So I thought I’d be posting about midwife stuff.
Instead, I’m bawling into a wad of Kleenex after the second of what’s going to be a whole series of breast biopsies. Not that this is anything new. I’ve had cysts aspirated and densities sampled, and ultrasounds and mammograms–all in excess of the usual surveillance undertaken by good girls. Hey, I’m in the business. I don’t believe in the talismanic properties of medical tests, but I do them anyway.
This time seems different. Had the mammogram and got called back for more. Nothing unusual about that; it happens every time. I don’t even bring my husband these days. Then I was told I needed a fine needle aspiration. Still not alarming. But it must not be too fine a needle, as the radiologist left behind a titanium marker shaped like the stupid pink breast cancer bow. I didn’t get a vote, he just showed me the pictures and there it was: bow marks the spot.
Only it didn’t. Missed it by an inch. The Area Of Interest is deep, so I get invited to do a stereotactic biopsy. This one’s like being in a weird sex film–I’m face down, utterly helpless, boob dangling though a hole with people I can’t see sticking needles in it. And my husband’s in the next room (ok, I chickened out and brought him this time). There’s nobody to hold my hand. The technologist presses on my back, but I get the feeling it’s more about keeping me still than for comfort. It’s embarrassing because because I can’t breathe when I’m on my stomach. I’m snuffling and snorting, trying to keep the table dry, and they think I’m losing it–which I mostly only do in private.
So this time the marker’s in the right place. I don’t notice if it’s shaped like a bow or a bunny or what, because I’m riveted to the screen. Dunno why we bother with mammograms when there’s this kind of imaging. It clearly shows a mass. Not the “density” they’ve been whispering about, but a real mass. The radiologist calls it “very concerning.” It has spiky edges. The crablike kind that gives cancer its name.
Nobody says cancer yet (and if they keep not saying cancer I’m gonna be really embarrassed about this meltdown), but they want me back for another stereotactic hoo-haw the day after tomorrow. This time to sample smaller bright spots around the big spot. Everybody’s being very kind, very attentive, very professional. And I’d sooner stick my head in a toilet than step through their doors again. But guess what? I’ll be there Thursday morning, bright and early. Leaving the bells at home.