Breast Cancer Awareness Month: They said, "Do not panic." Part 1
My doctor informed me this summer I was of age to receive my baseline mammogram. He paused for a moment in the hallway and glanced into my eyes. "You've always had lumpy breasts, right?"
I nodded. Before he closed my chart, I caught a glimpse of a circle he had drawn on an image of a breast. I swallowed hard, but decided he would have told me if he thought something was wrong.
A few months went by. I was sorting through some papers and found the form my doctor's office had given me regarding my baseline mammogram. The kids were back in school. I now had the days to myself. It seemed right to schedule it. I even chuckled to myself when it was booked for October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
The exam itself was quick and painless. The environment was warm, relaxing, and inviting. The technician educated me about breast health while positioning my body for the x-ray and again when showing me the pictures she had taken. As she pointed out various details she said, "Do not panic if we call you back for more. Dense breast tissue, which is common at your age, can be difficult to see through."
As I drove away, singing the song on the radio, I made a mental note to tell all women mammograms are easy. I was in and out of the Breast Center in less than 20 minutes. By the time I got home, I had already forgotten all about the exam.
A week later, while I was running around getting ready for work, my cell phone rang.
"I'm looking for Lorettajo," the voice said.
I groaned. Why did telemarketers have to be allowed access to cell numbers? Isn' t anything sacred anymore? "This is Lorettajo. Can I help you?" I fought to keep the aggravation out of my voice.
"Hello. This is "M" and I am calling from the Breast Center."
I froze. This was not a telemarketer.
"Now don't panic, but we need you to come back for closer examination of a thickening we found on your mammogram."
"Okay...." I inhaled deeply. I was NOT going to panic, because she told me not to.
"Are you available next Wednesday?"
"Next week isn't good for me. How about the following?"
She cleared her throat. "Um, there is no need to worry, but we would like to see you next week."
Okay, now I might panic, but I can't because she said so. "Fine, yes, Wednesday 9am is fine."
"We will see you then. And Lorettajo? Don't panic. Have a good day."
As I hung up the phone, I nodded, even though no one was there to see me. Glancing at the clock, I realized I really needed to get going so I wouldn't be late for work. I threw on some clothes, ran out the door and began the 20 minute drive to work.
Somewhere between home and work, pictures began flashing in my head. First, I saw the diagram of the breast that my doctor had not mentioned. Then I thought of my friend "J" who had also been told not to panic. He (yes: HE) has been breast cancer free for 11 years now. My kids, husband and entire family danced in my mind. And then, my chest began to ache. Deep breaths did not make the feeling better. I reached for my cell phone with no idea who to call. My husband was away on vacation with his friends and if I called anyone, I would most certainly panic.
I was not going to panic.
But then, I did. Sobs of fear wracked my body as tears flowed freely down my face.
I am an ER nurse. Someone who is trained to always prepare for the worst case scenario. Someone who is witness to both triumph and tragedy on a regular basis. Someone who has told many not to panic when indeed the worst was yet to come.
Somehow, I pulled myself together and walked into work with a smile on my face. Secretly, I Googled a few websites for more information and found great comfort in knowing that this WAS, in fact, very common. The wave of panic that had surfaced slowly ebbed away. My only hope was to keep it there until I had concrete answers.
Stay tuned to find out the results of my repeat mammogram.