This is the post excerpt.
I’m not a writer…so please don’t criticize my grammar.Just let me write my thoughts. Let me share my story. I get therapy from jotting down what’s on my mind. Maybe you can relate? Maybe you can’t. That’s cool. If you can be here for me, I will be here for you.
Happy Birthday to Me! Yesterday I turned 53. No cake to celebrate no happiness. I am in a place of darkness. I’m angry. I been far from God these last few months and now I’m beginning to think I’m being punished for that. I know that’s ridiculous my God doesn’t punish people. But why is that the place our brains go to immediately when something goes wrong?
It was easy to go there. It’s January 5th 2018. I wanted so bad to be there. These long, cold and gloomy days and nights of winter feels like darkness in my brain. Thank you Midwest!
We’re in the car, my husband and I. On our way to Jainesville, Wisconsin. So far you ask? Insurance reasons and the necessity of this high tech machine that’s going to smash my tit, insert a needle that’s going to open up a small vacuume to suck away some tissue that is needed for the answer I was told I was sure to get! No cancer. Only a small percentage of woman go on to further testing. I was a good patient during that stereotactic biopsy. I held real still as my boob was compressed into a flat but thick pancake. The quadrants were gathered and the crosshairs were zerod in on my vulnerable flattened titti. This small but capable doctor smiled at me as he shot “it” with lidocaine. Yes, right in the exposed area of my breast that didn’t quite make the cut of protection under the plastic shield. The pretty little nurse held my hand, looked me right in the eyes while saying don’t look, don’t look. Bless her heart. She really made me feel quite safe. So for this I thanked her.
ALL of a sudden I hear this pop she warned me about. Though nothing quite prepared me for the following description. Insert thicker needle with a vacuum at the tip. This vacuum was going to gather up a bunch of tissue samples that would be sent to a pathologist who would finally give me that fucking answer I so desperately wanted. This beast of a machine was not done with me yet! After sucking up my tissue samples through a tube above my right eye like the bank teller calling the canister that contained our weekly earnings, I breathed a sigh of relief. Please God release my boob now I pleaded with the big guy upstairs. Unfortunately I wasn’t quite done. I felt this sensation throughout my boob ( it didn’t hurt but was uncomfortable) and when I asked wtf was going on the doc said he was cleaning me up by pumping saline solution around my breast. Ok. Surely I must be done. Nope. A few more steps which included another small pop ( a titanium clip being inserted to mark the spot for further testing.. just in case) a few more mammograms, needle ejects, boob released, quick compression on my injured tit. She is weeping openly. Ice packs. Your good to go. Heck yea! Give me my clothes now where’s the door? Not before seeing my breast tissue smeared all over these slides which I got to view magnified umpteen times on the screen. ✔ All done! Food please🍔
It’s December 20th, 2017 and the craziness of Christmas is coming to an end. Thank goodness I was pretty much almost done. With the promise of more testing to come I was unsure of how much more stress I could take.
I show up bright and early for my mammogram and expecting it all to go smoothly. You know…not being in that small percentage that needs further testing. Holding, touching, squeezing…..now hold your breath. For a minute I started humming that song by Jouney. After a good hour of having my left boob squeezed in a vice, it was over. She was great! Can I say that? She showed me my film up on the screen and circled the areas of concern. Corncern? Wait….you mean you’re still worried?
I was told to have a seat and the doctor was going to evaluate my pictures and then come and talk to me. What? You mean now? He was here? Waiting for MY results? Oh, God! This was not going according to the scenario I played in my mind the night before.
The room started closing in on me. I started to feel the way I feel just before having a full blown panic attack. Those of you that suffer from these debilitating attacks can relate. Yes? The heart flutters, breathing intensifies, palms sweaty yet cold. Where’s my paper bag when I need it? The door opens and the doc enters. Tall, dark and handsome. Surely he has good news. A man with an angel face does not deliver bad news right?
Wrong! All I hear is this; Multiple amorphous and punctute microcalcification in a pattern that is suspicious. He tells me on the Bi-Rad scale of 1 to 5 with 5 being consistent with cancer I’m a 4. I need a breast biopsy. Yepper…im in that small percentage. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I do a Nancy Kerrigan “Whhhhhy?”
My life hasn’t been all roses and rainbows. In fact there has been a lot of struggles. Growing up in a house where there was a lot of abuse was not normal. At least I figured that out at an early age. My life was not normal. I think I did a good job of making it seem like I was okay and we were happy. I mean we went to good schools, we took family trips and my mom and dad were still married. Happily? Not even close. I remember the days like they were yesterday. The screaming, swearing, name calling. The hiding, the crying, the closing of my eyes tight wishing it would all just go away.
Well, here I am again closing my eyes tight wishing it would all just go away. Why am I being punished again? Why am I being given more than I feel I can handle. Flashback to December of 2017. I’m 52 just about to celebrate my 53rd birthday Why not celebrate it by getting my mammogram before the year is over. Yes, why not?
So, I went and was happy to be done with it. Because really, who loves going to get your boob squeezed in a vice? Not this girl. No, not me. So, I went and I forgot all about it. A few days later I got a call that I’ve never gotten from my doctor before and she tells me that I have to go back again for some more images. Nothing to worry about. Many women get called back. Yea, all right. No problem.
So I make an appointment. No big deal. Right?