Nightmare on Breast Street (Mammogram Post 2 of 2)

I promised to share my first mammogram experience with everyone. And although it went a lot differently that I ever could have imagined--I'm back to tell the tale. And this, my friends, is why you MUST have this test.

So, the days counted down to my first mammogram experience. I worried about it some but mostly I stayed too busy to watch the countdown clock. Suddenly, the day was here and I dropped the kids off at my folk's house and headed off on my "boob squishing mission".

When I arrived at the office, everything was clean, calm, and extremely efficient. Very little wait time and soon I was escorted to my own little tiny waiting room where I was told to undress and put on a gown.

I waited a few more minutes and started to feel a little anxious. Then, a lovely nurse appeared and gave me a big hug. "Everything will be fine..." she said as she showed me down the hallway and into the room with the big, ugly machine in it.

The mammogram consisted of several different positions for each side and was somewhat uncomfortable. I had to take a couple of deep breaths but it certainly wasn't scream worthy.

The worst position, by far, was the side position where I had to reach up and hold a bar and lean way back. Very awkward and the little tray smasher/masher thing will hit you in the face as it releases you, if you don't move your head in time.

I was so happy when it was over. Then, she told me that some women have cysts in their breasts and that they are usually nothing to worry about. Uh, oh! This must mean that she saw something on the images.

She told me not to get nervous that the doctor would look at the images and that she might order an ultrasound. No big deal.

Okay, calm...stay calm.

I return to my tiny, private waiting room and wait. This time the wait is a bit longer and I sit, clutching my gown to my body and staring at the ugliest carpet in the world. I feel nervous despite her reassurances.

She comes back and tells me that an ultrasound was ordered and off we go to another room. There, she pokes and prods me with the ultrasound wand. To me, this is far more uncomfortable than the mammogram. She captures multiple images and shows me a small cyst in one breast and a rather large cyst in the other.

The doctor will come in and take a look. I meet the doctor who is a nicely dressed woman with a pleasant voice. She comes in and takes a look. More pushing and prodding. She doesn't like the big cyst. She makes clicking noises with her tongue and seems unsure of ruling things "okay" as is--then the nurse asks "do you need me to set up the other room?"

I don't like the sound of that.

The doctor indicates that she does and I'm carted off to yet another room with a bigger (and pink) ultrasound machine. The nurse explains that this machine just provides different images and more precise results.

Great. Let's get on with it.

Then the doctor comes in and does more poking and prodding followed by more uncertainty as to what was going on inside the large cyst. She finally decides that the best course of action would be to "stick a needle in it". Huh?

I thought this was just going to be a routine first mammogram. What the hell was going on here?

She explained the procedure to me for obtaining a breast biopsy and that she felt it was important to check this out fully because "I'm young and have 3 children". That was when I felt the tears come on. I couldn't stop them.

I asked if I could come back when I had someone with me. I didn't want to do this alone. Plain and simple, I was scared.

She told me that if I scheduled it--then I'd just sit at home worrying about it. I might even talk myself out of coming back.

I agreed to the test.

Then, back to my tiny waiting room for more waiting and many more tears while they set things up. Now onto the biopsy table where needles followed by more ultrasound poking and a lot of pressure proceeded to further elevate my blood pressure and ruin my day.

When it was over, she seemed positive about what she found. She told me that my results would be available the following day.

Now the waiting would begin.

Sporting an ice pack in my bra and a 45 minute drive back to my parent's house to get my kids--I was an emotional mess.

Somehow, I made it through the night but the next day was pure torture. The waiting. The worrying. The clock ticking.

What if?

You never think it will happen to you. You read about it happening to others but you never think it will happen to you.

I seek the support of the most wonderful women in my life--my author friends. The outpouring of support and encouragement is overwhelming. I ask for positive vibes, prayers, and any good luck that anyone has to spare.

The e-mails pour in throughout the day and each one gives me hope. Thank you. Thanks to every single one of you. I couldn't have made it through the day without you.

Finally, late in the day, when my nerves are raw and my brain is throbbing with tension...the call comes.
The results are in...

Everything is okay. The doctor is happy with the results and no follow-up is necessary at this time.

Relief. Gratefulness. Disbelief.

More Prayers and Praise.

A few more tears....

Hugs from my children. Happy voices from my husband and parents.

Now, the day is new again. My future bright once again. Back to the writing deadlines and publisher hassles. Back to promotion and worry over my career goals.

Back to life and happy to have one.

For now at least...the nightmare is over.