The C Word: part 1

This past summer I decided to finally go home to see my family. I was nervous about flying, but the excitement of returning to a place that I love helped me overcome my fear. It was about the second week of my holiday when I noticed something unusual with my left breast. There was blood in my bra. Now it wasn't much but enough that it made me continuously check. It didn't seem to get any worse, at one point seemed to stop. Not too concerned about it, I decided I would make a doctors appointment when I flew back home.

After being home for a week, the bleeding started again. This time it was more persistent, so I made an appointment to see my doctor. Not too concerned but thinking that this was a little unusual, I was trying to stay positive until the doctor gave me a reason not to. Now you have to understand my doctor, he is good with sending me to specialists and that's about it. I have a list of health problems that keep him busy to say the least.

 He examined me and was concerned enough to send me for a mammogram. I was very fortunate to get in within two days. Now the waiting begins. Considering that my doctor looked concerned and the technician looked concerned, I grew increasingly concerned. I then did the worst thing possible for anyone who has a medical problem, I surfed the Internet for answers. Well, the first thing I find when typing in "bloody discharge from nipple" was the dreaded C word, Cancer.

After many searches on the Internet and coming to the same conclusion, I need help. The bleeding was increasing, getting darker, and to the point where I had to wear a pad so it wouldn't soak through my bra. By this time three weeks had passed and I finally got my mammogram results. The test was negative! Good results, but why was I still bleeding. I decided to start advocating for myself. No one was doing anything about the bleeding.

I convinced my doctor that I needed to see someone in a larger city, a Women's Breast Health Clinic. I truly believe that this decision saved my life. By the time September came, I was on my way to the clinic, which was four hours away. I was nervous but glad that at least someone was taking mine seriously.

My appointment was for a routine mammogram and ultrasound. I remember sitting in the waiting room in a lovely burgundy hospital gown. I immediately noticed that I was among women who were in their early 50's and up. This was a very sobering moment. The nurses were very discrete and spoke quietly to each patient when their tests were done.
I waited, eager to get this over with, as the multitude of women were escorted to their tests and told they could leave. I remained. Finally, I was called. Ultrasound first, I am used to having ultrasounds, being a mom, you sort of know what looks "good" or not. As I layed there the technician was chatting, then suddenly stopped. I knew she had found something. All I remember thinking was "Oh God she found something!" She excused herself, told me she was going to see the doctor and be right back. I laid there trying not to think of anything, not wanting my mind to wander. So I started counting tiles in the ceiling. It seemed like forever when both the technician and doctor walked into the dimly lit room. Even through the darkness I could see their somber looks. "We found something..."