"Thank you Jesus!"...

That’s all I could say as the double doors parted and I crossed the threshold.

I was calm, I am usually a ball of emotion…guess it’s different when it’s about you…no time to stress, that was not going to change things. I located my phone to call my mother, she does not pick up at work…I tried the home number, same response. I just need to talk to someone, hear someone reassure me that all is well…need someone to stand in agreement with me. I call up my friend, she seems very nonchalant...I don’t want her to be emotional, no need for that, however, I am not sure that this is the response I wanted, expected, or needed at this time as well…

“How often do you do self breast examinations?”
“Not as frequently as I should, maybe every couple of months.”
“Do you ever feel anything?”
“I always feel something; I have fibrocystic breast tissue, hard to tell what’s normal and what’s not.”
“Hmmm”
“Hmmm” I think to myself. Not want you want to hear as someone takes their forefingers and work them around your breast.
“Owe”. That one word sealed the deal. Not only is there a lump, but it’s accompanied by breast tenderness. I was giving a paper with a picture of two breasts, with a star on the right breast indicating where the lump was detected in my breast…then I was told to contact the number on the top of the sheet to schedule a mammogram and ultrasound.

I take the paper and just stare at it for a brief moment. Trying to wrap my mind around what was happening, not too sure what was happening. She said that the size and shape of the lump was nothing to be alarmed about, however, the position and the tenderness was caused for concern. “She’s just crossing all her T’s and dotting all her I’s”, I think as I check out. I’m only 33, there is no way I have breast cancer…sure, my grandmother had a double mastectomy, but she was seventy-something…I am going to be fine.

I finally get my mother on the phone and I let her know what was going on. Her words and her tone let me know that I could not break down…I had to keep it together…tears were not allowed. She said that she prays for me, my sister, and my nieces every morning, and that it was already done…that everything is fine. Maybe my faith is shaky, because I was not too sure...

As I drove into the office, my breasts seem to become heavy…or maybe it was my heart becoming heavy due to the burden that had been placed upon me.

I call the radiological association to make an appointment.
“That’s in an hour?”
“If you don’t come in today at 12:45pm, we will not be able to get you in for two weeks”
Well, my follow-up appointment is within two weeks, so that’s no good. I go ahead and make the appointment, and inform the owner’s wife that I will be leaving the office once again for the day.

“What is your name again? Hmmm, Ms. Crane, it seems that we don’t have you scheduled today?”
I am on the cusp of getting ig’nant, so I take a deep breath before responding.
“I just spoke to someone, and she told me that I could come in today at 12:45, or I would have to wait two weeks to get an appointment?”
“Do you have your order from the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have your insurance card?”
“Yes.”
“Ok, hand me your information and I will work you into the schedule, but I can’t promise that it will be quick.”

I go take a seat in the waiting area, as I look around, all I could think is “That I don’t belong here. Everyone was so much older, and when I say older I mean they appeared to be older than my own mother. Had it not been for the fact that a lump was detected in my left breast at the age of 19, and I actually had a surgical consult, I might not have felt as uneasy as I did in that moment…the longer I waited, the more uneasy I became…I had no idea of what lied ahead…

“Kelly Crane” I hear someone call with a strong Texas twang.

I walk back. No, my name is not Kelly, but no need to sweat the small stuff. I smile as she introduces herself, never correcting her. She shows me to a tiny dressing room, more like a dressing closet and instructs me to disrobe. She also hands me some toilettes to clean my underarm area…apparently wearing deodorant is a big no when you are going in for a mammogram.

“Kelly are you ready?” She asks as she opens the door to the dressing closet.
I actually was not ready because I could not get the cape to snap.
“Well, that’s no good” She says as she picks up another cape. “The snap is broken on this one”
The technician dresses me and leads me to a room…THE room.
“Have you had this done before?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“Well I am going to compress your breasts…”
She kept talking, but I was not listening, I was stuck on the “Compress my breasts” part of the explanation. Apparently my face spoke for me, because I heard, “Oh, it’s alright, don’t make that face.”
“You mentioned something about compressing my breast”
“Yes, but don’t worry, I can’t pancake them, the machine will not allow me to pancake them.”
Did she just compare my girls to flap jacks? This day is steadily getting worse…
“My mother did not tell me any of this”
“Oh well, she just didn’t want to scare ya?”

This is the oddest thing I have ever encountered...even worse than the speculum opening my cervix earlier that morning. You can’t be shy in this field of work, and you damn sure can’t be shy when you’re having someone left your boob, stretch it on a platform, and then pancake it. She had me in some crazy positions…if you moved away the contraption I probably looked like a pinup girl on crack.

"Swing that cape back behind ya...there ya go Super Woman!"

"Superwoman" I thought, as I chuckled. I felt the least bit heroic in the moment.

The hard part was over…now I had to play the waiting game. She sent me back to the dressing closet while the radiologist read my results. She brought me a couple of magazines to occupy my time. “Humph” I say as I notice she handed me a copy of “In Style” with Beyonce on the cover…just because I’m black I think as I laugh out loud. I decide to read the “Us Weekly” instead. Right as I am finishing reading he magazine, she returns to let me know that the radiologists wanted to go ahead with an ultra-sound...

After it’s all said and done, all I can do is give thanks. The ultrasound came back clear, and everything is good to go. I am healthy!

On my way back to the office, I thought about what if? What if the results would have been different? What if I lost one or both of my breasts? Yeah, Steph, I know you said they don’t make me a woman…but I can’t help to feel that I might feel like less of a woman without them.

A routine check-up turned out not to be so routine after all...
All I can say is make sure to keep up with your routine check-ups…
You just never know…