Breast Cancer Awareness Month: They said, "Do not panic." Part 2
The weekend between the call for a repeat mammogram and the actual appointment passed quickly. I stayed busy with family to keep my mind away from the unknown. Being a person who compartmentalizes emotions, denying anxiety was easy to do. So, it took my by surprise when my sister and friends rearranged their schedules to escort me to my appointment. I told each of them that I could go alone. After all, it would be panicking if I brought along a companion, wouldn't it? I wasn't sure what to do.
On Sunday, however, I received a blessing. A mom, Kay, at a birthday party my daughter attended happened to be a Technician at the very Breast Center I was to revisit. We talked, a lot. She eased many of my fears and promised to be there with me every step of the way on the day of my exam. She even confirmed that bringing a pal was not a bad thing. I went home happy, relieved and armed with information to get me through the next couple of days.
Wednesday came quickly. I told everyone, especially myself, that I would be in and out of there after a few pictures. I was so sure that I sent my husband off to work and brought my sister to the appointment, mostly because she insisted. (Truth be told, I was more than thankful for her persistence.) Before we went inside, I looked at her and said, "We will be back in this car by 9:40, guaranteed."
I signed in at the desk and waited. My heartbeat stayed steady. My sister and I even noted that I was not the only person who brought along support.
Kay greeted me with a warm smile. As she showed me the original pictures and the "area of interest", my palms began to sweat. There was something there. Even I could see it. But what was it and when would I know? I took a deep breath. It was going to be okay because it had to be.
After the pictures, which a little more uncomfortable than the first time, I had to wait. No big deal. Kay had told me the Radiologist needed to review the films. I got ready to get dressed.
Kay then reappeared. She was not smiling but she wasn't exactly frowning either. I needed to go to ultrasound.
In my head, I heard the words again, "Do not panic." My heart didn't listen, it began beating a few beats faster. I smiled at my sister, more thankful than ever to have her there.
Ultrasounds are strange tests. So much of what appears on the screen looks like a blob of nothing. And mostly, that's what I saw. Kay pointed out numerous structures and differences in brightness, but she never said anything about one large black spot that kept reappearing on the screen. She stopped, measured, marked and frowned. I reached for my sister's hand.
I did not panic.
A few more swipes of the transducer and the black splotch became front and center.
"I think that's a lymph node," Kay said. "The Radiologists prefer to see an ultrasound in real time. I'll be right back."
I panicked. Sobs escaped me before I had the ability to control them.
"Is that normal?" my sister whispered.
"I don't know!" I wailed.
"It will be okay. It has to be." My sister stroked my face.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. I need to pull myself together."
The Radiologist, entered the room. I felt like a fool shaking his hand with my sweat soaked palm. He nodded and touched my leg softly.
"Do lymph nodes belong in breasts?" My voice was shaky. I didn't care.
Both he and Kay nodded as she continued probing my breast. When she stopped at the node, this time she talked about it. The node had a perfect kidney bean shape with a distinct lighter color in the middle. Blood supply was normal in and around it. The spot on the mammogram was this lymph node we were viewing.
My whole body relaxed.
The Radiologist asked me a few questions about my family history and then reassured me multiple times that I was fine. As a matter of fact, he did not see a need for follow up in six months, unless something changed.
Finally, I was relieved.
After I was dressed, Kay escorted me to the exit and I hugged her. There was no way for me to thank her for her kindness.
My sister and I got in the car and let out huge sighs of relief. We even laughed for the first time that morning when we noticed the time. "9:47," she said. "Only seven minutes past your prediction."
It took me a few days to recover mentally, but when I did, I knew I had to share my story. Once I started talking about it, many women came forward with their own stories of angst. And each one made me realize that none of us have to go through this alone.