The Breast Gets Better

 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 ...

Oh, I’m aware alright! It feels like I’ve donated my life to science. I would say ‘my body’ but they’re not interested in my body – just my boobs and my time. I can’t even count the number of people who have seen my naked breasts lately. On the bright side, I can easily brag that every single person who’s felt me up in the past six weeks has a doctorate degree. On the other hand, this fact still hasn’t made one lick of improvement in my relationship status. I want to scream in frustration at the countless hours I’ve spent in numerous doctor’s visits. “I DO have a life, you know…and work!! I can’t drop everything at the drop of a hat every time you want a new image.” But the rational side of me reminds me to be grateful. If it weren’t for the very keen eyes of the radiologist who read my mammogram scans I wouldn’t be preparing for breast cancer surgery. I wouldn’t even know that I have breast cancer. I keep reminding myself that she was incredibly perceptive and tenacious saying to ...