BIOPSIES – THE WORK OF THE DEVIL

 Biopsy. It seemed like such a benign word. Little did I know.

Once the clever doctor found one suspicious spot in my breast, she started to get cocky – finding new ones to ogle all over the place. Three to begin with.

So, she did what good doctors do with suspicious spots, she ordered biopsies. Three to begin with. Two to be completed through stereotactic means and one ultrasound-guided biopsy. The first two were planned to take place on one day, back-to-back and the third one a week later.

I’m not one for really sitting around, waiting, being patient. I pushed to just get them all out of the way at once. I was told, very politely that two in one day would be “a lot” for me to handle; three would put me over the top.

I didn’t understand. I’ve given birth…twice. I’ve had an appendectomy. I’ve been married! It can’t be that bad.

And God laughed. In fact, I believe his exact words were, “Hold my beer!”

Have you ever had a stereotactic biopsy? I hope not. But let me paint you a little picture. Imagine lying on your stomach, naked from the waist up. One breast is smooshed against the flat, uncushioned rock of a bench they’ve got you on, as are your ribs. The other breast is dangling through a little hole in the rock. What’s on the other side of that hole? No idea...and I don’t want to know.

They use a needle to inject you with a local anesthetic – it’s not painful, just a little pinch and as soon as it’s done you feel nothing else…in that breast. But everything else in your body is screaming! Your one arm has been slung over your head in an unhumanly position. Your head and neck have been turned at an angle that only a zombie should be able to accomplish.

And did I mention the agony of your ribs and the “normal” breast? It’s a good thing you can’t waterboard a person whose lying on their stomach, or I’m sure they’d have added that in, too. Although, I don’t know – if mothers have eyes in the back of their heads, maybe they have foreheads back there, too.

At any rate, the procedure, though agonizingly long, was complete before the waterboarding began. Whew.

And.

Then.

They.

Began.

Again.

Because, you know, I was having two of these back-to-back, remember? I wanted to cry. I might have, but my head was down(ish) so nobody noticed.

After two hours of this hell, I was ready to flee. But the fun wasn’t over.

The lovely nurse informed me that “now we have to do a ‘gentle’ mammogram”.

Wait! What?? There’s such a thing as a gentle mammogram? Why has that never been offered to me before? Do other women know about this? I’ve been having mammograms for decades now and I assure you not one of them has been gentle.

Of course, I’m not exactly in a position to start a riot so I just gently nodded my assent and let them have their way with me. (Wow, maybe it IS like marriage! Lol)

As I waited for them to prepare a room for me, I said to the nurse, “I wonder where my son is taking me when we’re done here.” When she asked what I meant, I explained, “When my kids were little and they had to do something unpleasant I would then take them for ice cream or McDonalds or something.”

When finally they decided they had no more torture tools to employ on me they let me go. Sweet freedom!! Although my neck had finally straightened back up, I still felt like a punctured zombie as my son led me back to our car.

“So where do you want to go next,” he asked, “Maybe McDonalds or out for ice cream?”

Biopsies might be the work of the devil, but it helps to have an angel in the driver’s seat!

Oh, but there’s more…if you remember, there were three biopsies scheduled. With a touch of PTSD, I returned to the medical center the following week for the third one. The one that was supposed to put me over the top. Still sore and swollen from the last two, I was ready for whatever torture and trauma an ultrasound-guided biopsy would provide. I felt a little like a lamb headed for…well, you get the picture.

I was led to a blessedly padded cot (padded!) and asked to lie on my back. My ribs were so grateful – and so was the rest of me. And my neck? No zombie angles today – yay! They numbed me up, goobered me with ultrasound gel, found their spot, took a few samples and sent me on my happy little lamb-like way. And I ran! The child with the getaway car was primed and ready to go. “Quick!” I shouted at him, “Before they realize they forgot the waterboarding and the ‘gentle’ mammogram!”

In retrospect, it really was painful, especially once home and the numbing agent wore off. BUT, it was those biopsies that led to my very, very early breast cancer diagnosis. And for that I’m grateful. I still think those stereotactic procedures are the work of the devil, but as I’ve learned, some evils are necessary.