Each year I make sure I get a screening mammogram. I started getting them as soon as I turned 40. Although there’s no history of breast cancer in my immediate family, I’ve always been good about practicing preventative care.
This year as any other year, I got tested and forgot about it because for the past 13 years the result has been negative. This year, however, I received a call from the diagnostic center requesting I get a diagnostic mammogram because they had “seen something” in my right breast that had not been there in my prior exams. At first, I felt a bit confused, thinking they had just made a mistake, but after a few minutes, fear started to set in.
I scheduled the test for the following day because I needed to know what was going on as soon as possible. I had a vacation trip planned to Miami the following week and wanted to take care of this before I left. I arrived at the clinic the next day not knowing what to expect.
They took me to a room with a larger machine, one I had not been in before. A technician started taking images she would present to a doctor on-site. After she completed a series of images, I was told to wait in the same room in case the doctor wanted additional images. I remember the room being cold, with a smell of rubbing alcohol, and very quiet. My fear intensified. The few minutes the nurse was away felt like a very long time to me, even though it was just a few minutes. Although I tried not to think of the possibility of something being wrong, I could not help but fear the worst. The doctor finally entered the room and informed me I had calcium deposits called calcifications on my right breast. Although she said that in 80 percent of cases they are benign, she could not say for certain if this was my case. She recommended I get a biopsy to determine if the calcifications were benign or precancerous.
Precancerous??? I broke into tears; how could this be happening to me? I was so afraid, thoughts of losing my breast, radiation, chemotherapy, and losing my hair ran rampant through my mind within seconds of hearing the word cancer. Most of all, I thought about my son. How could he possibly lose his mother? He’s only 15 years old. OK, as melodramatic and irrational as these thoughts were at the moment, I couldn’t help but wonder with great fear, how this would all play out.
I was not able to schedule the biopsy immediately because I was leaving town in a few days. This meant spending my vacation wondering about it. Thanks to my mother, husband, and friends, who provided my great encouragement and support, I was able to relax, and enjoy my vacation. They challenged me to hope for the best, and deal with it when I returned. Knowing they would be there for me no matter what happens, gave me a piece of mind, and comfort.
I returned from my trip on Sunday, and the biopsy was scheduled on that Wednesday. During the few days preceding the test, I tried to keep busy. The night prior to the procedure, I became anxious, and it was difficult to sleep. As I tried to fall asleep, thoughts of having breast cancer played in my mind like a horror film, with the possibility of a happy ending, or not.
I arrived at the clinic at 8:00 a.m. with my husband. After being prepped and informed about the procedure, I was taken to a cold, well-lit room; place upside-down on a table, and asked to relax. Relax? Right! To my surprise, the procedure was not terribly uncomfortable; the caretakers were friendly, empathetic, and kind, which helped calm me down. They closed my wound and promised the results the next day.
That night I was in a lot of pain, and very uncomfortable. Worse was my fear of a negative outcome. By 11:00 a.m. the next morning, I had my results. The clinician on the other line started by saying, “Good news.” What a relief! My calcifications were benign, and no further testing was necessary.
I called everyone who had supported me with the great news. I knew they were relieved to hear that. As small or as big of a deal as this may seem to others, it really had an effect on me. This experience has taught me how unexpected life can be. When I hear people say that life is short, I never quite grasped the true meaning of that phrase. Now, I get it. Life can turn on you in an instant, and you must be prepared. It’s funny how it takes something as a small threat of death to put things into perspective. I guess that’s how it happens to people who go through something similar, or worse.
I’m really going to make a greater effort not to take life too seriously, and to enjoy. I’ve been an advocate for breast cancer awareness, and breast health for years, but now that I’ve experienced how it could feel to have this illness, I plan to dedicate more time and finances to this cause.
I’ve been allowing stress to control my life for a while now and this experience, blown out of proportion as some may think, was extremely pertinent to my view of life. I hope it teaches me to unwind, and appreciate everything in my life, including the areas that are not working out or are not what I had hoped they’d be.
Here’s my dear friend and editor’s account of her experience:
Melissa’s breast cancer scare
I try to be pretty proactive about my health. One way I attempt this is by doing regular self-exams on my breasts, checking for lumps. Now I’ll be honest: I don’t do this every month. Or even every other month. But I do try to do it on a regular basis so I can detect any problems early.
In December 2012, I felt a lump about the size of a pea in my left breast. I had never felt anything there before, and all of a sudden this big lump was there. I should have called my doctor right away, but De Nile isn’t just a river, as they say. I was sure that it was all in my imagination or would go away, or something.
I’m almost embarrassed to say that I succeeded in my denial for a while until a certain episode of Downton Abbey aired in January. Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, had found a lump in her breast and immediately went to get it checked out. It was benign, and all returned to normal (or as normal as things can be on that show). But it hit me right between the eyes … what was I waiting for? Why didn’t I go and get this checked out?
I made an appointment with my doctor, who confirmed that there was, indeed, a lump there. My doctor is at a clinic that does not have all the equipment for such screenings, so she referred me to another clinic that specializes in breast health. She recommended that I get both a mammogram and an ultrasound to see what could be determined from the mass.
By now, I was starting to feel very anxious. The good thing about denial is that in that state there is no stress. But once the denial is over, all that stress is there nonetheless. I made the appointment for the screening as soon as possible and then waited the few days beforehand in an anxious haze.
However, I didn’t tell anyone what was going on at this point. I figured if I didn’t talk about it, it couldn’t be real. But the other side of that was that I was dealing with this anxiety all alone.
The morning of the appointment arrived, and I nervously showed up at the clinic for both imaging procedures. It is not the intent of this piece to describe what a mammogram feels like, but suffice it to say, it is not pleasant. The ultrasound was not as uncomfortable, except I had to lie really still in a slightly awkward position. But the clinic staff was as comforting and kind as could be, which definitely made the process easier.
Both tests confirmed that there was a mass in my breast. The doctor felt that it was probably a fibroadenoma (a benign mass), but said a biopsy could tell me for sure. He put the odds at 51 percent fibro-adenoma, 49 percent something else. I didn’t feel like gambling with my health, so I scheduled the biopsy.
I spent another nerve-wracking week until I could get in for that appointment, on a Friday. The procedure itself was not as bad as I was expecting, though the needle they use is quite large and extremely intimidating. I made it through with no problem, however.
But then came the waiting. The doctor promised results on Monday, but that left a whole weekend to wonder and worry. By this time, the prospect of cancer had become more real than ever. I know the doctor said the odds were in my favor, but still. A biopsy! That had a sinister dose of reality.
Not to mention that the aftermath of the procedure was more painful than the procedure itself. My seatbelt hit right where the wound was. I had trouble raising my arm. Sleeping was uncomfortable. But by this time I was ready to confide in a couple of my girlfriends. It did feel better to know that I wasn’t facing any grim prospects completely alone.
Monday morning came, and I got the call I had been anxiously awaiting: results negative! The lump was indeed a fibroadenoma. The doctor said that the process of the biopsy could make it shrink on its own (not true, by the way), but that it did not need to be removed unless it became uncomfortable. The feeling of relief that swept over me was indescribable. It was with great pleasure that I was able to tell my girlfriends that all was well.
After all of this was over, I felt weird about sharing it with anyone else because it had turned out to be “nothing.” So I kept my mouth shut about it. Still, facing a potential health crisis such as this was frightening and humbling. It made me think about my life, what I am doing with it, where I am going. Not to sound too Oprah, but am I living my best life?
It also made me rethink my relationship situation—I’m perpetually single. Sometimes it’s terrifying to face life’s challenges without a life partner. Would I have handled things better if I had had a lover by my side? Or am I so accustomed to fending for myself that I handled everything just fine?
In any case, it made me realize both my mortality and my loneliness. The year 2013 has come and gone now, and I’m still alone, but I feel more invested in putting myself out there. Life’s challenges are better met with community, and I know that I don’t want to face the next crisis with no partner. Friends are wonderful and help enormously, but they are not quite the same as having someone by your side through thick and thin, health crisis and happiness. I hope to find someone to fulfill that role soon. In the meantime, I relish my healthy breasts and am reminded that it’s time to schedule another mammogram.
