The hallway at St. Vincent’s Hospital seemed like it was a mile long, like a scene from The Shining. My steps were short and quick, much like my breath. I was trying to appear calm since my parents were in tow. As I reached the wooden door and stuck out my hand for the cold silver handle, I paused, on the other side was my fate. This would be a defining moment in my life, one way or the other. The waiting room was filled at half capacity. As my parents took their seats I went to the window to check in. I scrutinized the two women behind the glass with every sensory in my body. Were they avoiding eye contact? Did her shoulders drop when I gave my name? Was that a small smile she just gave me? Was it knowing relief or was it pity? Unfortunately, neither woman was willing to give anything away.
We sat in the waiting room about 30 minutes. My dad pretended to read a magazine, my mom was very attentive to her cuticles and I scrolled through my social media feed not really looking at anything. At one point I wondered, how did I end up here? For four weeks the “C word” had been looming around in my brain. I had not dared to say it out loud for fear that the just saying the word itself would ensue a guilty verdict. Four weeks ago I went in for my annual woman exam and was surprised to learn that at age 35 I was due for my first mammogram. I thought that didn’t happen until I was 40? Mammograms are something that my mother and her friends complained about. I don’t think I know a single person my age that has had one? A week later I returned to learn what all the fuss was about.
I expected to get smooshed and squeezed and then go back to work. Except it didn’t really end like that. During the exam the technician wanted to take another look. After the exam I was dressed and sitting in my doctor’s office waiting for a prescription when she came in with a look on her face. “Now it’s nothing to get upset about yet but…” I don’t really remember what she said after that? But 10 minutes later I was back in the mammogram room, doing it again. Then I was ushered to the ultrasound room for another look. When I asked the woman taking the ultrasound if the masses she was seeing were big, she hesitated and said, “they are not small but the radiologist will have to decide.” She passed the buck.
I left the appointment feeling ok, certain that they were just being cautious. Plus, I had surgery in that area almost 20 years ago, so it’s probably just scar tissue. Right? Right. Yes, that is exactly what it is… except those masses were not anywhere near where I think the scar tissue would be… No matter, go to work. It will be fine.
A week later the nurse called me at work. Cue Charlie Brown’s mom, “womp womp womp radiologist didn’t like what they saw womp womp womp tumors womp womp come back for more tests womp womp.” What is happening? Everything was supposed to be fine. It is fine. They are just being careful. The next day I went in for a bilateral comparison. Maybe it’s just what my tissue looks like? The mammogram technician felt confident that it was nothing and this would be the last of it. While her words on the surface were comforting, I was cursing her on the inside because I knew in my heart that she should not make promises she could not keep.
The following week I received the call that I needed to have a biopsy. This is when my when world started to swirl. I am not old of enough for this to happen, right? Actually, wrong. It took everything I had to not google breast cancer. I didn’t want to know. To compound the heaviness of this news, I am in a new city with no family, very few friends and was getting over a breakup. The person who was supposed to be there for me and hold my hand, wasn’t. I was going though this alone. I didn’t want to talk to my friends because I didn’t want to worry them. Once I knew the answer, then I would tell them. The biopsy was terrible. I was surprised to find out at my pre-op appointment that there were masses on both sides that were causing concern. The night before my appointment I found out that I was going to have to go alone. My whole world was crashing around me and I was alone. I cried through most of my appointment. The first biopsy was not too bad but I was still emotional about being there. The second spot ended up being a cyst that needed to be drained. This was the first piece of good news! The bad news is that it was up against my chest wall and hurt like a you-know-what. I have not had children but this was pretty freaking horrible. I left the hospital feeling emotionally defeated. I was thankful it was Friday and I had the whole weekend to close myself up in my house and throw myself a solid pity party featuring lots of Tylenol PM and ice cream. It would be five more days until I would have some answers.
… “Chelsea?” The nurse calls me back and my parents and I look at each other like, “here we go” and head to the exam room where we waited another 30 minutes. My parents sat on either side of the room and I propped myself up on the exam table. We passed the time making small talk and I stayed focused on the box of tissues sitting on the table. This is the same room I had for my pre-op appointment. Were those tissues in here last time? Did they put them in here just for my appointment? Is that a sign of bad news? The doctor entered just as the tension in the room was about to combust. We did introductions and he got right to it, “you’re going to be fine.” Praise the Lord, yes! My dad and I high fived each other and we all looked around like, now what?!
It took 7 doctors appointments and 4 weeks to get this news. I am not in healthcare but there seriously should be a faster process for this! For 4 weeks I felt paralyzed in my life. I had been wanting a puppy but even my parents advised that it would be better to wait until I knew what was going on. I wanted to plan a trip but again, if the news had been different then my mountain climbing dreams would be a distant memory or at least, on hold. Work was a nice distraction some days but others it just felt like, what’s the point in all this?
This is where I need to thank my family and friends who were in the know who constantly checked in on me, sent positive vibes, flowers and prayers. I could not have made it through this without all of you. While I was physically alone for most of this, I knew you were all there when I needed someone to talk to. Thank you.
The outcome made me feel like I have a new lease on life. It made me realize that life is precious and short and I need to focus on the things that make me happy. This helped me take inventory of the people who are in my life and realize who adds value and happiness and who does not and adjust accordingly. There are some things in my life that I am not happy with but only I can control that and now I am committed to making positive changes and focusing on the sunny side.
*I know this is a super personal post. Not only is sharing this experience cathartic but if it encourages even one of you to go get checked out, or tell your significant other to get checked out then it’s worth it. And also know that I have been there and I am here if you ever want to talk or just have someone to listen 🙂
