I was laying in bed on Monday Nov 25 and I ran my hand over my right breast and felt what I'd describe as a "thick area". Nothing outstanding and certainly nothing I was immediately concerned about. Two years before I had the same type of feeling in my left breast and went for a mammogram and ultrasound and worried for a week and was told I have dense breasts and it was likely just hormonal changes before my period and nothing to worry about.
This lump felt like some thick tissue with maybe a little wee hard bit in the middle but more like the hardness of the top of your ear, if that. It didn't feel like a piece of chewing gum like in the pictures at the doctor's office. It just felt a little odd. No pain, just a little thicker than the rest of the breast. Jason said he felt it too, but he said no sense worrying about it until I knew anything. He was then and continues to be the one who keeps me from tumbling into the abyss.
Sidenote: Two months before I felt this blob I had a breast exam done by a fancy overpriced gynecologist with a two hour wait before appointments who told me based on my blood tests and the physical exam I had nothing to worry about when it came to breast cancer. I was just fine, I should continue the progesterone cream and DHEA prescribed to me to treat some slight symptoms of early menopause. I'm not pleased with that whole scenario but Drs make mistakes, and I need to move forward not focus on something that "should've been done". There was nothing I could've done differently, in retrospect.
Flash forward to sitting in my family doctors office on Nov 26. I could tell immediately by the look on her face that this was no ordinary blob. OR maybe it was because I'd done all the googling all day and was now convinced I was a triple board certified Breast Specialist and I'd felt the blob and had determined it definitely needed more discovery. She agreed.
She said I'd need a mammogram and ultrasound. She said it could be a number of things, I won't list them all because it doesn't matter anyway. We know how it turned out. Anyway, she said she'd put a req. in for the mammo and ultrasound and mark it "urgent".
Now let me say this...when someone such as a Dr. or nurse or technologist or anyone in a conventional medical setting says urgent...understand that does not mean emergency. It means ....kind of quickly... not like "right now"; more like....first thing after lunch. Emergencies are uncontrolled fevers, bleeding orifices and unchecked contagions.
To me URGENT was the Dr. secret way of telling me to prepare myself for the worst, like when someone winks when they hand you a drink...you're not sure what it means but you're certain it's going to be hard to swallow.
I left the office and turned my phone on because I was anticipating a call immediately from the ultrasound department and mammogram scheduler. No call.
So, I started calling the respective departments and asking if they had my form. She said "Im sure it's in the pile here..we usually get to them in a day or two". I asked her how they separate the urgent from the non urgent...she said they do that when they sort them.
Headshake. Wtf.
I mentioned mine was urgent and I used my nice quiet sad voice to ask her to please find it as I had found a lump in my breast and my doctor said it was urgent. She sounded annoyed and told me I'd get a call soon.
I hung up and just sat there feeling helpless and then started googling breast lumps and entered the dark rabbit hole of "whatifs".
I then phoned my Dr. and told her I would require some Ativan or Valium or some drug to shut my brain down.
For those of you who know me well, you won't be surprised to know that in the past 6 years I have maybe taken 2 or 3 advil and only after I was hit by a car on my bike. Not a single pharmaceutical drug. I did not have drugs when I had my last baby. Not a gravol, not a tums, not a tylenol..nothing. I eat organic. For fucksakes, I grow my own organic food... I don't eat fast food or hydrogenated oils. I exercise almost everyday. I bike. I sleep well. I probably drank the average amount of alcohol (being more than WHO guidelines for a 200lb man) for a high anxiety over achiever, but I had regular blood and liver scans and was getting the all good over and over again. Plus, I supplemented...lots of milk thistle...and I felt good.
I took the Ativan. It helped. Kinda. And then I called the ultrasound lady again. She knew my name when I called and I didn't really use my sad quiet nice voice, more my louder nice smart voice. I got an appointment for the next day. Ultrasound and mammogram.
I took the Ativan. It helped. Kinda. Then I started the googling. I think google should be disabled for people awaiting medical diagnosis. Needless to say, it didn't help.
During the mammogram I do believe I was a trained army intelligence officer who could detect worry or concern in the face of another person. I used my craft to try to tell from the technicians face if I had days to live or if it was nothing. I felt like...she'd done this before and had a standard face and lines to say. So it was a lost cause half way through.
The ultrasound technician kept taking pictures of the same spot over and over and over again and I tried to crink my neck around to see the screen and noticed her doing the measuring thing they do and then I saw her write "Lesion" on the screen and measure what would become my nemesis. This little bastard here.
It was the first of many times over the next month and a half that things would suck without sucking. Meaning...it's not good...but it's not "officially bad" so it just sucks and I don't know what's going on yet with my own body but other people do and they're just trying to figure out how bad it is and when to tell me whatever they think I need to know.
I asked the technician how long until my Dr had the results, she said usually 5 days. This was Thursday....that means I had to wait the weekend, totally unacceptable. When she was done she said she just needed to make sure she had all the pics and double check with the radiologist and I should wait there. When she came back she said I could go...and then she said:
"If you don't hear from anyone tomorrow you should definitely call on Monday" and then she said the fatal words "take care". TAKE CARE. Oh man. Who says that!
I felt sick. Drove home (from Toronto to Hamilton) because at the time I hadn't found a Dr yet in Hamilton. I waited the weekend. No news.
Monday, now back around again...this Monday I had to take my mom to the dentist so I was distracted in the morning and not focused on the call. Monday afternoon I took the Go train back to Hamilton after my moms appointment and decided to stop, as any civilized person would, for a Monday Margarita and taco special at a little place near the Go Station I liked.
I sat down and looked at my margarita and my taco and the snow was falling outside and I felt calm and like everything was going to be ok. I'm not usually a "take my food's picture" kind of person but this just looked nice and I was going to brag to my sister about how awesome my life was.
Doesn't that look yummy? What could possibly be wrong. I'm fine. I've been overthinking. Everything will be just fine. Just fine.
The phone rang and it was my Doctor.
At that moment my life stopped being so awesome.
The taco did not.
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