What Breast Cancer Awareness Month Means To Me

It was three years ago that I went for a routine physical.  I take a medication and I am forced to get a physical every year to get my refill.  During this examination the doctor found a lump in my breast.  I was not very concerned.  I expected it to be nothing.  From the doctors office I went for a mamogram.  The mamogram came back suspicious. By now I was getting concerned, but still optomistic that the sonogram would come back fine.  Exray is not a very warm and fuzzy experience.  As a matter of fact it is a unpleasant place to be.  The sonogram was complete and the technician is not giving me any information.  The doctor comes in to converse with me.  I am alone and dressed in a sheet in this dark room shivering from the cold.  The doctor walks over to me and bluntly says, "You have a 50/50 chance of having cancer," and walks out of the room.  I am sitting there on the exam table just completely blown away with this technician telling me that I need to make an appointment with a surgeon.  Talk about ruining your day.  The only thing I can think of is I have to see my childern grow up.  The surgeon I went to was just as wonderful as the exray doctor had been awful.  My only request was that they let me stay awake.  I don't like medication if I can avoid it.  The day for the surgery to remove the lump was pretty dismal.  I was at the hospital at 6:00 a.m.  There was a mix up with insurance and it took until almost 10:00 to straighten that out.  By now I had not eaten in over 12 hours.  The trip back to exray was another awful experience.  They put your breast in that mamogram contracption.  The plan is to shoot a wire through your breast into the lump.  The thinking is that in surgery they use the wire to easily remove the lump.  In my case the lump was on the bottom side.  The doctor shot the wire in from the top and missed at least a dozen times.  When that torture was over I eventually ended up in surgery at about noon.  I reminded everyone I am staying awake for the procedure.  I don't want any mixups.  I am rolled into surgery.  To deaden me for the surgery there is a series of shots that feel like wasp stings for a few seconds.  There is a whole team for this little procedure.  My surgeon forgets that I am awake and begins cussing.  I hear him say, "He called me and told me that he messed up, but I can't find the damn wire."  Over and over he says, "I can't find the damn wire."  He has removed the lump and still is cussing the wire that he can't find.  Eventually, he gets the wire out, I am sewed up and on my way to recovery.  My story has a happy ending.  My surgeon was wonderful.  He made me feel hopeful even when he thought that it was bad.  His sense of humor was so contagious.  During this month of breast cancer awareness I am very thankful that I am alright and around to watch my 3 wonderful children grow up.  It could have had a very different ending.