In college, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She is 27 years older than me, which means she was in her late 40s. She had a double mastectomy. A year or so later, my mom's half-sister (my half-aunt), also had breast cancer. She was in her 70s. These are called high-risk factors. None of this really phased me when it came to my own breast. My problems in life more centered around my cervix (another story for another time), which meant I had been seeing a gynecologist on a regular basis since I was 18 years old. My breast were felt up yearly by doctors (usually at Planned Parenthood), and always deemed fine. Around ten years ago, I noticed that my breast felt different. They used to feel kind of like heavy water balloons. My breast by nature are shallow on top and heavy on bottom (my roommate in college made a comment on them once that I can't quite recall, but something about being like flowers); to me they look like ski jumps. I love my breast, especially since the right bra will make them look full on top. It all works out for the best. So, my breast felt different. They felt lumpy. It didn't take a doctor's visit to realize I had
breast fibroids.
I was drinking steadily at this time, and I recall having a lot of women touch my lumps (it's educational!). To me, they feel like large land masses moving around inside the sea of my breast. Some months I had a lot, other months just a few. They come and go as they please. When I did see my gyno, she would usually just tell me to cut down on my caffeine intake. I drink at most 12-20oz of caffeine a day, which is minuscule compared to most people I know. So, I ignore that advice. My breast often ache and they do not have much sensitivity, but I rarely think about it because my allergies are my true headache in life. My tits still look great, so I tend not to grouse about them.
Around three or four years ago, I did have a questionable lump. One that my doctor could not immediately identify as a fibroid, and I was hustled off to get my first mammogram. I was around 30 at the time. I was the youngest patient in the building. The tech was really nice, but I felt quite lost. You have to undress in this little closet with an accordion door, and you are just left there until someone comes backs to fetch you; while the whole time you are worrying that you are supposed to do something, like open the door to signal you are ready. There's a lot of that kind of awkward waiting. The actual mammography was more uncomfortable than painful. I'm on the average side of short, and it seems the
MAMMOMAT (as the machine is called) can only be lowered so far; thus, not only am i standing with basically one breast and armpit in a machine, but I'm on my tip toes and trying to crane my head as far away from the machine as possible while doing a pelvic thrust toward it. Man, the humiliation is not actually in the smashing of the breast, it is getting in to position. Then you have to wait for the tech to confer with the doctor. Then, off to get an ultrasound. Then that tech consults with the doctor. That first time around, I was there for 4 hours and 7 mammograms. Seems I have weird deposits in my armpits that was freaking them out, but they decided it was nothing. They also felt there was nothing wrong with the lump in my breast. They did tell me that I have extraordinarily dense breast for a woman of my age. I do not have any idea what that really means.
Around last summer, I noticed an entirely different kind of lump in my left breast. It felt like a shooter marble--you know those big gorgeous one that is bigger than the rest of the marbles? It didn't shoot off to a different spot when I touched it. It felt quite attached to where it was located, like an eyeball on a stock. I saw my doctor for my yearly probing fun-time, and she was quite concerned. Off for another mammogram. This all happened around when I was very sick with a nasty cold and got laid-off four days later. So I had to sign-up for COBRA to be able to have continuous medical care. That was a good time in of itself.
I go get another mammogram. Same story, wash and repeat. I could see the damn thing during the ultrasound. Looked like a dark bubble, perfectly round. The tech left quietly, and came back with a doctor in tow. THAT IS NOT A GOOD SIGN. The doctor took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and told me I had a tumor. The Boy was going through the stress of his year-end concert, and I didn't want to stress him out further, so I called a friend, my Amazon beauty. She was and is the best person, caring but not dramatic in anyway. Very supportive but also realistic. I hope she knows I love her (I can't tell her, because she'd probably puke on my head, and that vomit would have 8" to fall before it even reached me). We love without using words, because that is too soft for us! I eventually told a few other close friends by the end of the week, but didn't tell The Boy until after his show.
Many appointments were then created. I had a consult that was thoroughly embarrassing, and I hope I don't have to go through something like that ever again. The man basically ridiculed me and asked why I was there since I OBVIOUSLY only had a fibroid. I did my best to explain that none of this was my idea, and that a very well-known radiological group said I had a tumor, so I was getting it checked out. He didn't even exam me--refused to have a looksy. He was supposed to do a needle aspiration as the least invasive way of seeing if it was benign or not, but he said I should just go back to the radiologist since he didn't think there was any reason for me to be in his office. Awesome. AWESOME.
Hey, worried you have a tumor, go get mocked by a doctor you've never met before!
In January of this year, I went back to the radiology group, and had a needle biopsy performed. To be honest, I never was really that worried about cancer, especially after the scoffing doctor; however, the whole process was very exhausting. The people were great and friendly, but it was still a lot of waiting around half-clothed. I at least brought a book, because I was made to wait on an operating table for almost an hour for the doctor to arrive. Reading while prepped is NOT comfortable. I had some rolled-up towels under my left shoulder and was covered in iodine, so had to read laying almost flat on my back with the book held over my face. My elbows were very pissed at me for quite some time after that stunt.
The doctor finally arrived, and he too was confused at why I was there. He wasn't as mean, but you could tell this was really just going to be an exercise for him in I-told-you-so. Usually when a doctor biopsies a tumor, s/he puts in this little bit of metal to mark where an area of the breast has been biopsied before; therefore, a technician will know during the next mammogram on ultrasound that this area has been looked at before. He didn't even bother doing that step. That is how confident he was that it was just another fibroid. At this point I'm about ready to yell it was HIS people who said I had a tumor. For fuck's sake.
The needle biopsy wasn't that bad. The area was numbed, and then a small slit was sliced in to the side of my chest. Then a teeny tiny tube was inserted to give the biopsy gun a path to follow to the tumor. I could see it all on a monitor, which was awesome and calming for me. I like to know how it all looks. The biopsy gun is much like an ear-piercing gun. It has that spring-loaded air-pressure sound, which was way more scary than it actually going in to me and the tumor. He did it three times, and I got to see bits of me in a vial. They looked like little white wavy tapeworms. Or slices of onion. He put bits of tape on me to hold the excision together. I was bundled off with an icepack in my bra and was told to go home and take it easy.
A few days later I get a call that I have a benign tumor (not a fibroid). That it was going to be up to me if I want it removed or not. Since it is right on top of my breast, near my actual breastplate, I don't really want to remove it. I don't want a dimple on my chest. However, I have noticed over the past few months that when I am lying down, I can actual see the bump (affectionately called "Myrtle Bulge").
The biopsy site took several weeks to heal. This is what it looked like a day or two later:
Today's mammogram (and subsequent ultrasound--I just can't escape without having to go through both) showed that the tumor, like most benign tumors, is growing. They want me back in a year for just an ultrasound (yeah, no awkward positions and boob squishing), but that I may want to start thinking about removing it if it keeps growing. We'll see. Right now it doesn't bother me other than being this lump that my hand will sometimes brush against, and I go, "Oh. My. God. What the fuck is that?" It feels like I have a rock in my chest. It does hurt when it gets hit or pushed on, and especially when this fat Siamese cat I live with decides he wants to kneed it flat.
Thus, I have a tumor and other lumpy bits floating around my tits.
