Around a couple of weeks ago, I went for my yearly routine mammogram which I have faithfully done since my early forties. I’ve always been blessed to have it come back normal and I wasn’t expecting anything different this time around. I casually looked up my results in my patient portal, as I was sitting under the dryer at my hair salon. I gulped when I noticed that there were two pages, instead of the usual simple paragraph that essentially stated “all is well.” I then noticed that I had a voicemail waiting in my inbox from my primary care doctor. Ugh. I tried to remain calm and even, but I’ve been going to my hair stylist for years. I consider her to be a friend. She could read the dread on my face in one second, so I told her that my mammogram had come back with some issues, and I needed to set up further testing. My hair stylist tried to reassure me, and she told me that one time she had gotten called back, and even had to have “markers” inserted, so they could watch areas in her breasts more closely, year-to-year.
I’m not proud to admit that everything which I espouse on this blog, went out the window that night. After I scheduled my follow-up testing appointment, I stewed in my emotional abyss. My emotions were turbulent. I was admonishing myself for letting the last few stressful years, literally eat me alive. My imagination kept driving me to the worst case scenario, and it was demonically parking me there.
However, I am not one who likes to stay in the land of “Feel Bad” for long. I tend to feel my emotions immediately and robustly and fully, and then I try to move on. I reached out to family and friends for support and for prayers. Dr. Google states that about 10 percent of women are called back for more testing after their routine mammograms. From my informal survey, it seemed that around 60-70 percent of my friends had been called back at least once, and thankfully, not one of them has ever been diagnosed with breast cancer. We all seem to belong to the Dense Breast Club, which makes us more likely to need more testing. I knew that the hardest part of this ordeal was going to be the limbo time before I could get into the imaging center for further testing. At first, that time period was looking to be about three weeks, as the closest appointment which the imaging center had available, was closer to the end of this month. As I tried to steel my nerves, my youngest son texted me this: “Okay, I know you are probably a bit anxious right now, so you know, follow all of the advice you would typically give to me and know that is going to be okay.” Our youngest son lives with epilepsy, so I knew that I had to be brave, if not for me, then for my family, and for trying to live the peaceful philosophies that I have delved into, and I so deeply believe in. I had to “walk the talk.”
And so, for the most part, I did walk my talk. And then, amazingly, I lucked into a cancellation spot and so I was able to have my follow-up testing yesterday. The specialists did a more advanced mammogram on me, and they were still unclear about what they were seeing, so they performed an ultrasound next. My husband was with me. He is my rock. I was scared. I was nervous, but I also knew that whatever came of it, I would be able to handle it. I am blessed with faith, and loving relationships, and I know that society and medicine have come so far in the early detection of breast cancer and viable treatments. I knew, like my son reminded me, that no matter what, I was going to be okay.
Thankfully, it turns out that the areas of concern on my mammograms turned out to be two cysts and a lymph node, and they told me these results, a few minutes after the test. The radiologist stated that I did not need to come back for another year. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. (I’m on my knees.)
There is a naughty, foolish part of me, that sometimes would prefer to keep my head stuck in the sand. “What I don’t know, can’t hurt me.” I sometimes trick my brain into playing Jedi mind tricks on myself. “Total health and wellness, you are,” my inner Yoda likes to say. And truthfully, I think that the Jedi mind tricks are a good medicine to keep taking, as long as I keep taking them, with the prudent steps available to me from modern medicine. Mind and body and spirit are all interwoven, and they have a lot of influence on each other.
Before I got my final results yesterday, a calmness came over me. I feel a deep purpose in being the matriarch of my family. I feel a deep purpose in sharing wisdoms which I have learned, to be cataloged on this blog for myself and anyone else who cares to read them. I feel a deep purpose for following my innate curiosities about learning more about all of the fascinating people and things and experiences to be had in this world. I had an innate sense yesterday, that my purpose is not completed yet. My mission is still going strong. A sense of purpose may very well be the true pulse of life. One of the slogans used during Breast Cancer Awareness month is this: “Hope unleashes your superpower”. There is no doubt in my mind that hope and purpose are indeed, superpowers.
Ladies, if you haven’t already, schedule your yearly mammogram. Do it now.
“Breast friends get screened together”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
The words, “We need you to come back for additional testing,” are some of the scariest words you’ll ever hear. But, as you know, they’re not THE scariest. Let’s not go there. I think what you’ve been writing about all these years has built up a “hope” muscle in you and your readers. It’s good to be able to count on that muscle when you need it. So relieved to hear you’re okay, Kelly.
Thank you, Gail, and you are absolutely right. That’s why I believe everyone should read and write every single day. It helps to “cement” ideas.
Surprise – I’ve got an experience to share. It seems that I have a lot to share lately! LOL
My mother-in-law, Marie, was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. She knew she had it. She hid it for 4-5 years, according to the oncologist. By the time it was “discovered” her entire left breast had been absorbed back into her body, leaving a line of scar tissue that looked like an incision. The surgeon asked me when she’d had the mastectomy. I said she’d never had surgery. I will NEVER forget the look on his face. His eyes got wide, his jaw went slack, and he hugged himself with one arm, as though he’d been gut punched. “In all my years of practice, I’ve never seen anything like this. How is this possible? How didn’t anyone catch it?”
I reassured him that no one caught it because Marie had been cunning in avoiding doctor visits for years. She was able to finagle prescription refills from nurses without ever stepping foot in a doctor’s office. She fell through the cracks, so to speak.
This was during the time when she lived under my roof. The entire family had colds during the winter, but we were all fine within a couple of weeks, but not Marie. She had a cough that never went away. At first it annoyed me, then it concerned me. She was a smoker, and I became obsessed with the idea that she had COPD. That was in the era when we first began seeing prescription drug commercials on television; otherwise, I would never have known that COPD existed!
I concocted a plan to tattle on her to her doctor, because I was aware that she had “white coat syndrome” – she was terrified of doctors, hospitals, and disease. I knew she would never voluntarily seek treatment, so I would have to trick her into seeing her doctor. Even 20 years later, I can’t believe that I did this, and moreover, I can’t believe that it worked!
I wrote a 6 page letter to her doctor detailing all of the COPD symptoms that I had observed, complete with time periods, changes in demeanor, etc. I suggested to him that she was diligent about taking her blood pressure medication at exactly the same time every day, and that if he were to deny her a prescription refill, insisting that she come into the office for a routine checkup, that would be the only way to initiate a visit so he could confirm my “diagnosis”.
About two weeks later, the doctor called me on a Sunday morning. I happened to be at a scrapbook retreat, so I didn’t have to worry about Marie overhearing the conversation. The doctor said, “Well young lady, I’ve never received a letter like this before.” I thought I was about to get the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, or a lecture about how unethical my suggestions were. Instead, his voice broke with emotion and he thanked me for caring so much about his patient to make the effort. He said he had looked at her file, and she hadn’t been in his office for more than three years. He apologized to ME for dropping the ball, and said that he was going to instruct his staff to go through all their patient files to see how many others had avoided routine medical appointments. He was totally on board with my plan. His practice was exclusively elderly patients, and being 82 himself, he understood that sometimes rules needed to be bent in order to help people who wouldn’t help themselves. Between us, I’m sure that we broke all the HIIPA regulations, but it was for a good cause.
It wasn’t long before Marie came into the kitchen when I was washing dishes. She was shaking like a leaf, and she could hardly speak. She told me that her doctor wouldn’t give her a refill on her prescription because she needed a check up. She said, “I need you to work your magic on the nurse, and get her to give me a refill.” (I have a reputation for being very persuasive!) Poor Marie had no idea that I’d already worked my magic on her in reverse.
This story is getting very long, so I’ll cut to the chase. Marie and I had a long talk about her medical fears, and that’s when she admitted that her breast was “missing”. I didn’t understand – how does a breast go missing?? Eventually I figured out that whatever was going on was really BAD, far worse than the disease I had imagined for her. To say that I was terrified at that point is an understatement.
As it turned out, Marie’s cancer was not the type to respond to medication, so she never had to go through chemo, which was her greatest fear. She had radiation, and within a couple of months her margins were clear. Miraculously, the cancer had only metastasized to the lymph nodes in her shoulder, which impeded circulation and made her arm and hand weak, but that’s it. The doctors did identify small masses in her throat and lung, but decided to address the breast cancer first. As you might suspect, the other spots were never dealt with, so we’ll never know about those. Marie went on to live for another 8 years in relatively good health. She died from sepsis, which was caused by a bacterial infection – totally unrelated to any of her other medical drama!
Marie was the poster child for everything you should NOT do to protect your health. Ironically, the oncologist told me that Marie’s cancer was easily treatable, and that if she had sought treatment much earlier, she could have avoided a whole lot of heartache. For me, that cemented the belief that procrastination is not beneficial, at least in addressing medical issues. Please feel free to share Marie’s story with anyone who needs to hear it – those who are hesitating because they don’t want bad news, and those who are undergoing treatment and need the reassurance that they are doing the right thing. If nothing else, Marie’s experience should be a lesson to all of us.
Kelly, thank you for sharing this story about Marie. It certainly is an eye-opening lesson!