I came home a few days ago to find my mother had left an album full of baby pictures on my bed. When I asked what they were for, she answered, "I just wanted to remind you how beautiful you are bald."
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Monday, May 20, 2013
Find it.
One of my best friends sent this to me years ago, and then again when I called her with the news of my diagnosis. I've read it every day since. Some days I've read it twice.
Let it all begin.
In August I found a bump in my breast. I mentioned it while getting my annual check-up, and my doctor said it was probably nothing, but suggested for "peace of mind" I could get an ultrasound. "Don't bother with a mammogram," she said, "You're only 30." I went to the breast imaging center the following week, and the receptionist asked me to sign a form agreeing to pay for my mammogram in full (about $600, an entire month's rent) because most insurance companies won't cover them for women under 40. I opted out. During my ultrasound, the radiologist told me I had a "little bump" and said it might even be tissue irritated by my bra. I was told to check in 6 months later to confirm it hadn't grown.
I went back to my internship, continued writing papers like crazy, went through a god-awful break-up, and figured I was feeling exhausted because social working and breaking-up are hard to do. Fast forward to April and my brand new boyfriend pointed out the lump and told me I needed to get it checked out. At first I tried to get out of going, "The doctor said it was nothing," I whined, "My insurance doesn't cover this stuff!" But he's a better arguer (lawyer vs. social worker, I didn't stand a chance), so I ended up at the breast imaging center the next week. During the ultrasound they discovered the lump had tripled in size, it's borders were irregular, and my lymph nodes were swollen. The doctors were puzzled, "We're going to need to do a biopsy."
I still wasn't worried. I go to yoga every week with my friend Sarah. I eat a mainly vegetarian diet. I ran a 25k up a mountain at the end of January. Our family has no history of breast cancer, and someone is always getting a benign mass removed. My mother reiterated over and over, "We just come from a long line of lumpy breasted women."
On Monday I was packing up my suitcases and preparing for my last summer of grad school when the radiologist called to let me know my biopsy came back positive for malignant cells. I didn't respond at first, so he followed up with, "I realize I'm using a lot of medical terms, just to be clear, this means you have breast cancer." I can't remember the rest of the conversation very well. I think he told me the type and grade and made some suggestions about next steps and support groups for young women. As we were preparing to hang up, he expressed how shocking my diagnosis had been. "We were convinced it was a fibroadenoma or cyst," he said, "when we hear hoofbeats we think horses, not zebras."
I went back to my internship, continued writing papers like crazy, went through a god-awful break-up, and figured I was feeling exhausted because social working and breaking-up are hard to do. Fast forward to April and my brand new boyfriend pointed out the lump and told me I needed to get it checked out. At first I tried to get out of going, "The doctor said it was nothing," I whined, "My insurance doesn't cover this stuff!" But he's a better arguer (lawyer vs. social worker, I didn't stand a chance), so I ended up at the breast imaging center the next week. During the ultrasound they discovered the lump had tripled in size, it's borders were irregular, and my lymph nodes were swollen. The doctors were puzzled, "We're going to need to do a biopsy."
I still wasn't worried. I go to yoga every week with my friend Sarah. I eat a mainly vegetarian diet. I ran a 25k up a mountain at the end of January. Our family has no history of breast cancer, and someone is always getting a benign mass removed. My mother reiterated over and over, "We just come from a long line of lumpy breasted women."
On Monday I was packing up my suitcases and preparing for my last summer of grad school when the radiologist called to let me know my biopsy came back positive for malignant cells. I didn't respond at first, so he followed up with, "I realize I'm using a lot of medical terms, just to be clear, this means you have breast cancer." I can't remember the rest of the conversation very well. I think he told me the type and grade and made some suggestions about next steps and support groups for young women. As we were preparing to hang up, he expressed how shocking my diagnosis had been. "We were convinced it was a fibroadenoma or cyst," he said, "when we hear hoofbeats we think horses, not zebras."
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