A Breast Cancer Scare

Last month I had a breast cancer scare. I went to the doctor for what I thought was a little problem, and she sent me for an immediate mammogram. There are seven visible signs of breast cancer (and more invisible signs) and I had four of the seven. At the imaging center, my mammogram turned into more mammograms which turned into sonograms, all with doctors coming in and out, leaving the room to consult with each other, and coming back in for more breast pummeling. By the time I left, 2.5 hours later, with instructions to have a biopsy, I was a mess, both physically and emotionally.

I went home and immediately scheduled my biopsy, all the time in shock that this was happening to me. My thoughts were most of all for my children. They are 12 and 15 now, so they've had a mom for most of their formative years, but it would still be devastating to lose their mother at their ages. I worried about what the experience of their mother having to battle cancer would be like for them, even if I survived. And I worried about Ken maybe having to be a single dad.

I felt like I might have a ticking time bomb in my breast that could explode any minute, and if it was cancer, screw vanity, I wanted that sucker cut off as soon as possible. I am way past the age where I desire Playboy breasts. My breasts gave my children life for the first half year of their lives. Boobs may be fun, but their intended purpose is to give life to babies, and they did a great job of that. I won't be having any more children, and my husband loves me for much more than my breasts, so they are expendable. My life is not. I need to be here for my family.

I am about 30 pounds overweight but otherwise am in good health, and I have always done everything correctly: Annual mammograms, pap smears, and my first colonoscopy at age 50. I have no history of breast cancer in my family. So I had nothing to worry about, right? Then I learned that the vast majority of women who get breast cancer have no history of it in their families, plus a whole bunch of other stuff that terrified me.

I was so frightened that I knew if I allowed myself to experience the depth of my fears, I wouldn't have been able to function. I called my wonderful boss to tell her what I was going through, and decided not to tell anyone else at work, because even though I work with a fantastic group of people, I didn't want to even think about the devastating possibilities while I was there. Then the day before my biopsy surgery, I became depressed in the morning. I had been holding myself together for the past week and I just couldn't do it anymore. I fell into bed, emotionally exhausted, and allowed myself to sleep the afternoon and evening away. That turned out to be a good idea because I was well-rested and as relaxed as could be expected for my surgery the next day.

The results came in five days later. I am fine. No findings of breast cancer. It was the best phone call of my life. There were some complications after the biopsy because my incision opened and my breast became infected, but the bottom line is I don't have cancer.

I was always aware of this issue but now I have a deeper appreciation for what the actual experience of battling breast cancer must be like for women, and men, who are challenged with it. This experience has also made me more determined to honor my body. I don't have cancer, but the fact that I could have had it really hit home. Now that I'm past 50 it's no longer unusual to see people my age in the obituaries. Settling into a lifestyle of physical health and emotional peace and contentment is more important than ever.