Wednesday finally came round – twelve days after finding the lump.
I got the bus to the hospital. That was how relaxed we had become about the situation. I still strong held the belief that it was a cyst or Pash. Both results would be fine.
I arrived at the hospital with no nerves, and remembered immediately the utter dismal waiting room, all women (some with partners, some with friends) filling every chair at 9.30 in the morning. Then the wait, and wait, and wait. It also wasn’t brilliant that BBC2 were running a show that kept mentioning someone with breast cancer. I don’t even remember who it was now, but I do remember thinking I should maybe tell the Receptionists to change the channel.
But then I got called in. Into a private room by a nurse and asked to remove all upper clothing. Then you sit their by yourself, staring at four walls with the boobs out and chilly! The cheeriest female consultant then rocked into the room, a proper smiler which totally jarred with the situation but I went with it. I confirmed again, that yes, the right boob is always bigger and saggier than the left. She confirmed the lump I found and circled it, then said she’d do a check of the rest of me. No worries, there was nothing else there.
But then she circled a lump where I’d had previous surgery, and then checked the left, where she circled another lump at the top centre. What on earth? What I had been checking and how had I done it that badly?
Then comes the next stage of waiting. Gown on so at least the boobs are covered, the internal waiting room where we all wait for the ultrasound / mammogram, whichever you’re waiting for. I was waiting for an ultrasound and again this wasn’t an unknown. I remembered the last time I had an ultrasound was a happier occasion when I saw my baby on the screen. This time, the screen isn’t turned your way to take joy in the view.
When I finally saw the ultrasound guy (I’d imagine he has a much more professional job title) I was utterly bored. He’d read my file, as he said he had seen me last time when they’d found the Pash. This was the first time I heard the acronym and it made me think that it must be a bit more common now if it had an acronym to label it. So he started scanning on the lump I had found – yes, it was just a cyst and would need drained which was duly done (a little bit painful with a very long needle which I tried to avoid looking at). Then the other lump at the site of the previous surgery was confirmed as scar tissue. Phew.
Then he started checking the left boob, and checking, and checking. Finally he said that it looked like the Pash had, but he would need to do a wide needle biopsy to get some tissue and send off for checking. But he said it looked like Pash, so that was OK in my mind. Then I was a bit more distracted with the biopsy needle. It bloody hurt and I gritted my teeth through it and tried to be a big girl and not blub!
And that was it. I would have an appointment sent in the post for the next Wednesday to return and get the results.
I walked out of the hospital, rang Ryan to tell him the hilarity that I had found a cyst but there was another lump, not to worry as it was likely Pash, and jumped on the bus back to work.
I still had this.