I probably won't post this. Is is too personal? Sometimes it is easier to say things to you lot than to people I have to see every day. There is an understanding or maybe a commonality that gives a sense of sisterhood without the strings. To the few of you I have known for years, this is easier than repeating a phone call. To the new friends, bear with me.
Anyway I have to have a mammogram tomorrow. It's not the normal one I should have had at the end of the month. It is an urgent one to be followed by an ultrasound. There is something 'irregular' in my left breast. "Something nasty in the woodshed". Hopefully not too nasty.
I found it last week end preparing for the 3 year old's party. I had a shower and for some reason did a fleeting and half hearted breast exam. They have always been haphazard because I have got bigguns. D-cup delights. Harder to find things in. So then I went to the G.P. for a check. I asked about Shorty's tonsils and immunisation, then asked, almost casually, if she could check something odd in my left breast. She did. She chatted to Shorty as she felt around in a most meticulous manner. Then she rang the hospital to ask for an ultrasound and Mammogram. She refused the first appointment they offered and said it was urgent. I pretended I didn't hear that.
Apparently these breast lumps can be lots of things like cysts, hormonal changes, blah blah deposits but we all know what they CAN be. Remember the ABC office cluster, the cricket team wearing pink, other peoples' families.
I have five children. I have three on the cusp of puberty, one in the middle of primary and one just beginning her life. This can't be happening to me! But it is. It may be nothing but it may be something.
My first reaction was to just have them off- quickly! How simple. Being small breasted could be okay in fact. Just don't let it get between me and my children. Then I foolishly googled images of mastectomies. You should never google medical information. It is very disturbing.
My breasts have been many things: embarrassments, bikini fillers, wenches' accessories, pillows, sunburnt, scrubbed, baby feeders and snugglers. That was by far the best and most marvellous reason to have them. I loved breast feeding. I was lucky to find it easy. They've been good to me these breasts. What did I do to upset them? Have I let them down? Maybe I like them after all. They are like old friends- with me through thick and thin waists, I'm fond of them even with their foibles.
Meanwhile I've been starting Shorty at kindy, picking up kids, negotiating with the swimming coach, ringing after school care, tidying the boys' room, listening to a young peoples' literature evening at school, making stew, moving things around, cleaning the bathroom, moving things around again. Keep moving, be busy, don't stop.
It's probably nothing but, either way, I want to record what I felt so I would remember to be more loving, less cranky and let my babies know how splendid and funny and sweet they are. After all, things can change in more sudden ways than this. You just never think about it.
She tells me on Friday if I need a fine needle aspiration or not. I'll keep you posted, post.
P.S. Thursday: Having had the mammogram breast squisher do its thing, Breast and I are off for a core biopsy tomorrow. I am quite nervous. Have any of you been there, done this? Just the good stories, please!