I felt something.
I’m sure it was nothing.
Who was I fooling? I really wasn't convinced.
My nothing something was under my new fake breast and it was definitely a something.
“Tell me what you feel. What size do you describe it as”, my Doctor asked before she examined me.
(Of course I called immediately for an appointment.)
I tell her; a pea.
“Ok. I feel what you’re feeling. We are definitely on the same page.
I think it’s the size of a lentil. “
Pea. Lentil. Tomato/Tomato. As much as I'd love to discuss the difference of legumes, we decided an ultrasound should be scheduled.
She isn’t overly concerned.
It’s Friday. I can’t be seen til Tuesday.
Have you met me?
I am not going with the flow here in spite of her not being overly concerned.
Me?
I’m overly concerned.
I’ve had cancer reoccurrence once already I don’t need to be going for it again.
In my head I already have myself signed up for chemo.
I’m annoyed as hell that DH is not feeling the something nothing. It's plain as day.
I make him feel it at least 15 times.
I’m searching my arm pit for inflamed lymph nodes.
Tuesday will not do so I call first thing Monday morning begging to be seen.
3pm it is.
In Boston.
The kicker? I’m already there at 1030 for an apt at Cardiology with youngest (who’s been fainting. I know. My life is a giant lifetime movie) (He is fine. We are chalking it up to dehydration and his mother and grandmothers Vaso vagal genes)
A quick lunch at Panera (bc youngest loves their onion soup and bagel. ) I head back in.
A mammogram. A ultrasound. Back to mammogram. Everyone has poker faces. No one tells you a thing.
Radiologist has a team with her because Boston is all about teaching hospitals.
I’m an open book. Look and feel all you want but just start talking please.
“We think it’s probably fat necrosis” (happens often after breast surgery. A pseudo-mass. But benign)
The ultrasound however; inconclusive.
Yea radiology team. Love that we are in a top rated hospital but "think" and "probably" are not going to cut it for me.
Stick a needle in my nothing something and send it off to pathology.
Please.
We can bypass the small talk.
I know the drill.
I know the risks.
I know the lidocaine numbs me but stings like a bitch the 5 times you’re going to stick me with it.
I know the click click sound is just you taking the sample.
Ice.
Tylenol.
Don’t shower for 24 hours.
Yada yada.
Let me sign the consent and get the show on the road.
This is NOT my first rodeo.
The team sends me back to the waiting room to wait.
I am surrounded by six women in blue, short tie robes, all staring down at our phones or tablets.
Except for annoying woman in high heeled black stiletto boots who is yapping away to her husband on the phone.
Loudly.
He’s on a business trip in NYC. (The hotel is in a great location)
He will get into Miami tomorrow (at least you will have sun. It's so cold out, she complains. She even had to wear her coat in spite of her valeting the car)
She talks about her “concierge doctor” and how she is losing patience.
I was this close to ripping off my little blue robe and showing her my treasure map of a body. I was this close to telling her that her and her concierge doctor need a dose of reality.
Lucky stiletto woman was saved by amazingly kind assistant B who called my name.
B held my hand and tried to distract me with small talk about my children as I cringed when the lidocaine stung. Not sure this is legit to say but kind new biopsy radiologist doc along with a whole other new team said he would be very surprised if it was cancer.
I breathed.
For the first time in 4 days.
I know he doesn’t know for sure.
If it is cancer I’ll not be happy with kind radiologist and his team but for that moment; I felt confident .
12 hours later I was googling fat necrosis vs cancer.
The odds were in my favor but you know, things aren't exactly always going my way.
24 hours later I got the call.
Let's hear it for fat necrosis!
Breathing.
Exhaling.
I guess this is my new life.
Constant worry.
Wait, wasn't this my old life?
I’m sure it was nothing.
Who was I fooling? I really wasn't convinced.
My nothing something was under my new fake breast and it was definitely a something.
“Tell me what you feel. What size do you describe it as”, my Doctor asked before she examined me.
(Of course I called immediately for an appointment.)
I tell her; a pea.
“Ok. I feel what you’re feeling. We are definitely on the same page.
I think it’s the size of a lentil. “
Pea. Lentil. Tomato/Tomato. As much as I'd love to discuss the difference of legumes, we decided an ultrasound should be scheduled.
She isn’t overly concerned.
It’s Friday. I can’t be seen til Tuesday.
Have you met me?
I am not going with the flow here in spite of her not being overly concerned.
Me?
I’m overly concerned.
I’ve had cancer reoccurrence once already I don’t need to be going for it again.
In my head I already have myself signed up for chemo.
I’m annoyed as hell that DH is not feeling the something nothing. It's plain as day.
I make him feel it at least 15 times.
I’m searching my arm pit for inflamed lymph nodes.
Tuesday will not do so I call first thing Monday morning begging to be seen.
3pm it is.
In Boston.
The kicker? I’m already there at 1030 for an apt at Cardiology with youngest (who’s been fainting. I know. My life is a giant lifetime movie) (He is fine. We are chalking it up to dehydration and his mother and grandmothers Vaso vagal genes)
A quick lunch at Panera (bc youngest loves their onion soup and bagel. ) I head back in.
A mammogram. A ultrasound. Back to mammogram. Everyone has poker faces. No one tells you a thing.
Radiologist has a team with her because Boston is all about teaching hospitals.
I’m an open book. Look and feel all you want but just start talking please.
“We think it’s probably fat necrosis” (happens often after breast surgery. A pseudo-mass. But benign)
The ultrasound however; inconclusive.
Yea radiology team. Love that we are in a top rated hospital but "think" and "probably" are not going to cut it for me.
Stick a needle in my nothing something and send it off to pathology.
Please.
We can bypass the small talk.
I know the drill.
I know the risks.
I know the lidocaine numbs me but stings like a bitch the 5 times you’re going to stick me with it.
I know the click click sound is just you taking the sample.
Ice.
Tylenol.
Don’t shower for 24 hours.
Yada yada.
Let me sign the consent and get the show on the road.
This is NOT my first rodeo.
The team sends me back to the waiting room to wait.
I am surrounded by six women in blue, short tie robes, all staring down at our phones or tablets.
Except for annoying woman in high heeled black stiletto boots who is yapping away to her husband on the phone.
Loudly.
He’s on a business trip in NYC. (The hotel is in a great location)
He will get into Miami tomorrow (at least you will have sun. It's so cold out, she complains. She even had to wear her coat in spite of her valeting the car)
She talks about her “concierge doctor” and how she is losing patience.
I was this close to ripping off my little blue robe and showing her my treasure map of a body. I was this close to telling her that her and her concierge doctor need a dose of reality.
Lucky stiletto woman was saved by amazingly kind assistant B who called my name.
B held my hand and tried to distract me with small talk about my children as I cringed when the lidocaine stung. Not sure this is legit to say but kind new biopsy radiologist doc along with a whole other new team said he would be very surprised if it was cancer.
I breathed.
For the first time in 4 days.
I know he doesn’t know for sure.
If it is cancer I’ll not be happy with kind radiologist and his team but for that moment; I felt confident .
12 hours later I was googling fat necrosis vs cancer.
The odds were in my favor but you know, things aren't exactly always going my way.
24 hours later I got the call.
Let's hear it for fat necrosis!
Breathing.
Exhaling.
I guess this is my new life.
Constant worry.
Wait, wasn't this my old life?
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