How I Navigated a Recent Health Scare

This past month has been extremely challenging for me.

It started with my regular annual mammogram whereupon I got a callback (the dreaded call back) that there was a "possible developing focal asymmetry" and that I needed to come back for more images and an ultrasound.

I tried not to freak out. I really did, but I've never been one for being able to compartmentalize. And I'm pretty sure I have a ridiculously large amygdala that makes my brain go to catastrophic places when it should just be gathering facts.

Just 2 weeks prior to getting the mammogram, I had actually forgotten that I hadn't scheduled one yet for this year. I was accompanying a good friend to a chemotherapy treatment at Dana Farber in Boston as she has been battling a rare breast cancer.

Seeing her lying there with that drip....her hands freezing from ice gloves that need to be put on to prevent her worsening neuropathy from the chemo; it hit me in a profound way. She tried to explain the exhaustion to me but as an always-tired empath, I could almost embody that weariness and tiredness just by being around her.

She said, "I hope you've scheduled your mammogram."

I hadn't but scheduled it when I got home that day.

I came back on May 25th for my second round of imaging and also an ultrasound, thinking there is nothing going on and that because I have dense breast tissue, they were probably having a harder time seeing if there was some unusual shadowing or whatever.

I laid on the table in the dark-as-midnight room. Looking up, the hospital made a wise choice to depict a shiny nature scene above, which did temporarily make the experience a tad bit more tolerable.

Having had 3 pregnancies, I thought I knew my way around a sonogram or two and looked with furtive eyes and donning my diagnostic and acute radiology skills from hours of previous google searches. (sarcasm intended here folks, I'm no dunning-kruger)

Expecting to see nothing, I was shocked when the technician landed on a very visible, oval shaped lump.

"What is that!" I asked her.

"That's what we're looking for", she said.

At that moment, it was as if my body melted through the table, fell through the floor and went into a state of derealization.

The tears welled up automatically. The technician was kind - she said to take things step-by-step and not worry until there is something to worry about. Doesn't she know that my Mom tried that line of reasoning on me for years to no avail?

The doctor came in and gave me no indication of what it was or what was going on. I was in shock and of course had so many questions but my brain could not form sentences.

She said that I needed a breast biopsy to determine what it was.

All I could sputter out was..."how big is it?"

"1/2 a centimeter", she told me, giving me absolutely no context.

I left crying and floated into my husband's arms who was waiting for me in the waiting room.

I endured 2 and a half weeks of waiting to get the first available appointment for a breast biopsy. It was hell. As a highly sensitive person prone to anxiety and OCD, my brain went to some very dark places. It was hard to parent my kids. It was hard to hide my fear. It was hard to imagine having to tell them if it was indeed cancer.

I got the biopsy on June 12th which was far less scary and uncomfortable than I had built it up to be in my head and went home with very little swelling or pain.

Every day was a battle of will to get it all out of my head and get through the day.

5-7 business days of waiting turned into 7-9 business days and by the tenth I was sufficiently freaked out enough to call the nurse.

Why hadn't I called earlier? Pure fear. Not knowing was good news in my mind.

Finally, I got a call back last Wednesday that I have a rare but benign bland spindle cell lesion. A Myofibroblastoma.

It's so uncommon that one of the reasons it took so long to get my call-back with results is because they wanted to assemble a team of pathologists, radiologists and breast specialists to assess my case.

Got the great news that the specialists unanimously agreed that I don't need to get surgery to remove it. It will be more of a check every 6-months type of thing.

I'm relieved beyond words but also feel incredibly drained. This has taken a toll on me - especially the waiting. I've doom-dreamed in the past about what hell it would be like to have to wait for biopsy-results and in that regard reality sure lived up to the hype.

Thanks for reading and caring. I wasn't ready to talk about it until I had the full story. And to be totally honest, it's still been hard to talk about it.  

Let me end by saying this: Preventative health measures matter!  Get that colonoscopy, mammogram, yearly physical or whatever it is that you’ve been putting off.  The sooner you detect something, the easier it is to deal with, more times than not.