After finding a lump and getting a mammogram and ultrasound, I was referred for a core biopsy of both the lump in my left breast and a nearby lymph node that appeared abnormal on the ultrasound. To say I went into the appointment terrified would be an understatement.
I checked into the breast center, changed into my hospital gown, and was taken to a small private waiting area outside the exam room. Since a biopsy is technically a surgical procedure, I had what felt like an abundance of paperwork to sign. A tech sat and talked me through the documents and then asked that question I'd been trying to suppress the whole day:
How are you feeling?
Nervous. Scared. Terrified. How many other ways to put it?
My eyes filled with tears as I struggled to respond. I think I said "nervous." I took a few deep breaths and tried to stay calm. Still, it felt nice to admit to someone that I felt anything. My whole life people have seen me as emotionally strong, and I'd been trying to keep a positive attitude and avoid panic, so that little moment of release was probably necessary for me.
I wish I remembered the name of the nurse who assisted with my biopsies because I'd love to thank her. The procedure room was dim and I laid on a bed. She brought pillows to help me get comfortable since I'd be laying sort of on my side, sort of on my back for awhile. She draped a sheet over me to keep me warm and covered until the procedure. But the real gratitude lies in the fact that she talked to me. Non-stop. Instead of waiting in silence for the resident and the radiologist to come in for the biopsies, she just talked. Asked me questions, talked about herself, I don't even remember what and it didn't even matter. It helped me feel comfortable and kept me calm during what would have otherwise felt like an eternity of waiting.
Finally, the doctors came in and explained the procedure. The radiologist was laid-back and was clearly there out of formality--he let the resident, Dr. Kim, take the lead. She used the ultrasound wand to locate the areas of concern and gave me a numbing injection. The sting of the needle was truly the worst part. Then I couldn't feel a thing. She made two tiny incisions and used a core biopsy wand to take samples from the possible tumor and lymph node. The device sounded like a staple gun as she took the samples, but thankfully, no pain. I did feel the strange sensation of blood running from the biopsy site down my back--truly an out of body feeling when your breast and armpit are otherwise numb. I wondered--how much blood is back there? I would have guessed a puddle, but in the end, it was only a few drips. Perception is a tricky thing.
She only needed to take one sample from each site, much to my relief. "Dr. Kim, you are my new best friend." Even though it wasn't that bad, I was grateful to just be done with it. The nurse sent me home with an ice pack in my bra and instructions to rest and take Tylenol. The hard part is over, I thought. Or so I thought
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Breast cancer survivor.