That dreaded phone call...
I knew it when I saw the name on my phone screen.
"Rosa? This is Dr. Nance." Before she continued, I said "They found something."
"Yes," she said. "The mammogram shows something on your right breast. You need to come in for more tests."
Wait, what? Did she just said "right breast"?
"That is weird," I told Dr. Nance, trying to keep my composure, "because I found something on my left breast, but nothing on the right one."
A couple of days before my scheduled annual mammogram, I was doing a self-examination and found a lump by my left armpit. I asked Andrew to check it out; since I have been working out and doing weights, I thought perhaps it was a muscle; but there was definitively something in there. I was glad my appointment was scheduled for the following Saturday.
"What is next," I asked. Dr. Nance said that I had to go in for more diagnostic tests and that she was going to include both both breasts just to make sure that nothing was missed. I hung up the phone. I lost it. I cried, grateful that my daughters were not here then. I called Andrew and told him, and asked him to come home soon. I did not want to be alone. And then I started looking for information. I found great news on WebMD, but still, I could not help it but feel scared.
If you know me, you also know my vivid imagination. I let go and started creating all possible sorts of scenarios and making plans for whatever could possibly happen. Do I have enough sick time if necessary? I had just used most of it during my leave of absence. When and how would I tell my daughters about this? Would I have to cancel the family vacation if treatment was needed? Not once did I think of dying; I just thought of the possibility of a battle ahead of me.
In addition to Andrew, I also told Omar. I could not keep this from him. I tried very much to keep positive. I have always felt that if I am able to hold a positive front, others around me will do the same. I'll break down when I am alone; I will cry then and keep my sorrow to myself. But in front of others, I will be strong.
I called Dr. Nance the next day and asked for my orders to be faxed to me; I could not wait until they arrived by mail. I needed to schedule my appointment fast, but the fastest they could book me was 6 days away. The next couple of days were full of mixed emotions. I tried to go about my day as normally as possible; worked out, cooked, and tried to keep my mind away from the matter. But it was there all along. I could not shake it off. As much as I tried, in those moments when you are not thinking about much, invariably the memory of the phone call came back to me and shook me all over again. And to make things worse, over the weekend, I received the letter from the hospital confirming the need for additional tests.
Tuesday morning came and I headed to the hospital, alone. On that day, there were various things that needed to be done at home and at work, and I, always my efficient self, assigned tasks which resulted on my being alone at the hospital for the diagnostic tests. I think this was also another effort to protect others from going through this with me. And I honestly think that if somebody would have been there with me I would have been a total mess, which is exactly what happened when the technician called me in and started to explain the procedure: I just bawled. She was understanding and tried to calm my fears, talking to me about breast density, mass size, bilateral views, and showing me the pictures, which clearly showed the mass...on the left breast.
"Wait," I told her, "Isn't that the left breast? My doctor and the letter from the hospital said it was on the right breast." The nurse said that it had been a mistake during transcription of the results. I am glad that I pay attention to my body. While the mass was not where I thought I had felt it, it was indeed on the left breast. And I am glad that I questioned it when they told me it was the right breast. You know your body; you should always question whatever does not feel right.
After the new set of pictures, the technician stepped out of the room to show them to the doctor for review and evaluation. When she came back, she said that the doctor thought everything was fine. He had compared my current pictures with previous years' ones and everything seemed fine. Yes, there was a mass, but nothing of concern. Yes! Now let's go to the ultrasound.
The ultrasound technician happened to be from Puerto Rico, and right away we engaged in conversation in Spanish, talking about the island, about raising bilingual children, and girls with curly hair. This took my mind away from the procedure and before I knew it, we were done. She stepped out of the room to show the results to the doctor and a while later was back with good news: everything was OK! "Now what," I asked. "Nothing," she said. "You will come back for your mammogram next year and we will probably do another ultrasound to make sure that everything is fine."
Everything was fine. And yet, I still needed some more reassurance, which came on Wednesday morning when Dr. Nance called me to verify that indeed, the results of the additional diagnostic tests were fine and that nothing else was needed at this point, and today, when I got the test results, tangible evidence that everything is fine!
Later that day I told my daughters about having gone to the doctor for additional tests, and let them know that everything was fine. I am glad I waited to tell them; getting them worried before would have been useless.
All this was scary, but I have to say that for that short period of time, I learned quite a bit. I let go of unimportant things. I made decisions about my family, putting my family first without hesitation. And was reassured that I am loved and supported. And I learned to love my body all over again. More than ever, I am committed to keeping it healthy.
"Rosa? This is Dr. Nance." Before she continued, I said "They found something."
"Yes," she said. "The mammogram shows something on your right breast. You need to come in for more tests."
Wait, what? Did she just said "right breast"?
"That is weird," I told Dr. Nance, trying to keep my composure, "because I found something on my left breast, but nothing on the right one."
A couple of days before my scheduled annual mammogram, I was doing a self-examination and found a lump by my left armpit. I asked Andrew to check it out; since I have been working out and doing weights, I thought perhaps it was a muscle; but there was definitively something in there. I was glad my appointment was scheduled for the following Saturday.
"What is next," I asked. Dr. Nance said that I had to go in for more diagnostic tests and that she was going to include both both breasts just to make sure that nothing was missed. I hung up the phone. I lost it. I cried, grateful that my daughters were not here then. I called Andrew and told him, and asked him to come home soon. I did not want to be alone. And then I started looking for information. I found great news on WebMD, but still, I could not help it but feel scared.
If you know me, you also know my vivid imagination. I let go and started creating all possible sorts of scenarios and making plans for whatever could possibly happen. Do I have enough sick time if necessary? I had just used most of it during my leave of absence. When and how would I tell my daughters about this? Would I have to cancel the family vacation if treatment was needed? Not once did I think of dying; I just thought of the possibility of a battle ahead of me.
In addition to Andrew, I also told Omar. I could not keep this from him. I tried very much to keep positive. I have always felt that if I am able to hold a positive front, others around me will do the same. I'll break down when I am alone; I will cry then and keep my sorrow to myself. But in front of others, I will be strong.
I called Dr. Nance the next day and asked for my orders to be faxed to me; I could not wait until they arrived by mail. I needed to schedule my appointment fast, but the fastest they could book me was 6 days away. The next couple of days were full of mixed emotions. I tried to go about my day as normally as possible; worked out, cooked, and tried to keep my mind away from the matter. But it was there all along. I could not shake it off. As much as I tried, in those moments when you are not thinking about much, invariably the memory of the phone call came back to me and shook me all over again. And to make things worse, over the weekend, I received the letter from the hospital confirming the need for additional tests.
 |
| I opened the envelope, looked at it briefly, and put the letter aside... |
Tuesday morning came and I headed to the hospital, alone. On that day, there were various things that needed to be done at home and at work, and I, always my efficient self, assigned tasks which resulted on my being alone at the hospital for the diagnostic tests. I think this was also another effort to protect others from going through this with me. And I honestly think that if somebody would have been there with me I would have been a total mess, which is exactly what happened when the technician called me in and started to explain the procedure: I just bawled. She was understanding and tried to calm my fears, talking to me about breast density, mass size, bilateral views, and showing me the pictures, which clearly showed the mass...on the left breast.
"Wait," I told her, "Isn't that the left breast? My doctor and the letter from the hospital said it was on the right breast." The nurse said that it had been a mistake during transcription of the results. I am glad that I pay attention to my body. While the mass was not where I thought I had felt it, it was indeed on the left breast. And I am glad that I questioned it when they told me it was the right breast. You know your body; you should always question whatever does not feel right.
After the new set of pictures, the technician stepped out of the room to show them to the doctor for review and evaluation. When she came back, she said that the doctor thought everything was fine. He had compared my current pictures with previous years' ones and everything seemed fine. Yes, there was a mass, but nothing of concern. Yes! Now let's go to the ultrasound.
The ultrasound technician happened to be from Puerto Rico, and right away we engaged in conversation in Spanish, talking about the island, about raising bilingual children, and girls with curly hair. This took my mind away from the procedure and before I knew it, we were done. She stepped out of the room to show the results to the doctor and a while later was back with good news: everything was OK! "Now what," I asked. "Nothing," she said. "You will come back for your mammogram next year and we will probably do another ultrasound to make sure that everything is fine."
Everything was fine. And yet, I still needed some more reassurance, which came on Wednesday morning when Dr. Nance called me to verify that indeed, the results of the additional diagnostic tests were fine and that nothing else was needed at this point, and today, when I got the test results, tangible evidence that everything is fine!
 |
| Deep breath! |
Later that day I told my daughters about having gone to the doctor for additional tests, and let them know that everything was fine. I am glad I waited to tell them; getting them worried before would have been useless.
All this was scary, but I have to say that for that short period of time, I learned quite a bit. I let go of unimportant things. I made decisions about my family, putting my family first without hesitation. And was reassured that I am loved and supported. And I learned to love my body all over again. More than ever, I am committed to keeping it healthy.
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