Written
by: Jenne
[Authors
note: When these events took place I was living in the UK. My
experiences are related to the British health system which may
vary to the American one in it's treatment methods]
Not
many of us think of our breasts as being part of our identity,
they are just part of us. That's what I used to think too and
then one day about 16 months ago my perception of what they mean
to me personally changed. Why the change? I hear you ask...
16
months ago I discovered a lump in my breast, it wasn't anything
large it was just a lump about the size of a pea but none the
less it was a lump. I tried ignoring it, I hide my head in the
sand and I pretended it didn't exist but eventually I realized
that it was time to wake up. Looking back I just thought it would
go away if I did nothing. Two months after I first discovered
it I finally realized it wasn't going to disappear and that it
was actually getting bigger.
Eventually I couldn't ignore it anymore despite my best efforts
to do just that. I made a doctors appointment and can clearly
remember being sat in the Doctors office telling him what I'd
found. After an examination of the offending breast, I was told
that I needed to see a specialist and an appointment would be
made and to try not to worry. I was told that because the lump
was painful to the touch it was a good sign. I wasn't convinced
but as I'm no expert I had no choice but to wait for the specialist
appointment to arrive.
I began to do some research on the Internet and to some extent
that put my mind at rest. According to the statistics only one
in five lumps are found to be cancerous. That narrowed the odds
a little in my mind but still it was hard not to worry.
A
week later I found myself sat outside the breast clinic, desperately
trying to convince myself that everything would be okay. This
sounds easier than it actually is when you're sat in a waiting
room full of posters telling you about mastectomy!
I sat there for about 15 minutes drinking the coffee that had
been offered to me on arrival. Most of the time I avoided looking
at anyone, but I couldn't help wonder how many of the other people
in that room had actually been diagnosed already. I tried so hard
not to think of anything at all as I sat there listening to snippets
of conversation.
Ever sat and read a magazine but never actually read a word? Heard
a conversation but not really heard a word? That was what it was
like that morning. I sat there cool, calm and collected on the
surface, smiling politely but inside I was a trembling wreck who
was trying to stop the fear and doubts from resurfacing.
Finally
I heard my name called. I walked through with the nurse who tried
to put me at ease. I was whisked away into a small cubicle asked
to remove my top, lay back relax and wait for the doctor and to
not worry.
I wanted to scream you try not worrying but instead just nodded
politely and lay waiting once more. Finally the Doctor arrived.
A nice, unassuming guy who politely asked me some questions and
then began to exam me, whilst constantly reassuring me that I
probably had nothing to worry about. About fifteen minutes later
I was dressed again and waiting for the Doctor to return. The
exam itself wasn't much of a trial, just what my own Doctor had
done, the difference was I knew this guy specialized in all things
breast related.
When
he returned I wasn't sure I liked the look on his face, but kept
smiling. "It's a small lump and I don't think you have anything
to worry about but we'll do a biopsy just in case", he informed
in that matter of fact way that Doctors do. At this point I began
to get scared, a biopsy to me meant major surgery back then. "We
can do that for you now," he informed me. I rechecked that
he'd said the word, " now" before letting him continue
to explain the process. He then left I assumed to get ready.
Another
15 minutes passed and the nurse who was assigned to me was brilliant.
Chatting and trying to put my mind at rest. Now I was asked to
follow her to a smaller more sterile looking room where I was
asked to remove my top and bra and lay on my side. I followed
the instructions, trying not to tremble too much as the realization
that this was MY breast they were about to perform minor surgery
on. For me this was the point that all this became real.
In came the doctor and he proceeded to perform the operation.
A really, really simple procedure involving local anesthetic and
an instrument that I can only describe as looking like a staple
gun but with a pointed end. Basically it shot a very small needle
into my breast at high pressure and then shot it back out again.
This was how they collected a tiny sample of tissue from the lump
that was buried deep in the tissue.
By now there were three nurses in the room and the Doctor. Was
I scared? Hell yes. Was I worried? A little but I didn't really
have time to think it was over so fast. Before I knew it this
needle had been shot in and out at high velocity and it was all
over in the blink of an eyelid. All that was left was a tiny puncture
wound. This was dressed and I was made to sit quietly for a while
not that I really felt like doing anything else at this point
in time.
Before
he left the room the Doctor reassured me that he'd seen many such
lumps and they had in the main turned out to benign, this was
just a precaution. An appointment was made for me to return in
48 hours when the results would be back from the lab.
Up until this point I had been fine, even as I walked out to the
parking lot I was fine. It wasn't until I got into the car that
all that had happened over the past hour or so finally hit me.
I sat in the car and sobbed my heart out. My breast hurt to it's
core but, my heart hurt even more as I realized I was still faced
with the reality that I still had a further two days to wait for
the results.
All the what if's that I'd hidden for so long surfaced as I sat
sobbing against the steering wheel. I suddenly realized how important
my breasts were to me. How much they defined me as a women. They
aren't big, they aren't small but they are part of me and who
I am. I'd never really thought about how I would feel if I were
to lose one, not up until that point in time anyway. Now suddenly
I had to think about it and the thought scared me more than I
can say.
Eventually,
I regained my composure and went home where I slept for a good
few hours. My breast hurt but it was my mind that really hurt.
All the what if's would surface and well around in what seemed
like an other wise empty cavern.
Two
days later, although those 48 hours seemed like a lifetime, I
was sat back in the small cubicle waiting to see the Doctor again.
He walked in informed me that the lump was benign and there was
nothing to worry about. I can't put into words the way I felt
when he told me. My breast still hurt but it was going to remain
part of me, so I could cope with that until it was healed.
Nowadays,
I don't take my breasts for granted and I hope that by sharing
my experiences with you, none of you will either. I don't want
others to go through the hours of needless worrying that I did.
I now realize hiding my head in the sand wasn't the answer I needed.
What I needed was answers and all that stopped me getting them
was fear. If you feel a lump get it checked, please don't wait
because your scared
