I'll Never View Friday the 13th the Same Way Again. (Post #2)
No, I'm not superstitious. Well, I do have a lucky jersey, but that's different; that's hockey. (Go Oilers!) Friday the 13th, 2022, just happens to be the day life threw me a curveball. I was scheduled for a screening (that means just regular/ routine) mammogram and breast ultrasound. (Yes, you'll hear that word a lot. Leave now if you're squeamish or missish!)
The mammogram was first and the tech was lovely and we chatted about our respective families as she manhandled me through the awkward experience. (Pro tip: mammograms are NOT painful. Unless you're a total wimp. That's not a valid excuse to put off getting one!) I had a bit of a wait before being called into the ultrasound room, and I immediately knew something was "off" as the tech introduced herself and promptly said, "We take a lot of pictures; don't be alarmed." (I imagine the mammogram tech discussed her findings with the ultrasound tech so she knew what to look for.) Now I'm an old ultrasound pro. You don't get to the ripe old age of 47 without having been "gelled up" a time or twenty-three! I've had abnormalities on an ultrasound before, so when she took about five times more photos of my left breast than my right, I knew she wasn't just playing favourites. However, I wasn't too concerned. After all, I'd done everything right! I'd breastfed my babies, used organic non-aluminum deodorant, and was relatively healthy, or so I thought. Well, surprise! Turns out that not getting a mammogram for 5 years is a very. very. bad. idea. Who knew? Also, Covid kinda' interfered. I actually did visit my doctor regularly during those 5 years, but due to a multiplicity of reasons, was never booked for a mammogram. (Pro tip: According to my mammogram tech, women between 40-49 should receive mammograms YEARLY, not every two years, as initially advised. Also, if a pandemic interferes and they are no longer doing regular mammograms, you won't have a 5-year interval to contend with!)
After the radiologist reviewed my scans, the tech returned to tell me that I wasn't to be too alarmed, but they found an abnormality and would be booking me for a biopsy. No problem, I thought. I remembered my mom having a biopsy when she was my age which was completely benign. I have no family history of breast cancer, and stats show that 80% of biopsies are normal. Well, hubby keeps telling me I'm special...my biopsy was part of the 20%.
Fast forward to the day of the biopsy, May 18th, and while not exactly pleasant, having 4 x half-inch samples of tissue the size of rice vermicelli (14 gauge needle) removed wasn't too traumatic. What was traumatic, was the response of the radiologist to my innocent question; "What is the chance of the biopsy result being cancerous?" Hearing her say "95%" was a bit of a jolt. The hits kept coming as she told me that they'd also found a second lesion, closer to the chest wall, that was missed by the ultrasounds and first mammogram. Thus, I was to book a second biopsy asap. Hubby and I were supposed to leave for our monthly jaunt to Hinton where he holds a neurology clinic at the hospital there, but this was quickly rebooked/made virtual by our amazing MOA, Brandy, and the Hinton Hospital staff. I am so grateful, as the long weekend would have bumped my appointment an entire week, whereas an appointment was available the next day if I could make it.
We made it. This experience can only be described as "mean." A regular mammogram involves flattening the breast between two plastic plates the size of a Golden Story Book. (See? I'm old.) The second biopsy was mammogram-guided, which meant that they hooked up what was essentially a tissue-sucking-sewing-machine-apparatus to the mammogram. This beast sucked 12 x half-inch samples of tissue the size of spaghettini (10 gauge needle) from one small area through an opening in the top plate while I was being smooshed. It's not an experience I ever want to repeat. Oh, yes, they do use freezing - I’m pretty sure it would contravene the Geneva Convention if they didn’t! (I consider the battle against cancer to be a war.)
My procedure was done at the CDC Breast Centre Radiology Clinic on 109 St and the staff was fantastic! In particular, my nurse, Julie, was so compassionate that I found myself comforting her, assuring her that as a tough farm girl, I was fine. There was even a funny moment: I had my eyes closed throughout the procedure, as self-mutilation isn't my thing, and as they removed the needle, I suddenly heard Julie say in a super-soothing voice;
"Okay, keep your eyes closed, we're just gonna' lay you back now, keep your eyes closed, I'm just gonna' clean you up a bit..." as I feel her wiping me from waist to neck.
"Does it look like a murder scene?" I asked.
"Well, yes," was her reply. "It kind of exploded when we removed the needle. I think we may have hit a blood vessel."
"No worries. I bleed like a stuck pig," was my reply. (I have since been informed that telling people that I am "highly vascular" is a more appropriate response - thanks, Mona! :D)
Unfortunately, much to the dismay of Julie, who took it as a personal affront, I developed a rather large hematoma. So now I know what a Dalmatian would look like if its spots were purple instead of black. Oh, and remember how I told Julie that I was a tough farm girl? I lied. Oh, I didn't mean to, I just had no idea how painful the recovery would be. (To clarify, the first biopsy healed quickly and was practically painless within a few days.)
The following week I received a call from my family doctor, confirming what we had already surmised - I have breast cancer. And thus the journey began.
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