deal with this – it truly sucks. Thank you for sharing, too. It’s so important. Thinking of you and thank you for your kind words.
I have the same condition in my breasts. My mammogram was always followed by an ultrasound every year since age 23 (I am now 68) and last year had my first 3D mammogram and. No ulltrasound after. I always felt lumps because of that problem. I worried as my mothers mother died from breast cancer. My mom only missed 1 mammogram when she was 80 and the following one at 81 found cancer so her breast was removed. I Always get them checked each year. In fact just received the reminder today. Glad you are good!