This is about what I look like right now, too. Only my hair is dark. And curly. And I have much less facial hair. It's pouring down rain today. As usual, I had no umbrella or raincoat. So I decided to run to my car. The Evil Lump did not approve. (Yes, I know...second post in my so-called endometriosis blog, and I'm talking about FBD instead. I'll do better next time.)
Evil Lump is not a new lump. It's a reinflated lump. It's also the only lump I've ever named. It's earned it.
One morning two years ago, I woke up with a sharp pain in my left breast. Upon exploration, I discovered a rock-hard lump the size of a golf ball. A lump that had not been there when I went to bed the night before. I've had lumps since I was 19...they're usually nothing. But none of them were ever hard, or hurt that bad. It was only 4 in the morning, but I'd gotten all the sleep I was getting that night.
I spent all day and much of the next pondering my options. My initial reaction to really scary stuff is to ignore it and hope it goes away, but it's kind of hard to ignore a rock in your boob that produces hot-poker pain every time you move. So I finally told my mother. She, of course, told me to call the doctor. And then told me to call back when the earliest appointment I could get was two weeks away.
Yes, I was in pain. Yes, I was worried. But deep down, I didn't expect anything more than an aspiration (which I absolutely hate...I'd rather have dental work) and a pat on the head. What I did not expect was for the doctor to look at the fluid he was draining out of my breast and say "oh." That one syllable was enough to wipe away my piddly little complaints about getting stuck with a needle. Doctors don't say "oh" to me. They pat me on the head and tell me not to worry. At least, that's what they did when I was in my 20s. The rules apparently have changed. Instead of my head pat, I got an appointment for a mammogram. The earliest appointment they had was in two weeks.
No more was I worried. Terrified is a more apt description. Being a planner, I took myself through diagnosis, treatment, and death, wanting to prepare for the worst. I finished my living will, wrote out my wishes for my funeral (not that my mother will follow them, but at least I'll have my say), got together all my important documents, told people I loved them. For two weeks I immersed myself in the concept of my own death. And I realized that there wasn't much about my life I'd miss. I knew a few people would miss me, and I would miss them. But overall, I wasn't crushed at the concept of dying. I was just disappointed that I would now have no time to change that. I understand now what people mean when they speak of a humbling experience.
Of course, it wasn't cancer. I felt incredibly silly, as well as relieved, when the doctor gave me the results. (It also wasn't one lump -- it was one on top of another. I think of it as one lump still because that's what it felt like.) I'd spent two weeks convinced I was dying, and it was just another lump. But it wasn't just another lump. It was the kick in the ass I needed to change my life -- to make it a life I would feel bad about leaving. I've spent the past two years doing just that.
The Evil Lump refilled much more slowly this time. According to my journal, it showed up around March 2, and at first was squishy and the size of a thick Nilla Wafer -- like maybe two back to back. Now it's the size of a golf ball again (I guess the bottom lump filled up), hard, and extremely painful. But it is that time of the month, so I'm chalking the recent growth and tenderness to my body's protest against estrogen. If it's still there next week, though, I'll call the doctor.
And in the meantime, I'm going to go tell people I love them.
EDIT: My darling boyfriend has made me promise I will call the doctor next week no matter what. Apparently from some angles the lump is visible from the outside. What a repulsive thought. From my vantage point, that breast is noticeably bigger than the other one...not surprising, since they're not that big to begin with. So...sometime within the next week, I get to have yet another aspiration. Here's hoping it won't lead to the mammogram/sonogram mess. (I have issues with mammograms, but that's a story for another day.)
No comments:
Post a Comment