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I didn’t expect to find a lump on my breast on the last day of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 

I recently relocated to the largest city in the state. I drove back to my old town to keep up with my annual mammogram. This wasn’t my first rodeo. Doctors usually suggest that women receive this not-so-fun procedure to get the boobs checked out when you hit 45 years of age. As for me? I’ve been going since I hit 41 years old due to family health history. Each visit that I have had ended with a clean bill of health. 

I felt as if the next mammogram would result in the same. I already planned the events of the day in my mind. They were based on how they have gone times before.

I imagined that I would stop by my favorite Greek restaurant across the street from the breast imaging center. I would order my typical chicken souvlaki meal as I awaited the results from the mammogram. In my mind I would receive a summary by e-mail within the hour stating that it was negative. More of the typical.

I figured that I would be rescheduled for another one in a year, and that the drive back to my old hometown at least allowed me to enjoy a rather delectable meal from an amazing Ma and Pop spot. Then I would make the hour and thirty minute trek back to my bed, and would sleep like a baby after such a big meal. 

I was wrong. 

Life is better when accompanied by a good meal

I did order that chicken souvlaki plate at the Greek restaurant after a pretty routine mammogram. The portions are big enough for the price, and they treat you like you are family as soon as you walk in. I saw at the table for two in the white and royal blue ancient Greek themed dining room, my tan vibrant Coach tote bag sitting in the chair across from me as my only guest. My e-mail notification popped up across my Starlight colored Iphone screen as I scarfed down my Mediterranean moment of culinary joy. 

It was the e-mail summary from the mammogram. I opened the message, and went through the annoying but necessary process of verifying my mobile device to login. I read the results, and my heart immediately sank. One the last day of Breast Cancer Awareness month was when I found out that I had a lump on my left breast. I wasn’t hungry anymore. 

Life comes at you fast

The nurse recommended meeting with a geneticist, having a 3D mammogram, and possibly a biopsy for a lump that is no bigger than the width of my pinky nail. I’ve got little boney witch fingers, by the way. 

I gathered my emotions as I gathered my belongings. My mind wandered faster than I could drive back to the city that I relocated to where I have zero family or friends residing in. My father is a cancer survivor, however my maternal aunt and uncle both succumbed to the disease in the early 80’s. I refer to myself as a “positive realist”, however I still didn’t want to think the worst. Hopefully I also had a horse shoe up my butt, and the lump wouldn’t be cancerous.

I’ve always been one of those who smile despite it all. It’s just how I operate. My landlord asked how I am able to stay so strong and cheerful through everything that I have been through during the past couple years that mostly have stemmed from women’s health issues. My reply is always that I have no choice but to push through.

I made sure to turn the joy and positivity on to the max when the scheduler called to book my appointment for this fancy pants 3D mammogram. Whatever was in my left chestical that showed up on the mammogram wasn’t going to ruin my day—especially after the amazing meal that I just had.

I booked the appointment at the same office. I will use almost anything as an excuse to leave my current city until I move back home. Why? It’s just too many people here, and they think they are the next Atlanta. I prefer to be in an extra smedium metro city where it doesn’t cost $30 just to park downtown. 

Life started lifing

Then my car was stolen. I would say that “When it rains, it pours.” I try to be careful about the words that I choose because I am a firm believer that they indeed have power. It was just a lot going on. However, my car was returned almost a month later, hours before the appointment. Small wins.

My car(like myself) has been banged up a bit due to circumstance, but it still does it’s thing. I paid highway robbery to get it out of impound with the intention to get on the highway and make it to my appointment over an hour away. The car was found in a drug bust. You’d think that the cops would have thrown away the paraphernalia that was found in it, but I don’t tell the cops how to do their jobs. 

I tossed the scale, bootleg key fob that they programmed to drive my car with, along with the other items that were left in the car in the dumpster at the impound. I drove to the nearest gas station with my gas tank on a wing and a prayer to fill it up and still make it to my 3D mammogram appointment in time. 

I didn’t know that my key fob was deactivated as I tried to unlock my gas tank door. Odd. I attempted to start the car. Nothing. I waved down a sheriff who assumed that the key fob needed a new battery, only for him to disappear as I awaited for him to return with one. 

Here I was, a single woman in a fancy car, stranded at a gas station on a sketchy side of town in a nice car with a 30% phone battery. I had 2 hours left on the clock before one of the most important appointments of my life was due to start. I sat in that hot car, feeling defeated.

Technology can be used for good or otherwise

Fortunately a AAA driver was on his break at the gas station. I politely offered him cash for his assistance. He told me my money was no good, and he’d pop my trunk for free. He said that if I have a new battery in my car and that it wont turn on, then it’s a large possibility that it wasn’t the car. It was my key fob. Even if I had a box full of replacements, the car thief overrode any existing ones when he did what illegal thing he did to get his copy to operate my car. Fun.

The same key that I tossed in the dumpster was the same key that was able to operate my car. I ended up getting it towed, getting my key reprogrammed for an ungodly amount, and rescheduling my appointment all on a 30 minute nap. 

Fast forward. The 3D mammogram showed that a small spot had formed, but it wasn’t visible during two ultrasounds due to it’s size. I was scheduled for another mammogram and biopsy at the same location to determine if the lump was cancerous. So, I was scheduled to fight this city’s ungodly traffic once more to get these massive honkers of mine checked out. Early detection is important.

A biopsy can’t be that bad, right? Right?!

I googled what a biopsy entailed. It didn’t seem so bad. Researching medical procedures online can either hype things up to be worse than they are, or inaccurately downplay them. The internet described it as being nothing more than a pinch when you lie back, and they numb your titty with topical anesthesia before taking a couple samples with a needle. Well that was some pinch.

I had a stereotactic biopsy which requires you to get up on an examining table with your boob dangling through a cut out. They mashed it for life between fiberglass to keep it in place. They numbed it twice, and drew samples with a big hollow needle. They then inserted a metal clip in my breast that serves as a place marker for any future procedures. It helps to make the lump easier to locate. 

What is a hematoma?

Almost everything has its risks. I bled more than normal from the procedure. It resulted in a hematoma on the left underside of my breast. Listen. I bruise like a grape. A hematoma is a collection of blood outside of the vessels that form a pool or a lump depending on the severity. They may come from injury or surgery. 

The nurse monitored me for an hour. I was bandaged up with steri-strips and a few layers of gauze, and was sent on my way despite bleeding all over their mammogram machine. I wear a 40 F bra. Milk jugs this large needed duct tape, not small steri-strips the size of caesar salad cheese. 

I went in Walmart on my way in before the anesthetic wore off. I had full intention of getting enough sleep for at least 3 people. I carefully removed my parka to find that I not only bled through the bandaging, but through my bra and my thermal Henley shirt. It was a situation.

I patched myself back up. I was a sports trainer for a local high school back in my day. I know my way around first aid supplies. I also know when medical treatment should be sought. Bleeding through two bras and enough gauze to do taxidermy on a squirrel within two hours is one of those times.

I had enough at that point. I googled the closest urgent care facility. It looked like a whole in the wall, but I was sure that they had at least 3 bandages in stock. It took me less than ten minutes to get there. Everything feels like it takes longer than necessary when you need it to move faster. 

I walked into the waiting room. I noticed how packed it was and winced. I forgot my mask. There were so many people seeking care that day that the front desk were turning patients away. Fortunately I was fast tracked to be seen within five minutes due to the severity of my situation. 

The medical staff was unhappy with how the nurse at the breast imaging center allowed me to leave their facility with such inadequate bandaging. To be honest, same. They hooked me up with something more heavy duty called a pressure bandage that would stay in place for 72 hours. They packed my bra with ice packs, and instructed me to call the facility to determine what needed to happen next. 

The same facility refused to handle it by phone. They transferred me to the emergency department phone line where an EMT instructed me to keep the bandage on, use ice for a day, and rest. Resting proved to be difficult because I began to experience flu symptoms despite getting the vaccine. The flu vaccine isn’t 100% fool proof, but it did lesson my symptoms from this super flu that’s been the worst it’s been in 25 years. My 23 year old daughter wasn’t even thought about that long ago. Needless to say, I spent my 44th birthday in the emergency department where they assumed that I contracted it when I went to visit urgent care for my bum boob situation.

Anyways. The lump is benign. It’s called Sclerosing lobular hyperplasia. Though rare, it’s more common among younger Afro-American women. They’ve elected to not remove it unless necessary later on in life. A win is still to be celebrated.

I’m still on the mend from the biopsy and the flu. All of this foolery has been recent. While this isn’t my typical wellness post, it does explain my absence from consistently posting. When life hands you lemons, use the juice in hot tea to help you recover from the flu. I hope that you were at least entertained from my madness.