December 6, 2016.
Routine mammogram. I really don’t have time for this, but might as well just get it done.
Technician wants more pictures. No problem. I’d been that route before. More pictures and then get the “all clear.” Dense breasts sometimes are hard to read on mammograms…
Tech comes back with doctor and asks if I’d like to do the biopsy right now or schedule an appointment. Just a couple suspicious areas. No problem. Had a few biopsies before. It will be fine. Let’s do it now. Text client that I’ll be late for her session.
December 7, 2016.
Well, ain’t that a hole in the boat? You never know how you’ll react until you hear those words.
This isn’t supposed to happen to me. I’m in shape. I’m strong. I watch my diet and exercise. I’m a TRAINER, for God’s sake!
My mom died of breast cancer but she was diagnosed in her 70s. I was just shy of 62.
I almost blew off this mammogram. I didn’t feel any lumps or anything odd on self exams. My doctor examined me a few months before and pronounced me good to go.
A voice that I assume is mine asks, “So what do I do now?” I’m told to make an appointment with a breast surgeon and am given a name that I scribble on the back of something.
“What kind of cancer is it?” asks the voice.
Invasive lobular carcinoma, poorly defined.
“What’s globular?” that voice that I assume is mine asks. Never mind. I’ll look it up.
Now a bit scared, I call Hubby. He’s shocked but he was miles away at work.
I need a hug.
Call a friend who had recently gone through breast cancer and is doing well. Thank God for her! She tells me all about her experience and highly recommends the doctors who treated her. Never thought I’d be making appointments with an oncologist. Just the word sends chills down my back. She suggests that I schedule meeting each of them as soon as possible and they’d take it from there.
“It will be OK,” she says. ‘You’ll get through this and I’ll help you every step of the way.” She even offers go to appointments with me or whatever I might need. Incredible. I’m beginning to see the bond of sisterhood I’m being initiated into.
I have to tell the kids. I have to tell my siblings. I have to let them know at the gym cause Lord knows what will happen and I don’t want to leave clients stranded.
I can’t do it. That voice that I think is mine is stuck somewhere in the back of my throat.
Rob, my rock makes the calls. All I can do is cry. We both cry. We all cry.