“I mean, how many times am I going to have to keep coming
back every six months? Nothing has changed since the beginning. I just woke up
and found a lump and went to the doctor right away. I don’t understand why we
keep looking at it. Shouldn’t it be biopsied? I’ve been here three times for
the same tests and I don’t want to keep coming back every six months.”
The young ultrasound tech kept on task but then said, “Do
you want a biopsy?” I responded with, “Well isn’t that what you’re supposed to
do? Isn’t that the only way we’ll know?” To which she said, “Well I know I
would want to know.”
So then just do it. She wasn’t sure whether she could
schedule an immediate ultrasound. But in the moment, I knew it had to happen. I
reminded me of a conversation I had had with Mary. My nipple was pointed down
and had been for the entire year. I had pointed that out the last time I went
in for my ultrasound six months earlier. But I was told this was common. I knew
it wasn’t common for Mary and in fact, it was cancer. It wasn’t right for me
either.
And so the action I have fervently sought over a year ago was
finally going to happen.
In the moment, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What took
you so long?”
Let me tell you, that biopsy wasn’t at all pleasant. I did
not want to hear about or discuss the logistics of it. I told Tracey, the
nurse, that I needed my headphones so I could listen to the loudest music
possible. I stumbled around and found Billy Squire’s, “In the Dark.” And it
played almost 7 times. The core needle
biopsy sounds like a gun going off; feeling not unlike a large needle, ejecting
itself into the underside of my nipple. Only six or so times did this gun go
off. And there was blood mixed with iodine everywhere.
I left the clinic feeling as though I had been violated on
some level. Raped in a strange way. So incredibly vulnerable. I stood outside the car and felt the warmth of my tears flow down my
cheeks. Light snow was falling. It was peaceful and quiet. And then it occurred to me that there was no way I was going to my mother’s for dinner. Even my choir
practice seemed like more effort than I had as I drove away from the imaging
center.
At least it was over with. Now I could get on with it.
Someone would agree to take the damn lump out. I’d only been waiting for over a
year.
