Biopsy Part II

Before I got there, I was already done with it all. It was at the same location, same check in procedure, same instructions for preparing for the procedure. Three people were in the room: a nurse, a technician and the doctor. It was the same doctor who did the previous biopsy. We recognized each other. I told her that though I appreciated meeting her again, we should consider this the last time we meet under these particular circumstances. She smiled and agreed. The biopsy would be exactly the same, she explained and then asked if I had any questions. I said no, and that my recovery was pretty smooth except that I developed a pretty large hematoma about a week after the procedure. She said that was pretty normal, but that it was interesting that it developed so long from the initial procedure – usually there is a discoloration (which didn’t have) and then a hematoma just a few days after. She believed it was because I am pretty active (too active?) and its nothing to worry about. I told her briefly about the process I have been through and what decisions I am waiting to make based on test results. She assured me that I had a great attitude about it all.

Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

They put my right breast on the mammography table and squished it down. Lots of numbers and locations were called out, I was told not to breathe for a few seconds and then I could breathe again. They had to take a picture to make sure that the two suspicious cloudy spots were in the right position for the machine to take samples. Numbing medicine was injected. The doctor poked me to make sure I couldn’t feel anything (Nothin. Good.). Two series of biopsies were done. Then extra tissue was taken to ensure a large enough sample could be examined. Then they put another titanium tag in to mark where a biopsy had occurred. I guess it was a different shape than the other one that was previously put there. While all this was happening, the Distracting Nurse and I were talking about our husbands’ favorite cakes. See, this biopsy was done on my husband’s birthday. 40th birthday. Because life doesn’t stop because you have DCIS. One foot in front of the other. And I am lucky that he could take over kid drop off duties in the morning so I could just get this taken care of. And the nurse gave me permission to bake a cake – as long as it is less than 10 lbs. because I can’t lift more than 10 lbs for a few days. Or go swimming or workout. Sometimes this is the hardest part of the whole process. Having to stop and slow down. Because it’s the quiet times where I am not busy when I start to breathe deeper and think more. Which inevitably causes tears to well up.

Apparently, I was the first patient not to pass out on the team this week. The technician referred to me as having a strong composition. I felt really sorry that they had to deal with patients who couldn’t tolerate such a test. I don’t find it that challenging, but I have never been averse to needles or anything like that.

I got dressed and walked out. Hit the grocery store for last minute cake supplies. I was told I couldn’t even go to yoga to visit my amigas there, as breathing deeper increases the flow of blood to the area and that’s what causes hematomas. Sigh. No, don’t sigh, that’s oxygen. So I finished the last minute grocery list and went home to send emails, plan dinner, finish up a baby shower video for my sister in law, whose baby shower I was missing because of being so far away and dealing with my diagnosis. Its hard for me to accept the excuses her friends gave me for not getting a 30 second video of their well wishes to her. With the complaints of them having trouble getting to something because their spouse was out of town or they had a cold. I HAVE CANCER AND IM GETTING SHIT DONE – that’s what I want to yell. But I don’t. I just keep moving forward. But it does amaze me how dug into our own lives we get without someone jolting another perspective on you. This surprises me every day.

When this feeling arises in me, I go back to what my friend Anna told me. This is a great opportunity to stop and live in the moment. And I am really proud of myself for doing what she suggested (I try so hard, Anna- you gotta know that!). I have been in the moment so many times with my kids since my diagnosis. Sitting crisscross on the floor with the almost-five-year-old on my lap as we read the book again, and again and again. This time, I’m actually reading and thinking about the words, not just getting them out. We are changing the voices for different characters together. He is directing the characters on the page. And my daughter. I listen to her and I feel like I am reliving my entire childhood in her laughter and tears. The joys of and heartbreak of friendship. The successes and failures (who am I kidding, she doesn’t fail on this) on the monkey bars. The joy in her ease of being. And the fear of her not fitting in. Neither kid stops talking, ever, and I’m listening to it like its the last time I can. Its not, but I’m listening to it like it is the last time.

I need to focus on things that make me happy.

Because I guess you really don’t know what comes around the next corner.