Although only ten minutes had passed, it seemed like ten hours. Here I was, lying on the examination table, and waiting for the doctor to finish up a biopsy in another room, so he could then come talk to me about my lumpy boobs.
What would be the results? I wondered. Could it be the big “C?” Would my life change in an instant or would I be spared and allowed to carry on as though this was all a dream? Just 20 minutes ago, I was sitting in the waiting room and observing all the various stages of what could happen…and being as close to getting breast cancer as I ever want to get.
Options
She was in her mid-late forties and on the verge of crying. “They said they want to talk to me about my options. That’s probably not a good sign,” She said. “Oh, you don’t know that,” I said. Think positive, options are good.”
I said these things, knowing deep down that she was probably right. And, contrary to my comment, options are not good. “Options” in situations like this are usually code for “something’s wrong.” Five minutes later, she came out of her consultation in tears and sat down two seats over. I glanced at her signing a form and provided the date when she asked for it. Other than that, I didn’t say a word. Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. In retrospect, I should’ve grabbed her hand and told her it’s going to be OK, even though I had no idea of her prognosis, let alone her name.
Distractions
After my unscheduled mammogram, they sat me back in the waiting room to wait for the ultrasound room to become free. I took a seat opposite a woman in her early to mid-forties. She was carrying the “Steve Jobs” book, which I know, love, and commented on. She said she brought it because, “I knew I would be here awhile and needed a distraction; ya know, something to keep my mind of off things while I’m waiting.” I completely understood. She didn’t realize it, but she was my distraction.
Questions
I sat in silence, like everyone else, thumbing my way through magazines from the year 2007. As I waited patiently to hear my name, a young boy and his Father walked into the room and took the two seats next to me. Fidgeting in his seat, the young boy asked his Dad, “When will Mommy know?” The Dad looked around the room. Everyone in the waiting room was now looking at him. He turned to his son and said, “Probably this morning.”
We all looked away.
I could only imagine the conversation they must’ve had before his wife’s appointment. Whatever measured dose of reality they decided to share with him, it wasn’t enough. The boy continued to ask questions, which caused the Dad to get more and more uncomfortable. “Hey, let’s go grab a snack,” he said. And off they went.
Angels
A well dressed woman in her late 50s stopped at the front desk on her way out and said to the Nurse, “I don’t know how you do it—working here all day—and having to share bad news with so many.” The Nurse replied in her soft, gentle voice, “I’ve had many family and friends die of cancer. Helping people through this difficult time is cathartic to me and is my way of giving back to the people that are no longer here. “Well, thank you,” said the woman to the Nurse. “You’re an angel.”
Answers
The Doctor came into the room behind the Ultrasound Tech, quickly introduced himself, and then immediately got to work. The Tech put the hot, clear liquid over my right breast and began to run the ultrasound wand back and forth over the area in question. I became religious all of a sudden —as I’m sure many do during times like this—asking God to “please, let it be nothing.”
“Let me tell you what we’re seeing, “He said. “We’re seeing two benign cysts that are about 3mm in diameter; nothing to be concerned about.” (One down and one to go! I thought.) I rolled over to allow better access to the left. She was having a hard time locating the area in question and then…“Hmmm, He said, “it looks like another cyst. It looks deflated; also benign. I would recommend coming back in six months for a follow-up.”
Flipside
And Just like that, I was free and clear for another six months. I was lucky that day but, as I witnessed in the waiting room, many weren’t as fortunate. I learned during those brief moments that life can change in an instant and once you hear that word, that dreaded “C” word, you flip from this side to the other side of cancer.
Stats
According to BreastCancerOrg, about 1 in 8 US women (just under 12%) will develop invasive breast cancer over the course of her lifetime. In 2011, an estimated 230,480 new cases of invasive breast cancer were expected to be diagnosed in women in the U.S., along with 57,650 new cases of non-invasive (in situ) breast cancer. The most significant risk factors for breast cancer are gender (being a woman) and age (growing older).
Looking on the bright side, in 2011, there were more than 2.6 million breast cancer survivors in the US and that’s primarily due to early detection.
Help
For more information on pre-screening or how to decipher your mammogram, which helped me immensely, click on the links below.
http://www.breastcancer.org/risk/
http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/testing/
http://www.cdc.gov/cancer/breast/basic_info/mammograms.htm
http://www.webmd.com/breast-cancer/guide/breast-cancer-screening-detection-overview
