I sometimes feel guilty for how long I waited before I did something about the lump. I don’t know when I felt it, but it was in the fall of 2013. I’m sure I sat through all of the NFL’s pink Sundays in October and I felt this lump and just pretended I was making things up. You know that fantasy where you’re dying and everyone is so nice to you and you’re the center of attention. I figured it was that. It wasn’t. I almost asked my physical therapist about it in December, but chickened out. By February I was having dreams that I had cancer. I had this thought in the shower that I was a bad wife because if I had cancer, I had to do something about it and not just leave Nathan a widower. My breast really did look weird; I looked up some of the signs of breast cancer and my symptoms were consistent with WebMD.
Now I didn’t have a choice. I had to call. But it was so matter of fact. Annoying almost. Like cleaning up when you spill something on a carpet. Get the paper towels and let the liquid seep in; step all around the area with little steps and soak it in. Get the carpet cleaner on there before it sets. That’s how it felt. Inconvenient. “Yes, I felt a lump and I think I need a mammogram….Yes, I can come in tomorrow to have the doctor examine me.” All the while I’m thinking it’s super weird to have to go to the doctor to get felt up in order to figure out if I have cancer. I went in, he thought it was just probably density or growths from too much caffeine; but he ordered the mammogram anyway.
This is Part 2 of the story. Click Cancer Journey to read all of it.