crazymama

Thanks to reader Sarah for reminding me to post a breast update. I forgot that some people might be reading this who don’t know me in real life and have no idea that I have had my mammo results for about a week now. Brace yourself for a long and involved update.

Back when I was trying to get pregnant I joined this message board for other women who were trying to conceive. Some of them had diagnosed fertility issues, like me, or had experienced multiple losses, like me. We would all wait in breathless anticipation for the milestones that would guarantee a viable pregnancy.

In fact, some of us had gotten so good at anticipating disappointment that we were able to pre-judge the outcome of the the viability ultrasound based simply on the demeanor of the technician who was performing it. Chatty and happy with the ultrasound screen turned towards you = extremely good sign. Quietly concentrating with the ultrasound screen turned quickly away = impending doom.

While I was waiting for my mammo/ultrasound in the little dressing room in my underwear and a hospital gown, I couldn’t help but reminisce about those earlier times when I had done the exact same thing six years prior (albeit for different reasons). For most people, once the little 2nd line shows up on the pregnancy test it is time to start shopping for maternity clothes. For me, there was no shopping for maternity clothes or even admitting pregnancy until the heartbeat of the baby was visible on the ultrasound.

I would mentally prepare myself for disappointment while waiting to be called. While the tech was performing the ultrasound, every little nuance of her behavior was catalogued and mentally reviewed so that when the results were given to me by my OB/GYN I was rarely caught by surprise.

This time was no exception. I watched the tech’s face with intense, armpit-sweating concentration.  Here are the results:

At first the exam began quietly = not good.

Next, she asked me to show her where the lump was again = ?.

She found the lump with her fingers and said “Ah, yes, I feel that.” = not good.

She kept the screen turned towards me = good.

Started chatting with me as she was doing some measurements on the screen = very good.

Told me I had “very dense breast tissue” = ?????

Came back from a consult with the radiologist and told me to go home and wait 3-5 days for my results = good

When the tech had first led me back to her room, there was a woman sitting in a tiny sitting area just off of the corridor. She was tapping her foot nervously but gave me a smile as I shuffled past almost as if to say, “We are in this together, my friend.”I smiled back nervously, glad for the reminder of communion with another women for all of these things we women share but rarely discuss.

As I was putting my clothes on after my exam the door to the tiny room opened and I caught the tail end of a conversation from within. An official looking woman in a white coat was standing in the doorway and the woman who had smiled at me previously was sitting in the chair, this time gripping her purse in her lap.

“Tomorrow is my day off so I won’t be the doctor performing the biopsy. I just want to say good luck. Take as much time as you need in here.” With a quick pat to the seated woman’s shoulder the doctor left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

doctor touching you in any way= not good

Walking out to the car that day, I remembered years ago leaving the doctor’s office after being told that I was about to miscarry for the first time. The day was absolutely beautiful and I watched people milling about the parking lot just doing ordinary things. For some reason, even though I was dying a thousand deaths inside, the world had not ceased to stop turning for everyone else. I was surprised to see that the howl of agony that was building inside me was not shared by anyone else. How could so much pain be contained so neatly and completely within me when it felt at any moment I could supernova then collapse inside myself with the grief of it?

So Sarah, to answer your thoughtful question, I am healthy and doing well. I am so grateful for that. I am almost ashamed, however, that I am okay. Because somewhere out there is a woman who probably isn’t.