For years now I had
a goal to have a mammogram by the age of 35.
35 may sound awfully young, but with the history of breast cancer in my
family, a base-line at 35 was a good idea.
You know how life
goes. Years zoomed by my goal of 35.
A week ago, at the
age of 37, I finally worked up courage to have my first mammogram.
The mammogram was
not as bad as I had imagined. I walked
away wondering why I had put that off so long. As standard procedure,
the receptionist said I would receive a postcard in the mail if everything was
fine, or a call from their office if they needed to see me back.
My family was
camping at Shaver
Lake
Unfortunately, I did
have a postcard waiting, but instead of a happy report it said: “There are
findings that need further evaluation.”
Bummer. Really?
Monday morning at
11:00 I made the call to be sure they had their information correct.
“Oh, yes, Mrs.
Nicholson,” said the receptionist, “we need to schedule an ultrasound for you
as soon as possible. I have an opening
today at 1:30. Can you make that?”
Was she serious? An ultrasound in 21/2 hours? With VBS going
on in the evening and a house-full of a week’s worth of camping clothes and
supplies, I took the 1:30 appointment.
I called my Aunt
Connie, a remarkable breast cancer survivor herself, to relay the information I
knew. She reassured me most likely they
wanted a more detailed base-line with my history. There was no reason to be alarmed.
I called my husband
to let him know I had to go back. He
asked if I was nervous. I said no.
Strange how it feels
like our bodies betray us. Mentally, I
was calm, composed and ready to handle whatever was coming my way. But physically, at noon, my body began
trembling. I kept reciting memory
verses, praying for God’s peace, but from deep within my body was afraid. I felt like King David commanding his soul to
bless the Lord. “Do not be afraid!” I
continued to command my body. But the
trembling continued.
At 1:30 the ultrasound technician
questioned my nerves. She said my heart
was racing. “I really am fine, I don’t
know why my heart is racing so much.” In
my mind I kept rehearsing my Aunt Connie’s words, “it’s just a more detailed
base-line,” until she said, “Now, there’s one particular spot we’re looking at.”
Drats.
Sure enough,
multiple pictures later, the doctor came in with the evaluation. I have a 12mm lump that is a solid mass, not a fluid-filled cyst. The next step? Core needle biopsy and a tag. We had to find out if the solid mass was
fibroadenoma or cancer. There would also
be a tag inserted into the mass for easy tracking and evaluation.
Ugg.
Anyone that knows me,
knows I really don’t like medical stuff.
I had all three of my babies at home to avoid the whole “hospital” scene
entirely. One of the reasons I never
wanted to have a mammogram was so that I wouldn’t have to go through this! Better to live happy in denial than get poked
and prodded!
“What is your
schedule like this week?” questioned the doctor, “I’d like to have this
biopsied right away.”
Within 10 minutes,
my biopsy was scheduled for the next day at 9:15 and I was off to resume my
already too busy afternoon.
By 4:00 my head was
pounding. The anxiety, nerves and adrenalin
rush was taking its toll. I had to push
through to lead music for our children at our church’s VBS. Thankfully, I was surrounded by three sweet
ladies who prayed for me. It is a
miracle that I slept so well that night and I know it is due to the power of
prayer.
I was up early and
at my office by 6:30. E-mails to get
mailed, notes to write, things to do before I went in for my biopsy. Back at home by 8:00 I kissed my kids and
waited for my sister to give me a ride to my appointment. We chit-chatted all the way there, which
helped keep me distracted. I was
surprisingly calm, without the trembles. (Thank you, Jesus!)
The biopsy itself
was very simple, aside from the loud trigger being fired and knowing mentally a
sharp object was being impaled into my flesh.
I asked the doctor if the chip they put inside me has a smiley face so
the technician would know that lump has been checked and is okay. He said no in a flat tone, and showed me the
piece of metal that was about to be inserted into me. It looked like a segment of lead from a
pencil. No happy faces. Sitting up and seeing blood, needles, and
samples of my flesh floating around in little test-tube containers did not sit
well. The room spun a bit and I warned
the nurse that I was about to pass out. “I’m
a fainter,” I warned.
"Rest, Tylenol and Ice. No lifting for 24 hours." the doctor charged. He must not be a busy Mom or know my schedule.
Ten minutes of
sitting later, I was taken to another room.
“Now we have to perform another mammogram to make sure we tagged the
right place.”
“Seriously,”
I
questioned? “After you just stuck a hole in me you’re going to squeeze me?
Is blood going to squirt out all over the
place?”
“Oh, no. You’ll be just fine.”
“Well it’s no wonder
I’m going to bruise so bad!” The lady
laughed.
More man-handling
and awkward positions and then I was pinned into the mammogram machine. “Hold your breath, ready, now.”
Between the pressing
and the breath holding, my room began to get dizzy again. Let me just say, those pictures take a long
time when you’re about ready to pass out!
The technician released just in time and a bolted to the chair in the
corner before I became a lump on the floor.
“We need one more picture, honey, and then you’re done.”
My body was
finished. I had remained strong and
stayed positive and compliant. Just one
more picture, God give me strength to finish this awful appointment.
Up for the last
diagonal, awkward pose, sticking equipment in my armpit and squeezing my
already sensitive breast. “Now hold your
breath, ready, now.” With my arms
weakening and my head pounding, the compression stopped and I was
finished.
I sat in the chair a
few more minutes while she cleaned the machine and the room stopped
spinning. I wasn’t sure if I was going
to throw-up or pass-out, but I knew I was on the verge of one of those!
At 10:30 I was
finally escorted back to my room with my locker. What a morning. My sister had been waiting for me in the
waiting room. I was anxious to
leave. I reviewed the events of a biopsy
to her and she felt ill from my stories.
Thankfully, that part was in the past, and now we have to wait for
results.
After a stop by
Starbucks (thanks Deborah!) it was back to work and a full
afternoon/evening. I couldn’t take advil
since it thins blood, but Tylenol was fine.
I slipped an icepack in my bra every so often trying to
push through my day.
The hours ticked
away and I did my best to not let my mind stray down unknown paths of futures
that were not mine. I knew I could get
myself into a ball of anxiety very quickly if I did not keep a tight reign on
my thoughts.
Another remarkable
good night’s sleep, thanks be to God!
The doctor called at
12:15 the next day.
“The results came
out good. You have a benign fibroadenoma,
which just means a non-cancerous mass.”
Now, I wait six
months, then go back for a follow-up ultrasound and mammogram to make sure this
lovely lump is not growing or changing.
Funny how my week
can start off in one direction and take such a dramatic turn so quickly. I am very thankful that my story ends
here. I am glad I (finally) got my
baseline done and want to encourage other ladies out there with a history of
breast cancer in your family to muster up the courage to get checked and be
safe. If you're going through something scary, don't do it alone. Let's share with each other to share the load and carry each other through the tough times life throws at us.
I'm finally heading to bed and thankful for family, friends and my Father God.
