Thursday, April 28, 2016

Of mammograms and mental breakdowns.

Up next, in another exciting episode of "Breast Center" ...
Nothing. Nothing happens in the latest installment of your least-favorite cheesy drama and mine, "Breast Center."

I went in for my regular mammogram. My Guy was out of town, and the night before the boob smooshing, I woke up screaming because I thought there was a man with a rope standing next to my bed.

Ha. Hahahaha. I might have been a little stressed, even though I haven't had any problems of the boob variety.

But I went to the Breast Center like a normal 40-year-old ladyperson for my almost normal-like mammogram. Except I upgraded to the 3-D mammogram, even though it cost an extra 60 bucks that wasn't covered by insurance. Me and and my mega-dense rack? We're worth it.

The Breast Center was crazy busy. There were lots of women in the waiting room. Per usual, I was the youngest. I played with my phone and I waited. And waited. And started to panic.

When your grandma died of breast cancer and your mom survived a nasty bout of it by the skin of her teeth and you had your first lumpectomy at 23? Well ... you're a poseur.

I was totally pretending that everything was normal and fine. I purposely scheduled my appointment first thing in the morning so I didn't have time to worry about it. But that packed waiting room gave me time to think and panic and stew and wait for the other shoe to drop.

Would this be the year? Would it be now that I find out that ha ha ha, my get-of-jail-free cards are up? I've basically gone vegan, but would that just be a cruel joke that failed to protect me while also severely limiting my restaurant options? Would I be a very, very sad case?

But when the tech called my name, I smiled, and asked how her day was going, and made small talk as we walked down the hall. I put on the cape. My breasts were manipulated between the plastic shelf thingys. It took no time at all and then I got to leave.

As I walked to my car, I looked at the two spots in the parking lot where I have sat in my car and cried. Ahh, first cyst - I was just a baby! And look - where I called my then-fiance in tears over Antoine, the TBD breast lump. Oh, the memories!

I had to be snarky about it or I'd be in my car crying once more. And I've started wearing mascara again, so that just didn't work for me.

I held my breath for 2 days but never got the dreaded "abnormality" phone call. And then I got the letter saying that they didn't see anything but oh, by the way, did you know that your boobs are mega-dense?

Yes. Yes, I know. I never need to carry a hammer. I just use my boob to drive nails.

I try to be a lady of grace and dignity. And I try to be calm and know that Jesus is behind the wheel and I shouldn't stress out because stress causes cysts.

But sometimes? Especially when I'm sitting in the Breast Center waiting room? I freak the fuck out.

9 comments:

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

I'm really glad that's done with and the report was a clean one.
You totally deserve to freak out. In fact, in future mammograms you should book a massage immediately following or something. Or call me and I'll meet you in the parking lot with a six pack and drive you home.

Angie said...

Oh, the memories of freaky moments. I know how they can haunt. Hugs to you! So very glad for another round of not-bad news.

Suburban Correspondent said...

That IS scary. So glad it went okay!

spokalulu said...

Dang, woman! They should note on your chart that you deserve an "all is well" phone call ASAP.
I remember reading about the lumps and thinking how scary it would be. So glad you have a good report!

Kari Wagner said...

I have lumpy breasts.
Apparently, that's a "thing".
So I can't do the self test because someone like myself, a fellow freak the fuck outer, will think I have breast cancer every single time I feel myself up.
I am so glad you are okay.
But I totally get why you freak out.
FREAK AWAY, MY FRIEND.
FREAK AWAY.

Becky said...

Occasionally I'll get a mammogram tech who gets it and will be kind and reassuring and will tell me right there all is well. When I get those, I always wonder why they can't all be like that.
I freak out about the dentist. Irrationally so. We're talking gripping the arms of the chair with white knuckles while getting my teeth cleaned. God forbid I need to get work done. I've been known to sit there with silent tears running down my face. For reals.

Becky Brown said...

I love you guys. Truly, madly, deeply. Thank you for the kind words. Mel? I will totally drink a six-pack with you in the hospital parking lot. And Kari? For what it's worth, when doctors ask if I do self-exams, I'm all, "Of course." But the truth is that I kind of half-ass it because otherwise everything feels like CANCER. And Becky? We all just do the best we can, and if that's crying at the dentist? That's fine.

Banjo Unfabulousness said...

Im glad the ta-ta's are good. And freaking out? Is a healthy way of dealing with this. At least your arent bottling it all up. Now, sit back and raise a glass to the healthy rack you are sportin.

cookingwithgas said...

I too have, had dense breast with recall notices in the past. I went coffee, chocolate, caffeine free for 32 years. After menopause, no issues. I used a service for years that allowed me to wait 10 minutes while they read my results. It was worth it for me.
Carry on, life can be good.