My First Mammogram

(I don’t have cancer) (This has all the gory details of mammograms and biopsies.)

Part I

No one brings a friend to their mammogram.  Even if people did before, we are in a pandemic now and we aren’t allowed to bring extra people to doctor appointments.  Even when I’d bring Mom in for her yearlys, I’d always stay in the waiting room.  It was a huge unknown when the doctor roped me into coming for my first mammogram this year.

After our telehealth visit, I had a call from the imaging company.

“Your doctor says you need a mammogram.”

“Yes, but I work now and will only come in on a Tuesday or Thursday morning.” I said assuming that they would pick a date in a month or two.

“We scheduled you for tomorrow at 10:15”

“Fine.”

It wasn’t as painful as some women warned me and the technician was professional and kind. She let me keep my cross on too which was a comfort. Totally not so bad.

They called me with the results the next day.  They wanted me to come in for a second procedure. 

I told a couple of friends about the call back and explained that I had a lump back in 1995 that was biopsied and hasn’t changed.  That’s probably what they found.  Most of my girlfriends concurred and related stories of how common it is to be called back.  One friend hinted at cancer, but I figuratively stuck my fingers in my ears and sang a song.

The memories of that first biopsy twenty-five years ago are hazy.  How I went from finding the lump to being in the hospital have been lost.  I had no medical insurance.  They may have decided that a mammogram wouldn’t be helpful or that it was too expensive.  The young man who performed the biopsy was a student and this was his first. 

I remember the teacher at his side saying, “You have to push the needle in further or else we’ll have to do this again.  Don’t be nervous.”

My friend Ople, who was a few years younger than my grandma, was there to hold my hand.  She spent her time in the room watching the young man’s pants and gave me a play by play afterwards.  She helped sear that memory into my mind, but I’d give anything to have her here with me again.  I woke up at midnight feeling anxious.  It’s probably nothing but that old lump but between wondering why they brought me in and feeling nervous about what kind of procedure is in store for me today, I feel very unhappy.

Part II

The procedure I dreaded consisted of another mammogram and an ultrasound.  I knew something was wrong when they did the mammogram. 

“I’ll be imaging your right breast,” she told me.

That made me feel better and for a brief moment I felt confident that everything was as expected.  She imaged that area I knew about, but then she imaged another area.  The ultrasound followed. 

When the tech gave me the line about how nice and warm her ultrasound gel was, I had beautiful memories of getting a peak at my babies, having ultrasounds where it was right to hope to see something.  This was opposite and the calcifications on the old lump that could mean new growth and the cluster of calcifications closer to my armpit were even worse.

It was a relief when the doctor who came in, the first man of my experience in the office, was a gray haired man with a grandfatherly distinguished look and not a young buck.  His quick look with the ultrasound was all business, and he was kind when he explained what had been seen and how they would do a couple of biopsies to make sure neither area was cancerous.

I can’t bring myself to say biopsy without choking up though I’m trying to stay strong and detached.  It’s my first mammogram and they have to be extra sure that everything checks out.  Next year they will have previous images to refer too and the chances of being called back will be less likely.

I still can’t bring myself to say biopsy.  It’s even hard to write it.  I don’t want to be on prayer lists or cause a big fuss over something that is routine.  As far as is known, all is well.  It’s just the possibility of being otherwise that is causing me great anxiety and misery.  Exercise is down.  Chocolate consumption and television binge watching is up.  They are the go-to coping mechanisms I used when Mom died.

I’ve been thinking about self-care a lot this week.  Is it self-care to indulge myself in all these things that bring fleeting happiness but make me feel worse in general?  Or would self-care look more like forcing myself to keep to my low carb, low sugar diet and daily exercise regime?  One of the temptations of comfort foods like the plate of mashed potatoes and short ribs I ate when Mike took me out the night of the second mammogram and ultrasound is the blurriness in my bodily sensations.  Is that indigestion or a ball of fear in my gut?  It’s nicer to blame it on dessert, a temporary discomfort that will resolve itself by tomorrow.

I wrote a story about my friend Chris who passed away, added something about my fear of mammograms and asked for prayer.  Most of my friends don’t know the details because on some level I really am a private person, but their prayers are going in the general right direction.  I felt myself lifted up.

Last night I had a comforting dream.  In my dream Mike and I decided that since it was a three day weekend, we would take a trip.  I wanted to go somewhere there was water and in dream like fashion, we saw that Albuquerque was on the way.  When we arrived at our church All Saints of North America there were no pandemic restrictions and the church looked different.  We came as the service was ending and when we came in, Father George was there.  It didn’t seem at all strange to see him though he passed away about six years ago.  He was wearing his priestly garments and looked happy.  He raised his arms in blessing.  Mike and I turned towards the alter and bowed.  We were about to leave but Father George stopped me.  He put his hand on my arm just below my right shoulder and prayed for me.  A warmth filled me.  He told me to come again soon.

From there we went on a dream like adventure when I was trying to get to the ocean, but every way was blocked.  I ended up satisfied that I could take a picture of Mike and I with the ocean and the sunset in the background even though my camera was blurry.

I woke up feeling so blessed that Father George had visited me. It had been so real in the dream.  First thing this morning I tried to sign myself up for a Wednesday Liturgy but there isn’t one this week.  Because of the facemask restrictions, going to church is hard for the kids.  We are still holding Typica services in our homes most of the time and going to church every three to four weeks.

Water in my dreams usually represents being overwhelmed by feelings.  I woke up thankful that I haven’t been overwhelmed.  The blurry picture of the water and sunset to me is the fading of my memory of this time.

I missed Mom something fierce today when we were making pancakes.  Early Sunday morning texted Mother Barbara at the Nativity of our Lord Monastery to ask if Monday would be a good day for me to come visit Mom.  She encouraged me to make the two hour drive.  I’m sure Mom is praying for me now, but there is such comfort in being able to talk to her at her graveside and hug the marble cross which marks her head.

Part III

The three day weekend went quickly.  I took Jonah, Xenia, and Justin to the cemetery to visit Mom, out to lunch for hamburgers, and then to a pumpkin patch.  Spending so much time outdoors gave me a migraine and the rest of the evening was spent in bed.

Tuesday morning my bestie Christie and I met up at the school drop off and decided to have a spontaneous tea party.  Christy ran to the store for some baking powder, which I used to whip up a batch of scones.  She brought some home to her houseguest who’s staying with her for the week and I set aside the rest for my scheduled tea party with my newest friend Juanna who is from Jordan.  She left right as Mike said it was time for us to go out to lunch.  We ate at our favorite sushi handroll place.  So, by filling my days full with good people and good food, it was time for the biopsies and there hadn’t been time for a full on anxiety attack.  A constant sense of dread was easier to deal with.

I was glad for the facemasks.  Usually I try to look cheerful, but nothing could bring my fake smile all the way into my eyes. My hospital resting face was Mom’s unhappy grimace and no one was the wiser.

The started with a normal mammogram.  Not bad, but I felt the excessive number of x-rays mounting.  I liked this lady technician.  Even the way she told me to hold my breath and then breathe was comforting.  I read a book in the waiting room for another long while.  In the next room the woman asked me to remove my cross and my glasses.  Then she asked me to lie on a hard hospital bed on my side and contorted my body into the right shape.  My left arm over my head, hand gripping a handle below the bed.  Right shoulder forward, elbow just so, hand just so.  Another x-ray.  Repositioning.  Another x-ray.  Call the doctor.  The grip of the mammogram machine hurt, and I stayed still in that contorted fashion for at least five agonizing minutes.  The needle for the local pain killer hurt.  The biopsy hurt.  The doctor removed the samples and I saw the pink of my diluted blood drip down the inside of the hose. 

Out of the fuzzy dimness I heard the lady say, “Oh no doctor I forgot…” the words were lost to me. 

He replied, “I figure it’s fifty-fifty.” 

I had no idea what they were talking about.  Fifty percent chance they would have to repeat the procedure?  Fifty percent chance I had cancer?  Fifty percent chance the Cowboys would make it to The Superbowl?  I tried to get lost in my book in the waiting room afterwards to avoid fretting about it.  Someone asked me why I didn’t ask for clarification.  After all, I was paying for this procedure and they were working for me.  The whole experience of being posed half naked by a stranger who took pictures of me in that compromised position brought on all sorts of feelings of victimization.  I knew on some level that everything was medical and professional, but my gut response was to endure and escape.

The hospital bed for the second biopsy was less hard.  The woman had kind eyes and tried to make conversation.  I refused.

“How was the last biopsy?”

“It is what it is.” I replied.

It helped that ultrasounds are more familiar than mammograms to me.  I could lay on my back with my head on a pillow and they let me keep my glasses on.  The second biopsy wasn’t as painful either.

I pooh poohed their talk about ice packs as I left, but that evening when the local anesthesia wore off, I was thankful for those ice packs.  There was so much pain.  The constant doses of Tylenol did little to alleviate it.  Work on Wednesday was hard.  The pain lifted late Thursday morning though it’s been a week and the incisions still feel chafed. 

The biopsies were performed on Tuesday.  They said they would do their best to get me results before the weekend, but it could take three to five business days.

Wednesday night Justin dropped my phone and killed it.  I laughed.  It was such perfect timing to make this experience as worse as possible.  I could have had my results on Thursday but no.  They didn’t pay attention when I called on Thursday morning to give them an alternate phone number.

I came home from work late Friday morning to see that two packages had been delivered.  My phone and a lovely flower arrangement from my friend Melissa.  I was sitting with Mike while he set up my phone when the phone rang from an unknow number.  Since my contact list wasn’t accessible yet, all numbers were unknown, but I felt this was the call I was waiting for.

The nurse took as long as possible to indicate whether it was good news or bad.  She asked me if it was a good phone number and wondered that I hadn’t responded to any of her messages.  I told her the sad story.  Then she asked me for all sorts of identifying information.  I confirmed that it was me talking.  She said that they had biopsied the calcium clusters and that they were benign.  Then she said on the other side I had a fibroadenoma.  She paused for effect.  I waited.  That is also benign.

Mike was with me listening on speaker.

He commented, “It took her long enough to give you the results.”

I went out to the living room and told Mike’s mom who was sitting on the sofa.  She gave a happy air pump with her fists and said how happy she was.

I was filled with the conflicting emotions of relief and regret that I had ever put myself through everything.

Since I hadn’t told everyone the news and still didn’t have my phone full up and running, I sent out a cryptic email saying that the mammogram had gone well and put a message on social media that I was thankful for good health and for being pain free.  That meant more to some people than to others.

There’s a lot of chatter about mammograms.  The x-rays of mammograms could cause cancer.  It’s painful.  Don’t do it.  Then there’s my doctor who said, “I don’t want you to come in with a rash and find out you have stage four cancer and there’s nothing we can do.”  It felt that she was speaking from experience.  Then there’s the women in my life who I know that caught their cancer early with a mammogram and are living in full remission to tell about it.  Even though I suspect that I’m not going to be the woman who gets breast cancer, by getting my mammogram I am part of the movement of preventative care that saves lives.  It’s a benefit as well as the curse of living in these modern times of amazing medical advances.

I told my story to a friend and she says I should get a pap smear next.  Yeah.  Maybe next year.