My sister, my brother, and I the day before the biopsy

My sister, my brother, and I the day before the biopsy

By Monday morning, I was doing much better (emotionally) and just wanted the whole thing to be over with so that I could get a definite answer. My mom and my sister came with me for support, because I was really nervous.

As soon as I went into the biopsy room, however, I felt more at ease because my nurse was an incredibly sweet lady and she held my hand through the whole thing.

I had a needle-core biopsy and they used a “gun” (kind of like the one that’s used when you get your ears pierced at Claire’s or something), and removed three samples of tissue. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would; thank you numbing medicine!

Once the three samples were removed, my doctor inserted a little metal marker into the mass. I asked her how it would be removed, and she said that they’ll remove it when they do a lumpectomy after my chemo.

“After your chemo” were the only words I heard, and I repeated, “…chemo?… So… you’re saying that you think I definitely have cancer?”

By this time, tears were welling up in my eyes, no matter how hard I was trying to stop them. She looked at me with sad eyes and said that there’s only a very small chance that it isn’t.

Immediate sobs. I didn’t even bother trying to control them.

I stayed in the room for a while with my nurse, who was very sweet to just hold my hand and let me cry. She didn’t offer any positive advice or say that she was sorry. She just stood there silently holding my hands while tears streamed down my face, and that was the best thing that she could have done.

After a couple of minutes, I pulled myself together. I knew that my mom and my sister were in the other room waiting for me and that they would be that much more upset, if they saw me crying.

It was at that point that I decided to take control over how I handled this situation.I knew that this could go down one of two ways: 1) me becoming super depressed and endlessly crying over it, or 2) me accepting it and making the best of an otherwise terrible situation.

Option two seemed like the clear winner. After all, at this point there are few things that I have control over, but the one thing I can control is my outlook on the whole situation. So, I choose joy.

Now, that’s not to say that I don’t feel sad or that I don’t allow myself to cry, because I absolutely do. I mean, I am human. I’m just choosing not to let it overtake me.


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