The night of the 5th I spent a significant amount of time researching breast lumps, their characteristics, and diagnoses.
Wednesday, July 6th, 1:30pm I sat in the waiting room at the imagine center, still not quite sure if it was going to be a biopsy or a lumpectomy. I was nervous and my voice cracked when speaking to the receptionist. I tried to impress upon them how important finding out quickly was. It was Wednesday and Ryan was taking Step 1 on Monday, so we needed answers... like yesterday. They were nice and said they would try and push results and that they would let me know as soon as they had any information.
I sat back down for a minute before a blonde woman called my name. She led me back to a dimmed room with an ultra sound machine, handed me a gown and told me to put it on.
I put it on and sat on the table, I figured I might be there for a while, so I decided to lay down on the table and get comfortable.
The blonde woman came back and come to find out she was the radiology tech who would be helping with the procedure. She was fairly cold and not overly friendly at all. I said, "I've been doing a lot of research online and ... I'm here because I have a hypo-echoic lump with irregular borders ... is that about right?"
She looked at me, told me I shouldn't look at anything online and said, "here read this." I wasn't sure what "this" was until I realized it was the radiologist's notes about the ultrasound... "2.2 cm...", "significant abnormal blood flow," "to be considered malignant until proven otherwise."
Okay, that's what I'd suspected, but the was a pretty sterile way of finding out.
What do you say to something like that? Um, thank you?
I laid back down on the table and prepped for whatever this biopsy would entail. As a nursing mom, I was concerned that that might be affected, but who knew.
The moment the radiologist entered the room I didn't like his style. Cold, unfeeling, and as a highly educated woman, I do not like being talked down to ... ever. I asked why a biopsy vs. a lumpectomy -- a valid question! -- and he acted like I was stupid, "You really want a chunk taken out at your age?" "They'll treat it differently if it's cancer."
If? Are we really beating around the bush? If?
We all know it's cancer and the earlier you just acknowledge that the faster we can kick it's ...
Anyway ... I digress.
The tech scrubbed me in as it were, betadine and sterling towels and all. She warned me that the HUGE needle would be loud, but that I should feel anything because of the lidocaine.
Have I ever mentioned I love lidocaine? Like LOVE!?
Well, he gave me the lidocaine and I couldn't feel much until he shot the first needle... and it hurt. Like a two-second delay hurt and it wasn't a surface hurt, it was a deep internal "well crap that hurt!" hurt. I said "Ow!" and they said, "oh... did that hurt?" Honestly without caring at. all.
Twenty more minutes of small talk (aka me listening to the doctor talk incessantly about himself even after asking me questions about me) and the second and third which didn't hurt as much and to which the doctor said, "You relaxed after the first one." Ya think!? You were a total non-help and I was talking myself off the cliff of telling you to peace out as I ran out the door because neither of you even cared that it hurt.
The tech bandaged me up and told me not to shower for 48 hours. (Note to self, always shower before a doctor's visit.)
I walked to the car a little dejected. Had that really just happened? Was everyone really just tiptoeing around the nasty "c" word?
Then came the waiting game ...
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