Today is my birthday. My 38th birthday.
And with this day comes a whirlwind of memories and anxiety. Three years ago today, on my actual 35th birthday, I found myself on the receiving end of my first breast biopsy. I had merely mentioned a small knot only 5 days prior and a whirlwind of activity began with sending my never-before-squished boobs for their inaugural squishing. Which escalated into 'enhanced views' and then a 'talk' with the radiologist. The knot I mentioned was not what they were concerned about, but the other side and the need for a biopsy was discussed and scheduled within 48hrs.
All in all, it was a tense and nerve-wracking week of anxiety and 'what-ifs' going through my mind, that came to pass when I got the all clear and explanation.
FYI - women who nurse their kidlets will no doubtedly end up with calcifications within the ducts and they show up on mammograms. If all those little calcifications are clustered near one another, then the radiology people get nervous.
I thought that anxiety was behind me, until about a week ago when my mom had to call and tell me she was having surgery on Feb 26th. My now 38th birthday.
A cyst or lump was found that needed to be removed. Whether it is benign or something more sinister, we do not know as of yet, but the doctors wanted it removed as it was growing faster than they like to see. This normally wouldn't concern me (us) much as my mother has had about seven cysts/lumps removed in her adulthood, all being simple growths and benign in nature.
She called me last week and took that call to remind me to do my followup. You see, the last two years my boobs weren't in a position for squishing between pregnancy, newborn care, and 22 months of nursing. So this year is the first opportunity I have to followup. And this year I will. I called last week to get an appointment to obtain the work order.
That appointment was yesterday afternoon.
I went in for my mammogram work order, but walked out with not only that work order but an 'urgent' referral to a dermatologist for some suspect patches on my back.
'Not completely surprised,' says the pastey freckle faced redheaded Irish-blooded chick I am.
Awoke this morning to face the birthday-surgery-anniversary day and have been in a funk all day.
So I take this post to be the nagging mom in your life.
Go get your pastey-white, olive, black, brown, yellow, or purple skinned butts checked out.
and go get your squish on.