I was already at the door after a routine check-up at my gynecologist, when I turned back and asked for a referral… ‘I think I feel a lump in my right breast… about a year now…’. It’s true that my last Dr. checked it out, but what the hell… She handed me the referral.
I scheduled an appointment for last Wednesday, the surgeon touched my breasts and I turned bright red – it’s just the way I am… and in seconds they were standing at attention, because it was cold, but he probably thought I was excited… 🙂
He concluded that he wasn’t worried but wanted me to have an ultrasound; I made an appointment for Friday (I’m well connected 🙂 ).
After a long wait it was finally my turn. I went in, undressed, laid down and again they were standing… (Why the hell they don’t heat up that ultrasound gel only God knows…!) He was done. Now he was calling my Dr. “I have Michal here… That lump you felt looks like (a word I can’t pronounce) with (another word I can’t pronounce) edges, and… (Another word…). I would like you to see her urgently.
A hot flush ran through my body (at least now they weren’t standing!…)
He saw me immediately – but I wasn’t bothered, I was in denial. I was still in denial when I got an urgent mammography appointment … (OK, maybe a little bothered, but it didn’t show). It was a Friday morning and I was more bothered by the fact that I might miss breakfast with my sister!
Sunday morning, my man, my mother and I are at the mammography place – waiting… (Why are there no newspapers or magazines in the breast department???). I go in and get undressed. A nurse with artificial nails is pulling my breast forward and squashing it down real hard using the mammography machine…. (Amazing what my breasts can do… who knew!)
“Only 4 quick shots, 2 on each side she says. We’ll start with the right and move onto the left breast.”
By the seventh mammogram I was getting more than a little worried – I take a deep breath and tell myself everything is ok and that this is all perfectly normal… I swallow back the tears and try to calm myself while one tit is stuck in the machine, my arm is up in the air in an impossible position and my head is turned at a 95 degree angle to the left.
Nails asks me to wait outside. I pull myself together and head out.
My wonderful man (typically sitting and biting his nails) and mother turn their heads as soon as I enter – I smile and search for something else to look at besides their expectant faces.
They want to do another test and another ultrasound – I exchange glances with the secretary – she knows. I walk into room number four, undress and lay down… again that cold ultrasound gel, again they stand at attention – how embarrassing (!!)
‘Look’, she says, ‘It doesn’t look good. I would like to do another test’. “What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look good’?” I ask. ‘You have a 2 cm lump with 7-8 cm calcification around it’ she answers dryly. ‘I don’t like the look of it’ she adds (like she’s talking about some male model).
She starts explaining about the next test and all I hear is bla bla bla.. Biopsy… bla bla… anesthesia… bla bla… gland… bla bla… urgent…. My man looks at me with worried eyes, I look back blankly. This isn’t really happening to me… it can’t be. It’s just a bad dream. I close my eyes and scream in my head:
W A K E U P!!!…..
I open my eyes, I’m still there. It’s not a dream; it’s a nightmare that I simply can’t wake up from!