I always knew the importance of monthly self-breast exams. Some times I would do them, sometimes not. Then, in the fall of 2004, I found 3 lumps in my left breast. After making the discovery, I immediately made an appointment with my doctor.
I knew the devastation of breast cancer. My grandmother had it in her 20s and again in her 60s, resulting in the loss of both breasts. My aunt had it in her 30s and my own mother in her 50s. So I knew the odds were stacked against me and I no longer had any female family members to turn to.
I went in for my exam and the doctor confirmed it. I had 3 lumps in varying sizes, the largest being 3 centimeters. She scheduled me for a mammogram.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, I had never had the procedure before and it really wasn’t anything that had ever been talked about at family functions. What was even scarier was the fact that it could very well be cancer.
I didn’t think I would survive waiting the 3 days before my mammogram. I spent a lot of time laying in bed thinking about how my future may change.
I was fortunate that we have a women’s breast health clinic locally. It was a very soothing and warm place. They focus not just on procedures, but the women who are having the procedures.
I went back for my procedure with a wonderful mammogram tech. She was showing me around and telling me what was about to happen. I was alone, anxious and terrified.
I removed my clothing for the procedure and went into the exam room.
The machine wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I had expected a huge monstrous machine. But instead it was small and efficient looking.
If you have never had a mammogram, it’s hard to describe without scaring you. They place your breast between 2 plates, put pressure on it to get it as flattened as possible and then take images of it. I won’t lie, it is a painful procedure.
I then had to wait about a week to get a biopsy. It was going to be the moment of truth. I would finally know if I was about to be dealing with breast cancer or not.
The idea of having a needle jammed into you breast is not a fun idea. I would have rather done anything else.
I got up the morning of the biopsy after a night of no sleep, terrified out of my mind. Once again, off I went to the breast center so I could have my biopsy. This time, my dad drove me because afterwards they suggest not driving home.
I go in, get naked and wait.
The nurse takes me into a room that looks just like the operating rooms you see on TV. Light, machines and shiny instruments everywhere.
I lay down on the table and the doctor comes in to talk with me. I’m then informed that it may be a little rough because the tissue is really fibrous and sometimes it’s hard to get the needle through the tissue. So she says she may have to be a bit more forceful.
I’m laying on the table and a third nurse comes in. She’s here to comfort me. She stands by my head and holds a washcloth over my eyes, because I didn’t want to watch. She also holds my hand and talks to me the entire time.
I know they give you medications to numb you and to help with pain. I am not going to lie to you, having a needle forced into your breast hurts. The doctor had such a hard time getting through the fibrous tissue, she was literally punching me in the breast trying to force the needle thru.
Afterwards I return to get dressed, accompanied by a nurse. This is when the real fun starts. They wrap both breasts in bandages, tight. It’s to give the breast support and helps with bruising and soreness. But it also makes it a bit hard to breath.
They send you home with instructions on using ice and heat. Nothing helps the pain. It’s just a deep throbbing ache. You can’t sleep, because of the aching pain and the bandages wrapped so tight you can’t breath. I was purple for weeks.
I wouldn’t suggest this type of adventure be done just for the fun of it.
A few days later, I received the dreaded call, I could barely even bring myself to talk with the doctor. She then explained to me that it isn’t breast cancer, I felt a profound relief cover my entire body. The odds were stacked against me, but I was still on top.
I was then informed that they were fibro adenomas, basically just fibrous lumps. They won’t have to be removed unless they begin to get bigger or begin to bother me. They ache sometimes, but I just deal with it. My insurance isn’t real hip on paying to have them remove.
Because of my family history, I have regular mammograms. I personally feel, it’s not a matter of if I will ever get cancer, it’s just when. And I plan on catching it as early as possible.
