When I decided to get a tattoo, I knew I wanted something meaningful. I'm not knocking anyone who has Hello Kitty, punctuation, or a Tazmanian Devil, but for me, if I was putting something permanently on my body, I wanted to make sure it would still have meaning in 40 years. I finally decided on my awareness ribbons (see above), something that showed love and support for important people in my life.
Purple- Alzheimer's Disease for my Mom-Mom
Orange- Leukemia for my Daddy
Red&
Blue- Congenital Heart Defects for Me!
Yellow- Support the Troops for my friend Sean who fought in both Iraq and Afghanistan
Pink- Breast Cancer for my Mommy and 8 other strong women in my family
I got inked in 2006, and right before my February 2008 wedding, my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Shortly after his diagnosis, dad asked if I was going to add a blue ribbon to my collection. I laughed and told him, sorry, one ribbon per person.
I received my lupus diagnosis in August that same year, and I remembered my one ribbon per person rule; I quickly learned purple was the color for lupus awareness. I was the exception to my own rule.
When the surgeon said I needed to get the mass on breast biopsied, the possibility of having yet another disease to make my personal ribbon count three, broke my heart.
Last Friday I had the mammogram and biopsy; my nerves were already shot to hell, plus I couldn't eat so I was a
cranky bitch super grouch. Steve was just as on edge as me, but at least he had the luxury of coffee.
When taken back, I was given a locker for my belongings, and told to put on a waffle-knit robe. Had I not known that I was at the Cooper Cancer Institute, I would've thought it was the spa.
First up, the diagnostic mammogram. IV was placed on the first time, contrast dye injected, and before I knew it, my boobs were squeezed like they were in a vice from wood shop class. This was much worse than a regular mammogram, plus there were extra views. As the nurse was taking each picture, she said "don't breathe!" and I remember thinking,"DONT WORRY I CANT!"
The radiologist immediately looked at the images and said the mass lit up from the IV contrast, which can be indicative of cancer.
Enter tachycardia stage right.
In the waiting room before the US and biopsy, I cried. That feeling of impending doom washed over me, like I already knew the outcome.
The biopsy was uneventful, another radiologist did the procedure. She numbed me up, and soon enough was digging away. Whatever type of instrument is used sounds like a drill from the dentist. Thank God for lidocaine!
The doctor was asking me all about lupus and my heart defect, told me I was incredibly knowledgeable and suggested I go into medicine when "all of this is over." Let's get through the biopsy before I think about med school! One step at a time.
I was steri-stripped and bandaged up by a tech, given instructions, ice packs for my soon-to-be-sore boob, and she explained since it was Friday afternoon that I wouldn't hear until Wednesday.
Who the fuck thinks it's good for anyone's sanity to schedule a biopsy on a Friday afternoon?!!?
The next 4 days felt like the longest of my life. The bruise on my breast was black, and it looked like some crazy rope-suspension BDSM shit gone terribly wrong, or a titty twister from The Hulk.
On the bright side, the instructions said I couldn't do laundry, vacuum, or lift anything over 5 pounds for 3-5 days, and I may or may not have milked that a little more than deemed necessary.
I can't put into words how terrified waiting for for the results made me. Breast cancer took my grand mom from my mother when she just 9 years old, changing her life forever; the disease has terrorized every woman on mom's side of the family, and my Mom-Mom (
my dad's mom) fought the disease. And now, at 32, it was coming after me.
I ransacked my bathroom cabinets while sobbing, throwing away anything with parabens, cursing myself for not being more mindful of the lotions and potions I put on my body. (
I didn't throw away my deodorant, because hello, I sweat like a pig). I rifled through my vanity and got rid of a ton of makeup if I wasn't sure of the ingredients. I spent time on The Googles, on discussion boards, trying to soak up as much knowledge as I could. I used my juicer 5 or 6 times, hoping the organic fruits and veggies would magically shrink the mass.
And, when I wasn't doing any of that, I decided it would be a good idea to start binge watching
Dexter. Because when you're freaking out about your own mortality, watching a show that revolves around a (
super fine hunny) sociopath serial killer is clearly the way to get your mind off things.
The weekend was excruciating, and I think I racked up a whopping total of 6-7 hours of sleep. Come Monday morning, knowing I still had 2 full days of waiting was agonizing. Every time my phone rang or a text came through, my heart stopped, yet if it was silent for more than 15 minutes, I would stare at it willing it to ring.
More
Dexter. Lunch with
Brie. Online discussion boards. Playoff hockey. Lots of coffee. A manicure.
Dexter.
At 6:13 on Tuesday evening, while out to dinner with Steve, Pete and Brie, my phone rang. I knew exactly who was on the other end (
well duh, caller ID), and once again, my heart stopped.
I felt like Elle Woods in
Legally Blonde, with all her sorority sisters silent as she opens her LSAT scores, and screams out "179!" Brie, Pete and Steve were silent and staring...
BENIGN!!!! Cheers all around!
The biopsy came back showing
atypical lobular hyperplasia, which is basically pre-cancer, or as I like to call it, Cancer-In-Training. Even though it is benign, I need to have surgery, a lumpectomy, to get that bad boy out. If left alone, the mass can eventually become malignant. No chemo (
if it had been malignant, the mass was 1.5cm, and anything over 1cm is an indication for chemo) or radiation. No big, fat fake hooties.
I spoke to the breast surgeon yesterday about the results and surgery. After 4 heart surgeries, this will be another walk in the park. She explained that although the biopsy came back benign, there is always a (
very small) possibility somewhere else on the mass could be lobular carcinoma in situ (
LCIS), and to be prepared.
I'm not 100% out of the woods just yet, but I feel so much better, the proverbial weight lifted. The spring is back in my step, and Ann and I celebrated yesterday with Starbucks and pedicures!
Lobular breast masses are not detectible on mammogram, which is why mine came back clean last August. In September when my gynecologist suggested I meet with a geneticist and oncologist, I didn't go until February. When the oncologist suggested a breast MRI and requested authorization from my health insurance company, I almost blew it off altogether. The insurance company called Steve twice, reminding him that I hadn't had gone for the test, and that the authorization was going to soon expire.
I went for the MRI two days before the authorization was up. Two days. If I had blown it off, it could have been cancer by the time it was found. I joked to a friend that I finally went for the test out of boredom, nothing better to do with my time since I'm not working.
I'd like to think somehow, some way, my grandmom Minerva (
my namesake) and Mom-Mom were watching over me, making sure I made that call and had the MRI.
Thank you to Steve, Brie, Pete, PJ, Mom & Dad, Danielle C., and Danielle B. (
you talked me off the fucking ledge) for getting me through the weekend.
Only 2 of those ribbons are for me!
Love you all <3
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