Dodging the Breast Cancer Bullet

I have just received the news that the lump in my breast is a group of cysts.  I really don't know why I am not jumping around the house doing the Snoopy Dance.  While I was in limbo, I was really convinced my turn had finally come.  I mean, Mum, Katrina, family history, the fact I smoke like a chimney and wear underwire bras even when I don't have any "under." I should have punched the BC ticket a long time ago.

So why aren't I dancing?  Is it just because I'm grieving for Uncle Norm?  Is it the anti-depressants they have me on to fight the fibromyalgia?  I do feel relieved and grateful.  I'm happy my kids and the Mountain Man will not have to take the cancer journey with me again.  That was cervical but a few years ago I had another lump and I didn't tell my husband until after the biopsy because he gets so stressed and won't do anything about it.

When I first found this lump, 34 days ago, I was almost terrified to bring it to my doctor.  I felt frozen.  Then I sat in denial for awhile, which didn't last long since my inner Gramma told me I was being stupid.  When I finally did go to the doctor I took Mountain Man with me because he said he needed to be involved.  He took it like the man he is.  He stopped talking about it but joked, "Guess that's the only girl on girl action I'll ever see." when my female doctor examined it for herself.

After that I told him I didn't need him to take me to the mammogram because I saw he really couldn't take it and I couldn't take seeing him try to be supportive while falling apart inside.  

My friend Sarah offered to take me since I haven't been able to drive for months with my back and fibromyalgia acting up.  We both found the paperwork highly amusing.  At one point it says, "I agree that the results of this treatment can be reported to [various medical agencies and research foundations] and The Nuclear Safety Commission!!! " Why a Nuclear Safety commission would be interested in pictures of my boobs boggles the mind.

So with my customary humour I decided that it must mean I was going to have radioactive boobs and that would make me a superhero!  Therefore I needed a superhero name.  I liked my granddaughters idea the best, Supernova Nona!  Of course my redneck honey came up with 'Radioactive Boob Woman.'  Subtle is definitely not his style.

The mammogram was it's  usual annoying time but I noticed they have a screen on the machine that shows how many pounds per inch is on your boob.  Mine was 20-odd pounds.  I don't get it.  It's not like the technician will see the screen so why on earth would they put that there just so the patient can see it?  I really did not need to know how many psi was pushing down on my breast.  I could feel it.  The guy, (it has to be a guy, no woman would do that,) who designed the machine is just sadistic.

And really? with all the money put into Breast Cancer Research, why can't someone come up with a screening test that doesn't hurt?  I mean guys get a blood test for prostate cancer.  It's a man's world Baby~

I saw the mass on the ultrasound screen.  It was black.  I've never seen a lump be black so it further convinced me it was my time.  They should not let patients see the screen if they aren't going to explain the results.  Especially if it Thursday and their doctor is not in until Monday.

I noted the irony that I spent the earlier part of the year sewing gowns for the Arnprior Mammogram screening clinic for Aunt Elta and I was freezing in paper gown here in Ottawa.  I talked to the technician and found that they have the same problem finding super-large gowns for patients who are hefty.  They end up wrapping them in paper sheets so I think, in my thankfulness, that as soon as Anime North Costume season is over I'm going to make the Ottawa clinic some and donate them.  It's bad enough going through all this without having to deal with no gown fitting you as well.  "Yeah!  More Pink," she said sarcastically.

Oddly, being sure it was cancer was oddly freeing.  I mean, I really stopped worrying about the future.  I was totally living in the now.  I laughed harder.  I made sure my children and my husband know how much I love them.  I took the time to tell people stuff I wanted to be sure they knew just in case.  Even if it was just that I love them.

Sarah took me to the Women's Show to distract me.  She is such a good friend.  I had a great time.  I went up to the Canadian Forces table and said, "Thank you for being our military, we appreciate you."

I went up to the Breast Cancer Awareness table and said, "Thank you for the time and energy you put into volunteering and fundraising."

I made Sarah, not a girly girl, try some foundation that made her look like a Twilight Vampire and sparkled in the sun.  

I loaded up on prescription allergy meds and sure enough I was trapped in a crowd with a woman who feels it necessary to bathe in cheap perfume.  I really wanted a portable fire extinguisher to spray on her or to threaten to follow her home and fart in her living room.  I settled for getting some more Benedryl into me.  However as Sarah and I got into the elevator to go to the drugstore for some migraine meds, I freaked the security guard who happened to be in there with us out.  I was babbling mad that I could still taste the perfume even after drinking liquid Benadryl and she thought I was panicking.  Sarah just smiled and I told the poor guard, "No, I'm just babbling, this is my normal."  Sarah just nodded and smiled.

I am not even going to talk about needle biopsy.  There really is only one word to say, "OWWWWW"

So here I am 34 days later and I've just updated friends and family and you think I'd be dancing.

Maybe I'm just bummed I won't be "Supernova Nona."  Mind you, I would have looked horrible in spandex.