March 14th. The day had finally come. I took the whole day off just in case the appointment took longer than I had anticipated… and it’s a good thing that I did.
I saw my doctor at 8:30 on the dot and immediately told her why I was there. She’s a young doctor, maybe a few years older than myself (which oddly comforted me), and she was incredibly understanding about everything that I told her.
She asked me if anyone in my family, on either side, had ever had breast or ovarian cancer. I said no, and she said, “Okay, well I’m going to take a look, but I’m telling you right now, because of your age, family history, and health, it’s incredibly unlikely that you have anything to worry about.”
I was relieved, but still had reservations.
She began the exam and almost immediately looked really worried. She felt the lump for about five minutes and wrote down a few notes (something none of my other doctors had done before).
She told me to get dressed and said she’d be back in a second. My heart immediately started racing.
When she returned, she had another doctor with her and a few papers in her hand. The new doctor told me that they were really concerned about the mass and wanted to me get it looked at immediately. She said that they were referring me to a breast clinic (one of the best in Austin), and that they were going to refer me for an ultrasound, mammogram, and possible biopsy.
My head started swimming, and the fear and anxiety hit me almost immediately. For some reason, I had always imagined that when this time came, the doctors would be super relaxed about it and tell me, “Oh, yeah. You should probably get that checked out, but there’s no rush.”
My doctors were having the complete opposite reaction and their hastiness scared me.
As I left the doctor’s office, I called Ivory and started sobbing. I felt terrible because he was waiting for a flight to Georgia to attend a funeral and the last thing I wanted to do was burden him with something else, but he was the only person I wanted to talk to. He has a way of calming down when I feel like I can’t be calmed. He listened to me repeat everything the doctors had said, and even though he was comforting me, I could hear the nervousness in his voice.
After a few minutes, I let him go because he had to go through airport security, and it was honestly one of the hardest goodbyes that I’ve ever had to say to him.
Immediately after getting off the phone with him, I called my mom, told her everything, and before I could even ask, she told she’d meet me at the clinic for my ultrasound and mammogram.
By the time I got to there, I had gained control over my emotions again and I was determined to be as calm as possible about this. It didn’t last long though.
I spent what felt like forever getting my ultrasound and the nurse took so many pictures that I lost count. With every picture she took my stomach sank deeper and deeper into the table.
Next was my mammogram (which was not nearly as painful as I had always heard that it was… but maybe I’m just lucky). Afterward, the nurse told me and my mom to wait in a private waiting area and said that she would have someone come talk to me in a second. Once again, I felt a pit in my stomach. I could especially tell that my mom was getting nervous because she was being overly positive and she kept doing this nervous laugh that she always does when she’s scared.
Either way, I am so glad that she was there. I don’t think I would’ve made it through the wait had she not been there.