Biopsy

 The morning of the 25th, I headed to the breast center for my biopsy.  This appointment was actually interesting to me.  The way the equipment was positioned relative to me, the tech, and the radiologist, I could view the ultrasound screen and watch the needle snap out for every sample taken from the mass.  The mass appeared on the ultrasound screen like a tiny ill-defined ghost shaped blip just casually hanging out next to my breast implant.  Every time the radiologist took a sample, the edges of the mass seemed to disappear.  Because the mass was not very defined and was fairly vague on the screen, the radiologist took over 10 sample to be sure he got a good sample from the mass.  By the end of the biopsy, the mass was even harder to identify on the screen.  I was given an ice pack and a compression top and sent home.

When I arrived home, I sat down to finish up some grading I needed to get done for my kids' homeschool courses.  I hadn't been sitting there long when my phone rang.  It was my mom.

I hadn't told my parents about the mass the MRI had identified and I had just got biopsied because my dad had been doctoring for health issues and I didn't want to worry my parents needlessly.  When I saw it was my mom calling, I was hoping she was calling with good news about the testing my dad had done the previous week.  When I heard my mom's voice, I knew good news was not what she had.  My dad had aggressive late-stage incurable lung cancer.  Now was not the time to let them know I'd had a biopsy that morning.  Heart-broken and exhausted, I couldn't dwell on my pending biopsy results.

Ultrasound

 January 23rd was the date of my breast ultrasound.  The most awkward part of this appointment really boiled down to the fact that I am pretty ticklish.  To get a good view of the mass, which was tucked up alongside the implant, the tech had to drag the ultrasound wand all over my armpit area.  I spent most of the time mentally trying to convince myself not to flinch.  After the tech finished up she went to get the radiologist, who immediately read the results.  He recommended a biopsy.  Based off of my history and the ultrasound results, he said he thought there was slightly more that a 20% chance the mass was cancerous.  Considering that before my first breast biopsy the radiologist said there was greater than a 95% chance I had cancer, 20% odds didn't worry me a lot.  I decided to try and continue living my life as optimistically as possible, until I had a definite reason not to.  The biopsy was scheduled quickly... for the 25th.  

Routine Follow Up Test

The turn of the year came and went with not much fan fare.  Sometimes early January hits me heavily and other times I realize it's passed in hindsight.  This year was an odd mixture of both.  January 4th is the anniversary date on which I was first diagnosed with breast cancer.  That date came and went in 2023 without me even realizing its significance.  It was a few days past that I realized it had been over seven years since cancer had been much more than a mere memory in life's rearview mirror.  The significance hit me oddly this year and I had a very short-lived moment of overbearing fear which caused me to suck in my breath and voice inside my head, "I wonder when cancer will be back?".  

I've come to realize that processing life is not about dismissing fear, but processing it through the lens of naming it for what it is, allowing yourself to feel it, identifying the different nuances around the feelings and allowing it to slip away until it needs to be processed some more.  So I allowed myself to feel those feelings, identified that they came from very real experiences which I have lived and slowly those feelings of fear slipped into the background.

In 2011, shortly after I had finished surgery, chemotherapy and the first steps of reconstruction, breast implants were surgically placed.  I was told that in around ten years I should have a breast MRI done to make sure the implants are still in good condition because sometimes an implant can develop a leak which is hard to identify in other ways.  

Back in December of last year, I decided to go ahead and schedule that MRI.  We had moved a year earlier and I had just established a new primary healthcare provider locally.  January 12th was the day the MRI was done.  It was a pretty straight forward test... slightly uncomfortable because you have to lie on your stomach with your arms above your head for a period of time, but really not a big deal.  

Being the realist that I am (my husband would say pessimist), I often process a range of scenarios, including worst case, so I can be prepared.  In this situation, I'd processed worst case scenario as my implants needing to be replaced.  This would mean a surgery to replace them.  Not fun, but certainly doable.  Situations don't usually catch me so off-guard, but when I received the results of the MRI a little over a week later, and saw the words "small enhancing mass" with a follow-up ultrasound recommended I realized that I had truly underestimated the worst case scenario.