Normally I try to keep things light on here. I mean except for the political posts. And the PMS rants. And the slight hints of MIL drama. You know other than
those things.
But I saw a prompt on
MamaKat's blog. I check in there occasionally. It was 'Describe what brought you closer to your faith.' I think I might want to write about that now.
I've always been a religious person. When I tell someone I'll keep them in my prayers, I really do pray for them. I pray for my family daily. I believe in God and the afterlife, I believe that every thing happens for a reason. Although rarely do we get to see the reason.
Several years ago, during the time period when D and I were trying to have baby number two, I found a lump in my breast. My grandmother had breast cancer, so I panicked. I mean I thought, I have an 18-month old, and I'm trying to have another, I
can't have cancer. I called my OB/GYN's office and spoke to the nurse. She informed me that if I came in, Dr. S would just send me for a mammogram anyway, so I needed to just make an appointment for a mammogram. I did. It was a week away.
I waited. I worried. I prayed.
I went in for the mammogram. It's very surreal to be there as a 32 year old. I mean they don't recommend a baseline mammogram until 40, right? Anyway. The woman was very nice and chatty which helped. I was very worried about being possibly pregnant and having an xray. D went with me of course. We found out nothing that day.
Or the next.
Or the next.
Finally I called my OB's office on a Friday afternoon. I could not go through the weekend not knowing. My nurse looked at the report and called me back. "I'm not supposed to tell you anything until Dr. S looks it over, but everything was fine."
Thank God. I mean all that worry for nothing. We quickly resumed trying for number two.
Monday morning the nurse called back. Now I know why she's not supposed to say anything. She was wrong. The mammogram was too hard to read--all that dense breast tissue HA. It turns out that I need a
Scintimammogram. Otherwise known as a nuclear mammogram. Okay. So we're back to square one.
That mammogram was scheduled the next day. D went with me again. I got called back and the nurse said 'does your husband want to stay for the whole time?' I guess I looked really puzzled so she said 'they didn't tell you that it's going to take over two hours?'. No, they didn't. In fact "they" have explained little to nothing about everything thus far.
"Yes," I said. "He'll be staying the entire time."
The radiologist came and injected the nuclear dye/marker/whatthehellever into my veins and I cried. Not because it hurt, but because he was injecting something nuclear into my veins and there was this slight chance that I could be pregnant and, my God,
cancer?
Then I had the mammogram. It took several pictures for 10 minutes each on each side. And then again on the side with the lump. Turns out I had much in common with the woman taking the mammogram. We chatted as if I didn't have a boob stuck in a vise while nuclear dye coursed through my system looking for cancer cells to stick to.
Free to go.
Free to you know, worry some more. I didn't need to worry long. The next morning my nurse called me at 8:30 in the morning. They wanted to do a biopsy. To be specific, a needle-directed
incisional biopsy. I asked her if this was done often, and she assured me that most of the time there was nothing to worry about. She recommended a surgeon and said he was really good. She thought that I wouldn't need to be put to sleep that it was likely an in office procedure. It's not.
I had to pick up my results from the radiologist and take them to the surgeon. I of course read them. Here's the quote that is permanently etched in my brain:
"high probability of cancer or other similar pathogen."
I'm not really sure what other similar pathogen means, but it sounds serious enough. Apparently there was a high uptake of the dye in a certain area. Not, interestingly enough, in the area of the lump. The lump which was nowhere to be found. The surgeon was amazing. When he saw the results he said, 'well that does sound serious doesn't it?' But he also said, 'we're going to get you some good news.'
My surgery was scheduled for Good Friday. We called and emailed everyone we knew (just about) to pray. I had the nuns praying for me. I had prayer chains. I had a 2am moment alone in the bathroom railing at God to NOT DO THIS TO ME! I mean, 'high probability of cancer' sounds pretty damn real. All day long my brain kept saying 'I can't leave her, I can't leave her...' I made my husband promise to learn how to paint fingernails.
The technician from the radiologist office called to explain some things to me about the 'needle directed' part. (The only person other than the surgeon to explain things to me.) When I asked her how accurate the Scintimammogram was she said 75%. I was actually relieved since everything I had read online said 95% accurate. So you know 20% in my favor? I'll take it.
It's pretty much your standard day surgery. Except with the optional death-sentence outcome. They gave me something to relax me. Not even close. I was wheeled across the street to have the needle inserted by the radiologist so the surgeon knew what to remove. He said, 'you could have a large indention and some dimpling in the area of the scar.' I just nodded. Not really my primary concern right now mister, but thanks for letting me know I'll likely be disfigured no matter what the outcome.
After a few more hours of waiting, I was taken down to surgery. I remember waking up to a cute male nurse asking me to cough and then leaving me behind a curtain to dress myself. I had adhesive stuck to my face and a tight ace bandage around me chest. And I was just so relieved that the surgery was over. I was wheeled out to my vehicle through the waiting area where my husband, mom, Godmother, brother and sister-in-law were waiting for me. We went home. I had no after effects of the anesthesia, just a little pain in my breast. Not enough to warrant a pain pill.
The weekend we spent quietly. Little d hunted for eggs in the backyard on Sunday. My BFF made a card and everyone signed it and sent well wishes from my Grandmother's house. I was incredibly tired all weekend.
I had to wait until Tuesday for my followup with the surgeon to get the results. It was a holiday weekend after all. I sat in the waiting room with D. I watched another couple in there. A woman and her husband and her mother. The mother was praying. I saw a couple of other patients. One woman was having cancer treatments. All very real.
Finally it was our turn. The nurse came in the room with us and asked how the wound was. 'Did you already call this morning to get your results?'
'No.' I didn't know I could.
'It's okay.'
'What do you mean--there's nothing wrong?'
'Yes, everything was normal.' She smiled. It must be nice to be able to give good news like that.
'Are you serious?'
'Yes.' She left to get the doctor. I cried and D called mom on his cell. Just like that. Everything was normal, except that nothing
will ever be normal again. When the surgeon came in he gave a little aside to the nurse while looking at my chart...'you know how unusual this is?' 'Yes' she said. I guess you don't go into surgery too often with a high probability of cancer or other similar pathogen and get good results.
On the ride home, D held my hand and summed it all up with this rhetorical question:
"It kind of restores your faith, doesn't it."Yes it did. I don't know what I was supposed to learn from that journey. I even said that to D. 'Why did we go through this? What am I supposed to learn?' He said, 'Maybe
I was the one who was supposed to learn something, like to never take you for granted.'
I think about it often. Every month when I do my monthly self breast exam. When my BFF found a lump (it was nothing thank God). When I think about my miscarriage. (I think the two are related, but I will save that for another post.)
I sometimes think there was something there and that through prayer God performed a miracle. I sometimes think maybe it was an area that would have turned into cancer down the road and now it's gone. I don't know exactly, but I do know that I feel like God touched my life through this incident. Okay I've cried enough typing this post, off to hug my kiddos!! And my husband!!
