A Piece of Paper

I skipped two mammograms. If you learn nothing else from me- don’t skip your mammogram. Yes, I went to the gynecologist every year- because an annual check-up was mandatory for my birth control refill. And at the end of the appointment, they gave me a slip of paper with a number to call to schedule my mammogram. But life happened. I had a lot going on. I met a new guy (after a tumultuous multi-year divorce from the pits of hell)…we were building a house…my dad was sick (blog for another day)… I was busy at work (I love my job)…and I had a teenager. A year later at the end of my annual check-up they handed me another piece of paper. But life happened. I had a lot going on. I got married…my dad was sicker…my daughter was graduating high school…I was trying to schedule a vacation.

Then it happened- I felt the lump. Later I would find I still had the crumpled piece of paper tightly embedded in the bottom corner of my purse. I waited a few days and told my husband, Jay. In all honesty, I thought the lump would go away. Sometimes that can happen- lumps caused by hormonal changes. I was 49. Jay did not take the news lightly. Every day for four days he asked if I had called the doctor. On the fifth day I texted by friend Sherri, she was the office manager at my gynecologist’s office. “Hey, I lost that little piece of paper to schedule my mammogram and I found a lump. Can you send me another one or tell me where to call?” Text from Sherri, “I’m calling you”. Sherri was serious and to the point “You can’t just go get a mammogram when you find a lump, you need to come in to the office and be checked. You’ll need a special mammogram. Can you be here in an hour?” Needless to say, after the office visit my doctor sent me for a diagnostic mammogram at the local hospital the next day. I was told they would have the results in 3-4 days. Thirty minutes after leaving the hospital, Sherri called. I was standing in the middle of a department store with Jay, holding onto a rack. She said, I don’t want you to be alarmed… there is something there…you need a biopsy….can you meet with the surgeon tomorrow…I am going to pray for you right now. I hung up the phone and looked at Jay and said, “I told you it was bad”.

From the moment I found the lump, I knew. I knew it was cancer. Don’t ask me how, I just knew. I have always had the most intense gut feelings, intuition, whatever you want to call it. My gut is always right.

Jay is always the easy going optimist. You are fine, we are going to get this biopsy done. It’s all going to be just fine. He is a great compliment to by anxiety fueled personality.

I tried to pray. I find it very difficult to pray for myself. I judge my prayers. Am I being selfish? Are there bigger things in this world I need to pray about? It was like I was asking for favor and I felt undeserving. And let’s face it, it had been awhile since I had talked to God.

Jay accompanied me to the surgeon’s office. My surgeon was very compassionate and very upfront and honest. He never used the word cancer. I didn’t realize that until later. He said It’s not benign.. He said those words three times during that visit and looked me right in the eye each time to make sure I was understanding.  He said he was going to proceed with the biopsy and the pathology would be back in 3-4 days and that would determine my course of treatment. Everything in that office that day seems like a blur now. I remember when he pulled up my ultrasound and showed the mass to me it looked almost like a daisy, almost pretty in a way and that seemed odd to me. He said a benign mass would be round with defined edges and mine definitely was not. The surgeon told us to use the 3-4 days to think about if I wanted a mastectomy or lumpectomy. I immediately said I wanted both of my breasts removed. I think everyone was startled that I blurted that out, especially without consulting Jay, but Jay immediately followed up with “Can you remove them right now?”. Jay also mentioned our upcoming beach trip in two days, which I had completely forgotten about. The surgeon said “You need to take the vacation. You are about to enter the fight of your life and you need to be strong and refreshed, go.”. I asked if he would call me with the pathology report in case he was wrong and it was negative. He said, I don’t give bad news on the phone. I will have the results on Wednesday and I will call you if it is negative. But I know it’s not benign…you aren’t going to get a call from me. He was right.

I remember walking out of that office just numb. I even left Jay at the check out desk and just walked to the car and called my mom. I couldn’t even talk. I just cried. I cried for three solid days. And on the third day, I sucked it up.