It Won't Be As Bad As You Think (Part II of the Boob Saga)

(For the first part of the Boob Saga, go here.)

After the doctor told me there was a mass in my breast and that it would need to be biopsied, I won't lie to you...she might as well have been the teacher from Charlie Brown..."mwa mwa mwa mwa biopsy mwa mwa mwa incision mwa mwa mwa mwa blood mwa mwa mwa mwa bruising."  While she informed me of all these very critical and necessary things, all I could think was, "don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry."  I focused on her lips moving and the sound coming from them.  I focused on the now blank ultrasound screen.  I focused on this very funky, cool, and expensive-looking necklace she was wearing, even thinking, "I should tell her how much I like that." 

The ultrasound technician came back and brought a nurse friend and they prepped me for the biopsy.  I was pretty wide-eyed, maintaining composure externally while still telling myself, "don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry."  The technician patted my arm and told me, "It won't be as bad as you think it will be."  On the inside, now I was laughing.  Yea, right, sweetheart!  A needle?  In my breast?  Taking samples? Did I mention this was in my breast???

Truth be told, she was right.  It was all relatively pain-free.  The worst part of the whole procedure (besides the whole facing your own mortality issue) was the Novocaine shot to numb you up.  And even that wasn't so bad.  For hours, I had no pain, and then what little discomfort I had was easily managedwith extra-strength acetaminophen.  Certain things would freak me out a bit...like when Remodel Man said to me, trying to sound calm but clearly freaking out, "Oh, there's a little blood on your shirt..."  They had warned me to not do anything with the upper body that required even a little bit of strain.  But, I had to make dinner and help Builder Boy and drive the car.  I had also forgotten that the doctor told me to put on a sports bra to help keep things nice and tight in there-oops.  So as soon as the bleeding started, I donned the sports bra and it did help. 

Emotionally, it's been odd.  I broke down just a bit when I called Remodel Man to tell him, but quickly recovered.  But then I had to call the retail place I work to call off and the manager on duty was not the least bit sympathetic.  "Well," she said, "If you don't want to be penalized, you'll have to provide a doctor's excuse." If I could have quit, I would have done so right then.  I understand that the level of professionalism in these type of companies, especially at this level, is very low, but seriously, did they really think I would lie about having a breast biopsy?  Especially with all I've been through.  I was dying to show up there on the way home, lift up my shirt and bra and show them the darn  incision.  (Remodel Man calmly suggested that this was not a good idea.  )  This whole situation upset me so much that when I called to tell my parents and my dad answered, it was all over.  I was a sniveling mess.  (But daddies can do that to their girls...I just heard his voice and broke down.) 

But I'm okay.  I'm freaked and tonight as I read to Builder Boy, his soft smooth skin under my hand, his face intent on the story we were reading (tonight's selection was a Splat the Cat book), my heart broke about what could happen.  Quickly, though, I pulled myself together.

What really helped calm me is this piece, sent to me by a friend.

I may visit this pretend place momentarily, but I don't want to go it alone. 

Comments

[Porsche Nut]

That was an AWESOME piece to read! It's true for so many situations. I hope I remember it when I need it. But for now, know that no matter what place you go to, real or pretend, I am right there next to you.